Contracted To Love

“Well, we’re in the clear. She doesn’t really need anything to help her sleep except a light buzz. The ’64 Chateau Blanc should do the trick.”

“Of course, Mr. Favre,” Valeria said before she turned around and walked away.

David took a long, deep breath before he began going up the stairs. Sometimes, he would tackle two steps in one go. He was practically running up the stairs as he thought of what possible reason she would have had to lock herself up in the bedroom for so long. He hadn’t known much about Jean or her relationship with him except for the information that was out in the open, but lately David had had an overwhelming need to know all about her past. Why she’d decided to get a divorce in the first place and why the judge had decided to grant custody of her daughter to Jean. As far as he was concerned, they could have at least had shared custody.

His mind was racing as he stood outside her door. He wanted to just burst into the room and make everything all better but he wasn’t sure that they were at that point just yet. He took a long, deep breath and knocked softly on the door. Those few seconds before he answered were the longest he’d had to endure.

“Come in,” he heard her saying softly.

                                                            *****

As far as Michelle could tell, the arranged marriage situation wasn’t half bad. Well, sure the situation wasn’t ideal but hey, she wasn’t the first person to be in that situation. People made it work and she and David were slowly making it work. It was a slow process but a sure one. All she had to do was figure out how she could get her daughter back. That was the one thing that seemed to remain constant. She wanted nothing more… she’d never wanted anything more.

She was feeling exhausted when she got home on Tuesday. It might have been the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping so well lately. Her evenings were spent burrowing into file after file, trying to find out how she could work the system or at least find some precedence that would help her case. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Perhaps that was why legal firms hired paralegals to work long hours on such research. It was a tedious process and after working nonstop for almost two weeks, she still had nothing. Those long nights paired with her full time job weren’t a good combination. She was exhausted. She kicked off her shoes in the mud room and made her way into the kitchen. She’d already planned out that evening. She was going to eat something light and then make her way upstairs to prepare Andrea’s room. Valeria had already done the bulk of the work, but she was the only one who knew just how particular Andrea could be. Like how she loved her ponies to always look like they are having some kind of party with her stuffed animals and how she liked her favorite tea set next to the doll house by the window. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of getting her a real life-size doll house. The way those little brown eyes would light up. In addition, Andrea’s room had just gotten a makeover, giving her the room she wanted in the first place. The black and white was a little mature for Michelle’s taste but then again, Andrea wasn’t exactly a normal kid. She was so much more than an ordinary child, having shown interest in literature that was suited for people twice her age. Pinks and pastels weren’t Andrea but this—bold black and white—this was her daughter. It might have been a little too mature, but the zebra and panda stuffed animals all around the room did the trick. The room might have been a little too mature for your ordinary eleven-year-old but Andrea was no ordinary kid. She was and had always been, like her mother, mature. She looked around and smiled. Everything was perfect.

She’d just finished setting up Andrea’s ponies when her phone rang, piercing the serenity of the quiet house. She’d been thriving in the perfect silence for the longest time. She always found peace in quiet situations. There was something calming about a quiet space. Something she could never really understand. Sometimes she thought that was the reason she listened to smooth piano music over complete bands. Chopin was her go-to music. Or maybe Enya if she wanted some lyrics.

She walked over to the chest of drawers where she’d left her phone when she first walked in and sighed loudly when she saw her ex-husband’s name sprawled on the screen. Part of her wanted to ignore the call altogether but another part of her screamed at her to rise above that feeling. To be the bigger person in the situation.

“Jean,” she said in a soft voice. The softest she could master considering all she wanted to do was scream at him.

“Michelle, hey. Can you talk?”

No. That word was on the tip of her tongue and it took everything within her not to simply come out and say it.

“Sure. What’s going on?”

“Nothing really. It’s about Andrea,” Jean said and Michelle’s heart skipped a beat.

“What happened? Is my baby okay?”

“Yes, she is fine. It is just that…” his voice trailed off. Michelle could tell by his hesitation that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

“Jean. What is it?”

Her heart was now beating so hard she could almost hear it. It was practically part of the surroundings now.

“I have to go out of town again this weekend,” Jean began, and Michelle felt her heart sinking. She knew only too well where this conversation was going. She’s heard it so many times before. The tone… the hesitance… it was exactly what he did before he gave some ridiculous excuse for her not seeing her daughter.

“Wh-what does that have to do with me?” she stammered. “You could just bring her over and leave her with me as you go and do… whatever.”

There was a long silence from his side. For a minute there, she thought that he’d hung up on her.

“Jean!” she didn’t care that she was raising her voice anymore.

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Michelle. I’m not in the mood.”

Michelle forced out a laugh. This guy. Was he even serious? What the hell was he trying to play at?

“You are not in the mood?” The cynicism in her voice was louder than it had ever been. “Oh why didn’t you tell me earlier, Jean? I would have been a little more accommodating if I knew that you weren’t in the mood. I mean, after all… it always has to be about you, doesn’t it?”

“Michelle…” he started but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting a word in. Not just yet. For once, she was the one who was going to talk and he was going to listen. He had to listen. There was no way she could let him have the satisfaction of frustrating her and getting away with it. This was her turn. He’d had too many turns in the past.

“So, what is it this time, Jean, huh? What reason could you possibly have to deny me seeing my daughter during my weekend with her?” she asked angrily.

“I never said that you wouldn’t be seeing her.”

“Really? Because usually when you start a talk with ‘I have to go out of town’, it usually ends the same way. With you telling me that you have to leave and you don’t feel comfortable leaving my daughter… my daughter Jean! You don’t feel comfortable leaving my daughter with me!”

“I already told you, Michelle. I have to work.”

She shook her head angrily.

“You’re always working,” she said. “It’s always something or the other with you. But this time…. I will not take this lying down.”

“Really?” Jean sounded amused. “What are you going to do about it?”

Michelle pulled out the scrunchie that held her hair up and ran her fingers through her thick tresses. He had her exactly where he wanted her and she knew it.