Page 42 of Strelitzias in Spring

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“Fuck, it’s perfect.” I wake with a start at Wolf’s whispered words. “I see you’re up, but stay still for a minute, princess.”

Ignoring his directive, I glance at the clock and see that it’s after five, and I’ve been lying on this table for over two hours. My limbs ache with the need to stretch, and I’m in desperate need of a glass of water. I shift on the bench but halt my movements at Wolf’s growl.

“Serena, how many times do I have to ask you to stop moving?”

Gulping down my apology, I remain silent and fight the urge to continue moving. I pay attention to the flickers of pressure I feel as Wolf finishes mapping out whatever he needs on my back. I count the seconds until, finally, he eases back and caps his marker with a loud click. “Alright, I’m set.”

Clearing my throat, I nod my head into the black leather. “I just need a minute.”

“Take what you need. I’m going to get this cleaned up.” I can feel him getting up from his stool, and the loss of his body heat next to me. “My back is to you; you can get dressed.” Glancing toward the direction of his voice, I verify that he’s facing away before I get up to redress.

Drawing in a long breath, I reach down and grab the waist of my jeans, sliding them back up until they’re sitting on my hips and hiding the embarrassing panties Wolf commented on. Walking to my bag and coat, I grab my shirt as soon as I’m in proximity to my things. It takes no time to slip the fabric over my head and run a hand over my hair, hopefully smoothing it out to the point that it looks artfully messy and not chaotic.

Reaching into my bag, I pull out my cell phone and wince at the number of notifications that fill my screen. Unlocking the phone and reading through the messages and missed calls, my hold on the phone gradually tightens until I’m worried it’ll shatter in my palm. Seemingly endless messages and calls from my father are interwoven with texts from Marina and my friends.

Dad(3:56 PM): I will be calling you in thirty minutes. Be sure to answer your phone.

I check and see there’s a missed call from him at the exact time he said he’d call. Toggling back to my messages, I continue reading.

Dad(4:27 PM): Answer your phone. I’m calling again.

Dad(4:29 PM): This is unacceptable. Your continued tantrums are an embarrassment.

Dad(4:32 PM): Serena, when I tell you that I’m calling, answer your phone. Do we need to go through the exercise of shutting off your line again to get you to comply?

I roll my eyes at his statement. After the last time he threatened to turn my phone off, I transferred to my mother’s phone plan. He must have never realized his phone bill had changed because a line was dropped on his account.

Dad(5:09 PM): Fine, you want to be a child, I will treat you as such. The home I have provided to you for the last decade has been sold. Your mother will need to be out of the house by the end of March. I am disappointed in you, Serena, and the lack of respect you’ve continued to show me. If you cannot respect my wife and daughter, then you do not have a place in our lives. I don’t know what you were doing that has you too busy to pick up the phone for the man who provides you with your livelihood, but I will not stand for it. I am cutting you off.

Swiping out of his text thread, I click on the unread message from Marina.

Marina: Heard you’re homeless now. I’m sure all the guys you’re sleeping with wouldn’t have a problem paying you for your time.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mumble, running a hand through my hair and gripping the short ends until I can pull on it. A myriad of emotions run through me: despair at the sale of the only real home my mother and I ever shared, anger at the callousness of my father and the stupidity of Marina, and disgust over his words and accusations. Not giving a thought to my surroundings, the time, or the company I’m in, I click on my dad’s name and bring the phone to my ear. The ringing on the phone mimics the ringing in my ear.

“Serena, are you okay?” I hear Wolf ask, but his voice sounds like it’s coming to me through a tunnel, and I hold up my hand, silencing him.

The call goes to voicemail, and I snap. “How could you be such an uncaring, cruel asshole? For nineteen years, I have done everything you have ever asked of me: graduated early, started college at sixteen, smiled, and looked like a pretty bauble for your business associates as you showed off your new family. I am done. You have taken the only thing that has ever mattered to me outside of my mother, and you have thrown it away. I am done pretending like I care about you. Even your mother despised you for what you did.

“The fact that you are so ignorant to think that I have taken a single penny from you, outside of the mandated child support you were required to give, is laughable. Turn off my phone? I have a plan with Mom. You have done nothing but break my fucking heart since you cheated on Mom. You want Marina to be your perfect daughter? Fine, you can keep her, keep Brandi, and keep the house that will collapse in on you from your hubris and self-importance. I am done.” I end the call and select Marina’s name, opening the conversation to respond.

Serena: Can you get a life instead of trying to steal mine? Don’t worry about who I’m with, where I live, or what I’m doing. It’s fucking weird.

I hit send and drop my hand, barely resisting the urge to throw my phone across the room and scream.

The sale of the house doesn’t come as a surprise; my mother told me that it was being listed and that she was looking for a new place, one that doesn’t bear the stench of my father’s influence. But seeing his words and listening to his voicemail cemented the truth: he has forced us out of our home. It doesn’t matter that I all but moved out once I started college; it was my home, my mother’s home.

With one final inhale and exhale, I grab the rest of my things and drape them over my arm before turning back to Wolf. Even in my haze of anger, it strikes me that it’s unfair for a person to be as outwardly handsome, artistically gifted, and physically strong as he is; it’s like all of his genes got together in utero and said, “You know Superman? Let’s see if we can one-up him.”

“Is everything okay, Serena?” Wolf repeats, drawing me out of my observation of his form.

“Yes. Great,” I lie. “But I’m going to, uh, go now.” I hold up my things, a visible sign that I’m leaving, and walk toward the pocket door. I reach out to unlatch the lock holding it shut when Wolf’s voice rings out behind me.

“Wait.” His hand shoots out, caging me in from behind. “I can’t let you drive when you’re visibly upset.”

“I’m fine, Wolf,” I sigh, the fight I just had in me draining, replaced by exhaustion and annoyance.

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