Page 26 of Shattered Hope
“I know… but I still have to eat, and so do you.”
“If you don’t mind, yes, I would love to,” he agreed.
“Very well. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” I assured him, not daring to look at him.
After all, I was virtually kicking him out of the kitchen, and the last thing I needed was for him to guess why.
“I’ll help you,” he said, grabbing the coffee machine to prepare fresh coffee.
I wanted to shout my frustration, but instead, I put on a smile and started making the eggs and the bacon he liked.
The kitchen wasn’t big enough for us. No matter where I turned, he was always there, in my way. I even bumped into him a couple of times while taking the food to the table. By the time we finally sat at the table, I was stressed out.
How the hell was I supposed to spend the whole afternoon with him breathing down my neck? But going back on my word wasn’t an option. He already thought I was a liar; there was no need to add more to that.
At noon, I stepped into the living room wearing my best clothes: a pair of blue jeans and a nice knitted green sweater. One of the things I missed from before I got married was being able to buy clothes of my choice. With my tanned complexion, colorful outfits looked perfect on me. I loved wearing them and sometimes even combining them in ways most people wouldn’t.
I guess that was my Hawaiian heritage, but the fact was I loved it. My mother hated it what she called my exotic taste, but I never listened to her regarding my clothes. Her favorite color was pale blue. Daniel, on the other hand, had supported my taste until the day we got married.
After that, he torched all my clothes and forced me to wear either white or black clothes. It became one more way for him to punish me and make my life miserable.
Now, though I couldn’t afford new clothes, I was thorough when I scavenged the church's charity closets and second-hand clothes stores. I had gathered a respectful collection in a few months, but thanks to Daniel’s last visit, I had lost all that.
“Are you ready?” he asked as he entered the living room wearing black pants and a dark gray turtle neck sweater.
He looked ravishing, and my breathing quickened.
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re wearing that?” he asked, with a slight frown.
“It’s all I’ve got. If you think it’s not appropriate, I can stay home. There’s no problem,” I replied, perhaps a little too defensively.
“It is a problem, but nothing that can’t be solved,” he said with a determined expression on his face. “Let’s go.”
I should have known I wouldn’t get out of it that easy. We took the elevator to the garage level and climbed into his car. We drove for a time in what was an uncomfortable silence for me.
“Where are you taking me for lunch?” I finally asked in a fake excited tone.
“To a small restaurant on the shore. They have the best seafood around these parts,” he replied with a smug smile on his face. “But first, we’ll make a small detour,” he announced as he entered what seemed to be a shopping center.
“Last minute shopping?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes, we could say so,” he said, as he parked the car and jumped out of it.
Intrigued, I followed him, and a few minutes later, we were standing in front of a very exclusive boutique.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, with a slight frown.
“I can’t take you to the show wearing those rags. It would affect my image,” he said, as he took me by the arm and practically dragged me inside.
“I can’t afford a pin in this place…” I protested, trying to free myself.
“Good thing I can buy the whole place if I want to,” he replied, in a resolute tone.
“I’m not letting you buy me clothes… that’s not right…” I insisted.
“You already wear clothes I bought you,” he pointed out.
