+1+
On Sunday night Sera interrupts me in my home office while I’m reorganizing the dossier in preparation for Monday. She’d been distant all weekend not quite ready to accept that we’d have to pick up change our lives again. She locked me out of the bedroom not that I got much sleep. Every time I closed my eyes all I could think about was how Day and Hollins family fucked this town over.
I look up from my desk and see Sera is holding a box from the dinner delivery service we were trying. She drops it on my desk and makes a point to look at her watch. I was late making dinner.
“Can’t you just leave this alone?” She asks, “Day and Hollins have power and influence in this county. Look at the families they come from and look where we come from.”
“I can’t, Sera. I’m sorry. Shit like that is exactly why I can’t stay silent.”
She leaves slamming the door on her way out. She was just scared. Out of control. I would give her that control back. I just needed to get through this first.
The gourmet kitchen is out of my league and I end up charred everything in the box but the salad. I didn’t have the patience or time to cut the vegetables or slowly sauté them and ended up burning them in a pan full of hot oil. I just threw the raw meat in the oven so I wouldn’t have to look at it and it looked gray when I pulled it out. I thought about ordering something but remembered I didn’t have any money.
Sera is so into her re-reading her Vampire Academy novel at the table that she doesn’t even notice the way I’ve carefully rolled and cuffed my sleeves when I set her plate down. She’d been camera testing her make-up all day with Sven on Facetime and her face is still made up. Her lips are a glossy red with a little bit of sparkle, the make-up warms up her skin and over accentuates her feminine features. Instead of lounge wear she’d slipped back into the black sundress from our failed date night. Her hair is in a braided chignon that showcases her elegant neck.
“Do you want wine?” I ask trying to be on my best behavior.She closes the book, picks up her plate and throws the entire thing in the trash can without looking at it,“Darling I—“’
“Up”
She snaps her fingers and before I register what I’m doing I’ve hoisted myself onto the eight seater mahogany dinner table. I sit expectantly back straight on the edge as she slowly walks the length of the table.
“I’ve been easy on you, Paris. But I know you’ve been trying to get my attention”, she says letting her heels click on the hardwood floor, “Interrupting the chat, drinking coffee, missing our date. Then you use my credit card without permission and try to serve me garbage.”
Most of That had been weeks ago. I’d mostly forgotten about my Starbucks run and the chat incident. Though I had used her credit card to buy the muffins for Ms. Ginger without thinking. Of course that was technically for work but I didn’t want to correct her because maybe I was manipulating her but we both wanted this.
“You know”, she says stopping to gaze at my profile, “Maybe I should rethink letting you handle your career if you’re going to forget your real job. Do you remember what that is?”
She pushes gently on my chest with both hands until I’m flat on my back. I try not to stare directly into the icicle pendant light chandelier above my head. I don’t hear her heels and am taken a back when the lights slowly begin to dim. Sera slowly approaches the table again with her shoes back on. She unbuttons my black vest followed by my shirt.
“What’s you real job?” she asks again her cold hand runs across my chest and I instantly arch into her touch.
“To serve you.” I say automatically letting my eyes meet hers.
“You want my attention? Now you’ve got it.”
She takes my shirt off and orders me to my knees on the table. I hear the soft clink of metal as Sera cuffs my wrist behind my back. She attaches a short lead to the cuffs then stands on the table and attaches the lead to the chandelier, raising my arms high above me.
She quickly hops down from the table admiring her work. She tugs slightly at my nipple rings just to hear my sharp intake of breathe.
“Paris, somehow I knew the first meal I’d devoured on this table would be you.” her deep voice stirs something in me the way our Dominant/submissive relationship always does. I’ve gotten as far as I have by being disciplined. I’d taken way to many liberties since taking on this job. I needed this. My tightly caged cock also responds to her words and my thoughts. Sera takes note and places the tip of her finger to the barely visible small bulge, “Don’t get any ideas. That is never what I want.”
I smell leather polish and a soft tickle before an array of leather straps belonging to a flogger bites at my bare back. The pain is sharp, immediate and lingers. I grind my teeth together to keep silent. For those few seconds my mind empties of everything except that heat. My skin feels raw and I involuntary flinch away after the next blow and the next one… this wasn’t my usual type of machoism—but I’d burn this way.
“Stop moving”, Sera orders when I flinch away again, “Let’s countdown together from 25.”
I bite my lip as a tear falls onto the table the pain lingers and my skin feels like it’s on fire. I let myself surrender to her will and the local government shit show I have to deal with becomes a faint memory.
“I can’t hear you”, Sera says cruelly, “Countdown. Use those big fancy math degrees.”
I swallow and speak as loud as I can.
“24…23…f-f-fuck…”
“Fuck isn’t a number.” she says, “Start over and don’t forgot to thank me after each one.”
“25…T-thank you.”
I can’t see her. But I know. She’s delighted.
After zero she rubs a little cooling gel on my back. Her movements are quick and dutiful--she’s bored now. Sera stands on the table again to release me and I’m suddenly very concerned about how much weight this table can hold. She unhooks the lead from the chandelier and uncuffs my wrist.
I put my shirt and vest back on, smoothing out any wrinkles while she watches. Sera nudges me to my back again with her foot then moves to lay on top of me. The key to the cage swings from the delicate chain around her neck teasing my lips. She kisses me gingerly, enough that it doesn’t ruin her lipstick. The table creaks a little and I brace myself. Sera positions my hand between her legs where she’s slightly aroused. “Who should take care of this?” she asks slightly adjusting her weight.
“M—“
“You?” she says and I swear I hear the table shift, “How? You’re all locked up? Get my phone.”
I slide out from under her and find her red iPhone in a basket by the front door. I bring it back to the dining room where she is luckily no longer on the table, but appears to be somewhat second guessing the scuffs her heels had left.
I scroll through the contacts which is really just a list of all her sexual partners. There are a lot of new names I don’t recognize. I’m also pretty sure some of them are fake. I scroll right past Sven’s name and stop at Gwendolyn. A name like that sounds harmless.
I open the contact and hand the phone back to her.
“Don’t forget to eat something.” she says picking up her keys and shades even though it’s 7pm, “Don’t stay up to late.
“Yes, Mistress.”
She hesitates before putting her shades on gives me one of her rare smiles. For a moment I know I can do at least one thing right.
I stand by the window and makes sure she makes it out the cul de sac okay before relaxing. I hate that I know Sera so well that she can’t even lie to me. Between movers, Target runs, CraveLive and my bullshit I knew Sera was tired of people. She was probably going to sit in a Chick-fil-la parking lot and read on her phone.
I take the remaining salad back up to my office, easily maneuvering around the moving boxes. Selling this house was going to be a nightmare but it was best we moved on before the scandal blew up. I’d always thought it would be fun to go to Portland or Kansas City.
Maybe even to Sacramento where we got engaged.
Or Vegas where we got married.
We would settle down. Find the home we’d been searching for since we were children.
-2-
Sera and I are both orphans thanks to a rather unspeakable and mostly forgotten tragedy. I have no memories of our home but after the tragedy we surviving children were resettled in the rural plains of Upstate New York.
At first they separated us. I was sent by myself to a strict foster home in Plathsbug, NY. I was 5 years-old and still trying to make sense of my muddled memories. In the foster home two teenaged boys teased me for how often I cried and wet the bed. I think that they were jealous because they were too old to curl up and openly cry like I did. The older kids made me do their chores and sometimes put things in my meals that made me afraid to eat. I couldn’t sleep through the night without crying and the other boys screamed at me to shut up which upset me more.
One morning…I remember waking up and feeling very lethargic.
My face felt funny and burned a little. I rubbed it and my hands came away coated in blood. I jumped down from my bed and ran around the foster home screaming---which made the wounds worse. I caught sight of my extremely gory Glasgow smile in a mirror and panicked. I had to get out. So I ran. I ran past the minder and out the door towards the street. I just wanted to get away from the horrid house and those psychotic teens. I ran into the street just as a shiny black car swerved before pulling up in front of me.
Hmjeu stepped out of the car. Dressed in all black save his priest collar. He said my name. He knew me and picked me up. I remember his calming smile as he held me in his arms—a hideous dirty crying child with a mouthful of blood and a split open face.
“You have to be strong Paris. You have to be strong.”
I remember him tending to my wounds. Then he admonished the foster home staff. He took me away from that place and brought me to his Boy’s Home where my toddling blood brother and new brothers were. Hmjeu had been a priest in our community. After the tragedy he left the church, lost his faith in God and built the Boys’ Home to raise us survivors together.
Survivors of what I still can’t recall ….
I hadn’t fully understood until much later that a group of nuns from his church had down the same for the surviving girls. Though the nuns never lost their strict faith.
Hmjeu called all his rescued boy’s ‘my son’ but when he said it to me it was different. Our relationship was different. Hmjeu s took more time with me. I failed to thrive and was much smaller than the boys my age and was often too ill to be outside. Whenever I was left out of playing Hmeju would let me sit in his office and look through his collection of presidential biographies.
Those books were my escape. As a kid I’d flip through the pages and look at the pictures in awe of these powerful men. As I got older I loved reading about their origin stories and adventures in the White House. It amazed me that if I worked hard enough I could become a leader like this.
The older I got the more Hmeju’s office became a sanctuary for me. He gave me lessons in leadership, history and integrity. He told me stories from his Harvard days. Hey encouraged me when I decided to never take off my mourning black and when I turned eleven I became his apprentice.
Hmjeu began to teach me how to run the foster home and how I could continue serving future boys who would live here. I moved out of the shared rooms on the second flood and into a private room upstairs next to Hmeju. He’d even fashioned me a little office like his to work and study from. I never questioned why the others weren’t jealous or didn’t make a big deal about me becoming his apprentice. I’d expected teasing and jousting but they were understanding. Proud of me.
In junior high we began attending public school with girls and the girls (What we called the ones from the other foster home). I’d never spent more than two minutes with a girl and the concept of girls was somewhat baffling to me, but welcoming to many of my brothers. While they were busy with middle school sports, clubs and after school activities I was with Hmjeu being trained in finance, property management and social services. I learned how to dispel arguments between boys and encourage teamwork. I developed standards and practices to make sure just enough money flowed into our little home.
Hmjeu also helped me plan out my future. I’d begun daydreaming about attending Hmeju’s Alma Mater Harvard and later Harvard Law. I grew up listening to his stories about his years at Harvard and all the grand traditions. He promised when I turned seventeen he’d take us all on a field trip to Cambridge and we could tour the campus.
I’d spy whenever one of his former classmates came to visit. I was completely mesmerized by their stories. I loved how thirty years later they were still so closely bonded. For my thirteenth birthday Hmjeu bought me a vintage crimson Harvard t-shirt and I cried because gifts were rarity…though I was never able to wear the shirt because it wasn’t black.
At fourteen I sent away for a perspective student packet just so I could have something to hold on to. I kept it under my pillow and flipped through it whenever I wanted to be comforted.
I had ambitions and Hmjeu knew that. I also had the highest GPA in my class, I was an Honor student and took AP classes in 8th grade. Sure, I found more comradery with my teachers and counselor than I did my peers but it was all in service to the future I wanted.
Which I suppose is why Hmjeu didn’t tell me about the cancer eating away at his brain. That was why he made me his apprentice. He’d made the choice not to operate or treat. He spent his last years on his terms; training me to takeover. My brothers had known for years.
They all thought it best to keep it from me.
I never left Hmjeu’s deathbed the last few weeks of his life in the house. I’d sit in his rooms trying to find comfort in those old presidential biographies. It was then I realized why they’d appealed to me. It wasn’t just the dignity, grace and respect of the office. It was about people who profoundly changed lives…like Hmjeu had done for me.
“You are so bright, Paris”, Hmjeu said to me on his death bed.
“All thanks to you.”
“You have a choice, Paris”, he said, “You don’t…have to …stay... I trained you well to be headmaster but…you…don’t have to stay.”
“It’s alright, Father’, I whispered and his eyes widen, “You should rest.”
“You poor boy, I’m not your Father.”
“You’re the closest I’ve ever known”, I said. We were reaching the end and I could hear the others outside his bedroom door. They had already said their good-byes but couldn’t bring themselves to leave the door.
“That’s is a sad fact then.” He said, “I’ve taught you everything I know to make this place prosper and grow. To make men out of boys who’ve lost everything…but that doesn’t have to be your path. You can do great things outside of this place Paris. I know it. You are a good man.”
“I love you”, I said catching tears in my mouth
“I did my duty is all. Just remember you have a choice. “
“C-can you call me son?” I asked with all the selfishness of a teenager “Just one time.”
He bought his the hand to curve of my cheek. I felt the weight of his Harvard class ring I’d so admired.
“You’re a good kid, Paris.”
I waited until his breathing abated before opening the door to my foster brothers. I remembered the gathered feel of them around me as we hugged, it was one of the last times we’d all be close like that.
My brothers’ supported me as I took over the foster home. With Hmjeu’s lawyer’s help I eased into the odd role of being a fourteen-year old headmaster while still trying to be a typical high school freshman. Fortunately the state wasn’t inclined to check on the weird orphans so it was a smooth four years.
Just before high school graduation Hmjeu’s lawyer summoned I for the reading of Hmjeu’s second will nearly four years after his death. We met in my office at the house. Not ready to face whatever was in the will alone I bought Ashe and Lysander, two of the eldest boys who I was closest with, and my blood brother Jona. I trusted the three of them to advise me when things got tough. They also kept me grounded. Reminded me to be a teenager from time-to-time. They were the closest to friends I’d had in the Boy’s Home, but I still felt responsible for them.
“There is a second will?” I said repeating what I’d been told by the lawyer while. I considered this and took a seat behind my desk in the headmaster’s office.
“Yes, sir”, the lawyer said, “Mr. Prince, Hmjeu has endowed 50,000 to you.”
“What?” Jona said brightening up, “Hmjeu had that kind of money? Paris, we can use it to fix this old place up.”
I nodded. The old Victorian manse we lived in had seen better days. We’d started taking in more orphans and got by the best we could with state funding and grants. We sorely needed to bring the home into the 21st century, we didn’t even have an internet connection.
“Actually, Mr. Prince---Paris”, the lawyer clarified, “The money is endowed to you. Per the will you can only use the money for the Boy’s Home if you remain as headmaster. However if you decide to pursue higher education the money must be used for that.”
“That can’t be right”, Jona said, “What about the rest of us? The old man only left money to Paris?”
The lawyer nods.
“I just---“, I began, “I mean…I’ve already been accepted into Harvard.”
“Yeah but”, Ashe said tapping his cane, “You weren’t actually going to go, right? We need the money. You can’t leave.”
“It’s…my dream”, I said, “I know you all can handle things while I’m at university.”
“Paris what is the point of going to Harvard just to wind up back here”, Ashe interjected, “You don’t need a fancy degree to prove your worth.”
I focused on a spot on my desk, “Maybe I want more than being here. I’ve never left this town. I want to see what’s out there. I want to work in politics and make changes. You know this.”
“Paris”, Lysander the usually quiet one said, “We need that money to survive. Harvard is expensive 50,000 won’t get you far. But it could change lives here.”
“You have a choice.” The lawyer said, “Call me when you’ve made it.”
I slept fitfully that night, running numbers and scenarios. I read through my Harvard acceptance letter and flipped through the prospective student book I’d had since I was 14. When I woke up the next morning I went into my office and called the lawyer.
“I’ll take the money. I’m going to Harvard.”
---
That summer was tense
The choice I made would never sit well with my brothers. The usually boisterous house grew stilted and quiet. Even the younger boys were less warm to me. I kept to my office and secretly started counting down the days until I left for Harvard.
“Paris Prince?” A voice I didn’t recognize called outside of my office door. I didn’t think I had appointments that day.
Curious I opened the door and a piece of paper was shoved into my face by a man I’d never seen before.
“What’s this?”
“You’ve been served.”
I read through the subpoena the best I could. It looked like Jona, Lysander and Ashe had hired a lawyer to refute the second will and sue me for the $50,000 claiming I’d influenced Hmjeu during his last days. I stormed out of my office and to the dorms on the second floor where the three of them shared a suite of rooms.
“What is this” I said the quiet anger in my voice scaring even me. None of the traders even looked me in the eye.
“The lawyer said we shouldn’t talk about this outside of court”, Jona said acting as the spokesperson.
“We live together. How are we not going to talk about it? I can’t believe you did this. I can’t afford to go to court.”
“Neither could we”, Jona said, “but we pooled our money together because we have actual jobs.”
Jobs I’d graciously allowed them to have. Hmjeu wouldn’t have approved of shifts at the Subway and cleaning the school at night. He felt one man should never truly work for another. I pulled a modest salary of 4,000 dollars a year for my work. Same as Hmjeu.
“Fuck you” I said slamming the door shut.
I took out a personal loan and hired a discount second-rate lawyer to walk me through the process. On our first day in court there was a shouting match between me and my brothers. We were a bunch of emotional teenagers in way over our heads. The court fees were so expensive that my brothers dropped the case after that first day.
The damage had already been done though
Since I had taken the money Hmjeu to pay for Harvard I had technically forfeited my role as headmaster. Lysander changed the locks on my office door and they stopped my pittance of a salary. In July I came home to an eviction notice on my bedroom door. Because I was eighteen and no longer a ward of the state they were legally free to evict me from the home.
I packed all my meager belonging in an old vintage carry-on suitcase I’d found in Hmjeu’s closet. I also found his leather messenger bag from his college days and took that as well. I put my stuff in Hmjeu’s old Cadillac and went to look for somewhere to stay.
I was barley a mile down the road when a cop pulled me over.
“Get out the car, sir”, the cop said, “We’ve got a report this car has been stolen.”
The cop escorted me and the Cadillac back to the boy’s home. Ashe and Jona were sitting out front waiting for me. They waited until the cop left to approach me.
“You got the money, Paris. You can’t also take the car”, Ashe said
“You could have called me”, I yelled throwing the car keys at his feet. “You can’t even drive. You didn’t have to call the fucking cops.”
Ashe was amused. I rarely yelled.
“Why?” Ashe said, “Cause you’re too good to get arrested. Fuck you. You really think you are so much better than us.”
“I don’t”, I said, “I just…want this. Harvard is my dream.”
“It’s not about just you Paris.” Ashe said, “Hmjeu made sacrifices for us and he would want you do the same. He is testing you. He wants you to make the same sacrifice. It’s not too late to stay.”
“I already gave up my childhood for this place. That was my sacrifice. I think Hmjeu wanted me follow my dream and the money was his way of making sure I don’t get stuck here.”
“Paris”, Ashe said, “We could lose this place without that money. Don’t go.”
“I know you three have got this. I’ll help you write grants or get donations--”
“Paris”, Ashe reached out for my arm and held it tightly. When I didn’t move he pushed me away. “Just get out of here, Paris.”
“I’m sorry.”
I pulled my suitcase and messenger bag out of the Cadillac and started walking. I walked two miles to a Motel 6 around the corner from the gas station next to the highway off ramp. I used the rest of the personal loan money I took out for the lawyer to pay for a room through the summer.
There were more altercations that summer. Like when I found out they gave me fake ashes and not Hmeju’s real ones when I requested them. Hmjeu had told me he wanted some of his ashes sprinkled on the Harvard Yard. Instead they mixed some of his ashes with dirt to give to me because they’d apparently never heard that. I was so angry I broke into the foster home to get the rest of the ashes.
Jona was there with Ashe and we started fighting because they’d conveniently taken the rest of his ashes to the ocean. In the middle of a heated argument I threw one of Hmjeu’s presidential biographies and it hit Ashe in the face and broke his nose. While Jona took him to the clinic I grabbed anything of Hmjeu’s I could find and left.
The police were called (again) and Ashe pressed charges against me for robbery and assault. Jona lied to the police to support his boyfriend and over embellished my actions. Luckily Lysander was a witness and when questioned by the police told them it had been an accident. The department ended up fining Ashe for falsifying a report. He had the nerve to ask me for money to pay it. The sheriff agreed to drop the burglary charges against me if I returned everything and wrote an apology letter. I hated having to give the biographies back but…maybe they were holding me down.
I was slapped with a restraining order and forbidden from going back to the home. I was effectively ex-communicated. Every phone call and letter I sent to try and patch things up went unanswered. My own brother refused to talk to me.
My gap summer was spent on the floor of a cheap motel room writing a memoir of my time at the Boy’s School by hand. I only left the motel to walk down to the grimy QuikStation on the corner—where I stocked up on free ice water and 50 cent saltines I bought with change I’d found in one of the old suitcases.
At the end of the day if there were leftover newspapers the owner would slip me one before throwing them out. I’d loiter in the shade of the gas station awning reading since there was no TV or A/C at the motel. Very occasionally at the QuikStation I’d see the pearlescent white van from the Girl’s Home at one of the pumps. Usually the nuns would drive but occasional Aria, one of the older girls, would be alone and she’d waive at me.
Which was why I wasn’t that surprised when there was a knock at my motel door in late July. I opened it to find Aria on the other side of the door. She had on a conservative white dress with a jean jacket and sneakers. The van was parked outside and she had the keys on her finger. Aria placed a warm Tupperware container in my hands.
“Having a rough go of it?” She asked, “I’ve seen you at the gas station. I asked the manager if you were okay”
“I’m okay”, I said not able to muster the charm that had gotten me through high school, “How are you?”
“I’m okay”, she said, “I think it’s great you are leaving. Not a lot of us leave. You’re like a real adult.”
Small town. Word got around.
“It’s not easy”, I told her.
I open the warm container
“It’s chicken soup”, she said and her smile falters when I grimace, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m a vegetarian”, I said embarrassed I was even complaining seeing as I was down to a handful of change.
“I can take the chicken out—“
“I’d still be able to taste it”, I said my nerves causing my body to go stiff, “the blood.”
“Oh”, she said flustered, “…I mean it’s fully cooked.”
“I’ve had a mouthful of blood.” I gesture to my scars, “Now I can always taste it in meat. Sorry. I’m so sorry. That was morbid. I’m sorry.”
I pushed the container back in her hands and closed the door. I scolded myself all night for being ungrateful, but of course the next day she came back and left a container of tomato soup by the door. It was the only hot meal I’d had that summer.
-3-
At the end of the summer Hmjeu’s lawyer called me to confirm the money had been wired to Harvard. I checked out the motel with Hmeju’s old carry-on suitcase and his leather messenger bag. I said good-bye to the owner of the gas station (also brought my first cellular phone and $50 of pre-pay minutes) and promised I’d pay him back for the newspapers one day.
I walked to the bus station just outside of town. Each step getting me farther from the only life I’d known but closer to the future Hmjeu had provided for me. I clung to the bus ticket like it was my life line.
It was a rare hot Upstate New York day which slowed me down. I made it to the bus station just in time to see the Greyhound heading towards Boston pull off from the station. I cursed and ran for the bus shouting and waiving my arms. I tripped over my suitcase and hit the ground face first.
Up ahead some cars had started honking at the bus driver who’d pulled over in confusion almost cutting off a speeding motorcycle. I picked myself up and ran to catch up. I climbed onto the bus completely winded and covered in dirt.
“Shit kid your face”, the driver said as I wrangled my bag into the aisle
“It's an old scar”, I said. Then I pulled out my favorite one-liner, “You should see the other guy.”
I took the empty seat behind the driver hoping he wouldn’t mind the company.
“You must be in a rush” He said pulling onto the interstate
“Yeah. Something like that.”
A/N
Paris is a reliable narrator in this story but I will say Paris does not have a clear memory of the tragedy that made him an orphan and there are things he is blocking out. This is the start of the Yellow Umbrella Chapters. Which is my HIMYM style chapters that go back and tell us how Paris and Sera reunite. This is going to help understand what they do next and how they handle the embezzlement. This is sort of the way the story came to me ???? You see Paris and Seraphina as one way but then you peel it back and realize they aren’t exactly who they seem to be.
I wrote Hmjeu as a random throwaway character and this was the first time I really considered how important his relationship was to Paris.