Six Years Later
Every time I get called into the school, the French headmistress calls me a filthy American bitch and I laugh at her because even if that is true, I pay her enough for her to overlook what my son has done yet again. God, I miss when that meant something.
Aizen is a biter.
I could ask where the kid got it from but the day after his conception tells me he got it from his father. The mother of the little boy my son tried to take a chunk out of, is livid. With good reason, but while Aizen’s attack preference is biting, I have to ask what the kid did to get him there. Because he doesn’t do it without reason. Ayrie loves se
him and while she can get carried away, her brother has the patience of a saint, bless his soul. So, I doubt he did it without provocation.
The French mother is shouting all kinds of French vulgarities at me. Usually, people think I don’t understand them, but I’ve been here for eight years of my life and I took. French before moving here. I’m not here on a whim but to each their own. And of course, the first thing I learned to do was how to call someone a fucking asshole in French. It’s, putain de trou du cul. It actually sounds really cool.
The headmistress glances over at me every so often to make sure I’m not taking offense to the shit coming out of this woman’s mouth. I am so glad to be going home after all this time. When I first arrived, I was so excited. Because hello, Paris. Except the people here are mean and they smoke. Like a lot. I might miss the late morning work start, but the rest of it can go to shit for all I care. I’ve been to New York and that has nothing on this place. New York is just a bunch of aggressive sweeties. I’m glancing at you, Queens.
“What did he do to him?” I finally cut in.
“He bit my son,” she shouts in her dumb French accent.
“If you don’t back up, French fry. I’ll be biting you next,” I sneer. She places her hand over her chest as if offended. As if she didn’t just curse my son up, down, and
sideways.
“There was a small altercation between Milos and Aizen over a lunch bag,” the headmistress places my son’s Bluey lunch bag on the desk.
“That’s my son’s. I packed it for him this morning. He doesn’t like the food here,” I open it to show her where I stitched his name tag.
“We serve only the best here she scoffs. That’s not the fucking point, lady.
“Try telling that to my five–year–old,” I roll my eyes because that’s not the fucking point, lady.
“American scum,” the woman makes a spitting sound in my direction.
“Lady, you are lucky that our sons are here because I would love nothing more than to slam your stupid face into that desk,” I say lowly so only she can hear me. “Your son put his filthy hands on my son’s belongings. It better not happen again,” I snatch the bag off the desk. “Do you understand?” I repeat it to her in French and her entire demeanor falls apart. “You seem to have gotten that one,”
“You’re going to let her speak to me like that? I pay good money for my son to come here-”
“So do I. I have two kids here,” I scoff. “And I’m on the committee,”
“You have two children?” she glares at me.
“Are we done?” I ask the headmistress.
“I am sorry, Miss Altaha,” she apologizes. “Is there anything I can do for you while you‘ re here?”
Her tone makes me wish I wasn’t a strong, independent, and educated woman back on my reservation in California. There’s only a week left. I don’t need this shit and neither do the twins.
“You can bring my daughter out and I’d like their transcripts, please,” I nod. She tenses up and looks between me and the woman next to me.
“Miss Altaha, I will see to it that your son’s belongings will no longer-”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m taking my American ass back to my homeland. I don’t want your people’s ugly manners rubbing off on my kids. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Your keep making these hollow promises, but here we are again. This little boy has been giving Aizen problems for months now and all you do is let his ill–mannered mother talk to us like we don’t understand what she’s saying.
“French is their first language, Bitch,” I turn my attention to the woman. “And you have taught my very well–behaved son a few words I’ve had to punish him for. So, no there is no way in hell my kids are staying here for another year. So, thank you for your service. Let’s hope none of you are ever treated like shit when you come to the States. But by the looks of both of you. I doubt you’ll ever be able to afford it. I’ll wait for my daughter and the paperwork outside,”
Aizen jumps off the chair in his little uniform and walks out the door as I hold it open for him. I sit him in the only chair available and notice his undone shoelaces. I start to tie them and look up at him to see he’s looking back at me with a smirk.
“Sorry, momma,” he whispers. I sigh and pull his sock up properly.
“What did he do to you?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head.
“It matters to me, son. I can’t make you feel better if you don’t talk to me,” I brush his dark hair out of his face. He looks down at his sleeve and lifts it. There are three scratches from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. “Did you show your teacher?”
“They don’t care, momma,” he shrugs. “I beat him up very well,”
The two of us laugh. I glance over at the kid when his mom walks out of the office. He did beat the kid up. He has a bruise on his cheek and the mark where Aizen bit him on the hand. He’s right. From the start, they made it pretty clear where we stood. Not only am I American, but not the pretty blonde–haired hair blue–eyed kind.
My mom was, but not my father, and while I’m not as red as he is, I look a lot like him and so do my kids. The dark hair and the tanned skin. It’s a stigma we’ll never be able to outrun. Here or back home. But it builds character and my kids have grown used to
- it.
For the most part, they let their work do all the talking. They’re both insanely smart and talented. They know that. I was going to let it go, but these marks might leave a scar. This scandal might just be the final fuck you this country needs.
“Mommy,” Ayrie runs towards us. Her little body smacks against mine. “We’re going
home?
“Yes,” I nod. “Let’s get out of here,”
3/3
I have no problems with spending our last week in Paris together all day long. When we get home, I clean up Aizen’s scratches and put some bandaids on them. It doesn’t take much to get them in a better mood. All Thad to say was that they weren’t ever going back there again.
As I box everything up to send to our new home, I have to admit that I am going to miss this place. This is where they were born. Where I struggled for the first few months as a first–time mom until I met Kendra. Their nanny has been a dream since hiring her. She agreed to move here with me and is more than thrilled to be on the same continent as her family again.
Both Aizen and Ayrie took their first steps here. They both called me Mama for the first time here and I am getting very sentimental now. I go to the bathroom so the kids don‘ t see me cry. Kendra sees me though.
This will be good for you and them,” she reminds me. “Us too,”
“I know. It’s just, this was our home for so long,”
“I am very excited for California,” she laughs.
“I am very excited for the kids to see it too,” I feel much better.
1 take the kids to a couple of museums and the Eiffel Tower one last time so we can say goodbye and have lots of pictures. During our flight, I can’t help but feel nervous. for some reason. Aizen sleeps through most of it but like me, Ayrie doesn’t shut her
eves once
“Mommy, are we going to see Grandpa again this time?”
“Uh, I clear my throat remembering how telling my dad I was a mother of two without telling him the name of their father went. ‘Not this time. We’re moving there. It’s going to be our new home,”
“Is it going to be a regular house this time?” she asks excitedly.
“It’ll be an apartment first. I want to find the perfect house. Would you like to help with that?”
“Will it be by the beach?” she asks excitedly. I may have mentioned we’d be by the beach.
“Would you like it to be?”
“Yes,” she nods eagerly. “We never been to the beach,”
“We can go this weekend while we settle in. It’s not too far from our apartment,”
“Oui, s’il vous plaît,” she giggles and crawls onto my lap. “Do we still have to talk French?”
“Not if you don’t want to. In California mostly everyone speaks English,”
“What do the others speaks?”
“It depends, but where we’re going I’d have to say Spanish,”
“We don’t know Spanish,” she curls into me
“No, well. You don’t, I laugh.
“You do?” she gasps.
“I do,” I nod. “And so does Kenny,”
“Awesome sauce. I want Kenny to teach me Spanish,”
“You don’t want me to teach you?”
“I want you to find the perfect beach house, Mommy. Better than Barbie’s,” she laughs.
“Better than Barbie’s, huh?” I tickle her. She giggles and then wraps her arms around
- me.
“Are you sad, Mommy?” she asks.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because Mrs. Reedly said you must be a sad fuck with two kids and no husband,”
Kendra was in the midst of drinking water. She almost spits it out and starts coughing. I have to fight laughing harder than I ever have in my entire life. I hear a couple of Haughs from the other private areas in the first–class lounge. Her little French accent only serves in her favor.
Mrs. Reedly is probably explaining to her husband that they’re being sued by some crazy American woman at the moment along with the school who transferred their son to a different private academy.
“No, Ayrie. I am not sad. You are not allowed to repeat that ever again in your life,” I finally laugh.
“I promise,” she giggles. “Can I go lay down with Bubbie?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you,” I sigh and stand.
I take her over to him and tuck her in next to him. It’s crazy how alike they look like this. I cover them and signal Kendra to watch them. She’s still bright red. She gives me a thumbs up. It was never a secret. I never told anyone I was married and with how public my profile is, the moms all had their laugh at my expense. So did some of my co
-workers.
My boss has been trying to set me up left and right, but I honestly didn’t have the time between runways and the kids. Sure, Kendra took a lot of the weight off, but there was no way I was going to end up with a French man. My father would hunt both of us down
I wash my hands and open the door to get back to my seat. The door across from me opens at the same time and a man steps out before I can.
“Excuse me,” he says politely.
My heart stops and my ears immediately start to ring. I close my eyes and shake my head. No. There is no fucking way that’s him. I step out just enough to watch him go over to the back area furthest away from the twins and then he turns around. It is him. I all but run to my sent
“You okay?” Kendra asks when I fall into my seat and grab one of the blankets to cover myself with it as if it would make me disappear.
“This is not happening. I whisper to myself.
“Oh, do you need a tampon?” she whispers.
“What?” I ask her caught off guard.
“What?” she asks defensively. “Why are you all squirrelly, Phoebs?
“No reason,” I clear my throat. I reach for a water bottle.
“Phoebe, you’re shaking,” she places her hand over mine. “Did something happen?”
“No,” I shake my head. I take a couple of deep breaths. “I just feel a little light–headed,
“Here, lie back. You’re pale,”
There is no way he’ll recognize me. He’s on the other side of the plane. It was a long time ago. I don’t even have long hair anymore and I’m dressed differently. Right? Right. Oh, my god. What are the odds of this happening? Then again, what are the odds of what happened before happening? The fucking odds are always aligned. Shit.
“I got you some sparkling water,” Kendra returns with a little green bottle.
“Thank you,” I take it.
“New home jitters?” she asks playfully
“No, just the ghosts of the past,” I mumble.
“I hear that,” she sits across from me. I forget she has crazy good hearing.
The twins are up and ready to get off the plane when we land.
There’s no way we’re going to see him again. At least, that is what I’m telling myself as we get off the plane and head down to get our luggage. As luck has it, I don’t see him again. I get my things and set them down as Kendra tells the kids that California is the coolest place in the world and that it’s also her first time here.
“Mommy, Chocolate Sprinkles!” Ayrie calls out and runs off. I look up to see her bear
stuck on the belt.
“Watch this,” I call out Kendra
“Got it,” she laughs. The bear’s overalls are stuck on the edge of the belt and I can’t get
it out.
“Excuse me,” I call out as I struggle. I’m almost to the end of the belt when a hand
reaches out and unhooks it. I stumble back making sure nothing happened to my baby‘ s favorite bear. “Thank you, so much. This my baby’s I stop when I see him standing there. “Favorite bear,”
“You’re welcome,” he smiles. I press my lips together and nod stupidly. “Do I know you?” he asks stopping me “You seem familiar
‘Shit. I clear my throat.
“It’s you, he adds quietly. “My good girl,”
“Fuck I laugh and spin around to face him. “I was hoping you didn’t recognize me,”
“I take offense to that, Angel, he smirks
“Mommy You found him,” Ayrie points up at me.
“Huh?” my mind glitches for a second and then I realize what she’s talking about when she snatches the bear out of my hands.
“I’m sorry, Chocolate Sprinkles, she says dusting his overalls and then hugs him tightly
“Momma, my strap came apart,” Aizen comes over to me holding out his carry–on.
“I told you to stop tugging on it,” I remind him. He laughs and holds it up so I can fix it.
“You have two,” Knighty looks between them. He looks stunned.
“Yeah, these are my kids. Aizen and Ayrie,” I say mindlessly. Why did I say that to him? “You’re the guy from the TV,” Ayrie shouts excitedly. I cover her mouth and pull her to
me
“Oh, my god! It’s Knightly Blake,” someone screams.
Just like her Mom, huh?” he steps back and pulls his hoodie over his head. “I’ll see you around, Phoebe,”
“Kenny,” I call out picking up Ayrie
She lifts up Aizen and we grab our things trying to dodge the people running past us. God, that was a good save, baby girl. People swarm past us as we try to get the hell out of there. We make it to the exit to find our driver holding up a sign with my last name on it. We hurry over to him. He leads us out to his van. Two car seats are waiting inside for us. I don’t hesitate to hide the twins.
“You know Knightly Blake? Kendra asks when we’re finally moving. “How?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I shake my head and try to catch my breath.
“That’s nuts,” she laughs. “I fucking hate that guy,”
“You’re not supposed to say that word,” Aizen scolds her.
“Right,” she nods. “I hate him,”
