Author's note:
Thank you
to my co-creator and editor, the Brit. This story's been a hell of a ride, and I'm grateful that we got to ride it together! xoxo
In previous chapters:
Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, and ended up at the hospital, where he met Nurse Sandra.
Interested to find out what happens to a Dom after hitting his bottom? Go back to Chapter One and start reading...
In this chapter: what do you think?!
~~~~~~~
Standing outside the Matsakis' front door, unannounced, at 10am on a sunny October Friday morning, I try to steady my nerves as I reach for the bell. The movement causes my mother's ring, nestled in my shirt pocket, to prickle my chest right over my galloping heart. Gripping the pot filled with a bright flower arrangement in my other arm, I'm thankful to have chosen the traditional clay over the more sophisticated porcelain or glassware; if nothing else, its coarse surface is less likely to slip from my sweaty palms.
"Just a minute, I'm coming!"
Mrs. Matsakis sounds hurried as she shuffles to the door. She swings it wide open, not bothering with the peephole, and then freezes in place when she sees me, her welcoming smile waning.
"Dan. I - what are you doing here?" She looks over my shoulder and then adds - "Sandra isn't with you? Is everything alright?"
In the space of a few seconds her tone had gone from surprise to obvious alarm, and I'm quick to dispel her concern.
"Yes, all's good with Sandra, I promise, Mrs. Matsakis. I just wanted to speak with you and your husband and hoped to catch you both at home. My apologies for not calling beforehand... would you be willing to spare me a few minutes, please?"
"Who is it, Maria?"
Mr. Matsakis' gruff voice sounds from upstairs, and his wife looks undecided for a moment before stepping aside and letting me in, gesturing towards her kitchen, and closes the door behind me.
"Excuse me for a moment. I'll be right back."
Not waiting my reply, Mrs. Matsakis turns and walks over to the stairs climbing to the second floor. I watch as she disappears upstairs, and then, realizing I can't just stand there at the doorway, I follow her unspoken direction and enter the kitchen to wait for her.
Looking around I take in the hallmarks of a large, lively clan being raised and fed in this very room. The huge family table, and those stacks of plates and bowls piled high on shelves, enough to feed eighteen people in one sitting. The six-burner stovetop, with its array of pots and pans hanging on the walls on both sides of it. And the extra-large refrigerator, chosen as much for its surface area where family photos and kids' drawings are proudly displayed, as for its storage capacity.
In my mind, I compare it to the smaller, always-pristine kitchen at my parents' home, and the formal dining room where the three of us had taken our meals. Unwilling to wallow in my own sob story, I force my imagination to conjure up Sandra as a little girl in blonde pigtails and missing two front teeth, skipping around this spacious room as her mama cooked, or sitting at the table chatting excitedly with her siblings over dinner.
I know which of the two experiences I'd like to create for our child.
Hopefully.
Breathing deep I make myself stand tall. I have a mission to carry out, and it's not going to be easy. I'd better keep my head for this.
"Dan."
Mr. Matsakis' deep voice pulls me back to the here and now, and I turn around to see the tall, distinguished-looking man enter the kitchen, his limp more pronounced than I remembered, followed closely by his wife.
He doesn't offer his hand for a shake, but rather gestures with his head that I should take a seat, and I know I have my work cut out for me. Before I take a chair, however, I turn to Mrs. Matsakis.
"These are for you, Ma'am."
A brief half-smile passes across her face but quickly disappears.
"Thank you. They're lovely."
Taking the pot from me she places it in the middle of the table, and then wipes her hands on her apron.
"Shall we all sit?"
We each take a spot; Mr. Matsakis at the head of the table, his wife to his right, and myself to his left, facing her.
"Go ahead." Mr. Matsakis doesn't bother with niceties. I take a deep breath.
"I came to ask for your blessing."
They both gasp in surprise, looking at each other and then back at me as if I've just sprouted an extra head.
"You can't be serious." Mr. Matsakis says flatly, and Mrs. Matsakis puts a calming hand on his forearm and catches my gaze.
"Why?"
Her question is so unexpected, I just stare at her. After several long moments have passed in awkward silence she speaks again, her voice somewhat kinder.
"Sandra is thirty years old, Dan. She's an adult, an independent woman. Obviously, this is her decision to make, and I have a feeling that you'll ask her anyways, regardless of our answer." She raises her eyebrows, pinning me with her look, and at my curt, thin-lipped nod, she continues. "Why then even ask? When you know how we feel, given the circumstances, why put yourself - put us - in this situation?"
Maybe it's the tone of her voice, which sounds perplexed rather than accusatory, that allows me to lower my guard and answer truthfully.
"Because I know what it's like, to marry against your family's wishes. It's heartbreaking, and if I can save Sandra from that pain, I will."
"You can save her from it by not marrying her." Mr. Matsakis doesn't budge.
"Not an option." I bite my lips to keep from using the one card I know would likely sway their minds; but doing so would effectively take away Sandra's decision on the matter. I keep my mouth resolutely shut.
Sandra's parents share a silent look, and then Mrs. Matsakis drops her gaze, staring at her own fingers fumbling together. After several awkward seconds, she looks up, and quietly admits -
"I met with Ada."
I barely notice Mr. Matsakis deep scowl over the rush of blood in my ears.
Sandra's mother spoke with Naomi's sister?!
Beyond my shock, there's a strange, unexpected tug in my chest, and I realize I've missed my ex-sister-in-law. Over the years she'd taken their deceased parents' place as the head of Naomi's family, and we'd spent more than one holiday dinner together, have celebrated birthdays and anniversaries with Ada and her husband and kids, have attended family events together... Ada's friendly manner and her no-nonsense approach to life had always put me at ease.
"I - how come?"
Mrs. Matsakis shrugs. "It's a small town. It didn't take long to ask around and find out that your ex-wife had an older sister who's a high-school teacher, too. Although I'd retired a few years back and she teaches with the other school on the west side of town, still it was simple to get her number. I called and asked to meet. She gladly obliged."
It is only now I notice Mr. Matsakis expression. He looks flabbergasted as he stares at his wife, mouth agape. Mrs. Matsakis notices, too, but she only waves her hand dismissively at him.
"Really, Theodore, did you expect anything else from me? You knew I would get to the bottom of this."
I half-expect a strongly-worded rebuke, judging by the old man's dark expression, but then he simply closes his mouth and nods curtly, accepting, it seems, his wife's right to do what she thought was needed to be done, even if he didn't like it.
I clear my throat. "Ehm, how is Ada?"
"She's very well. Seems happy about her sister's upcoming wedding."
Mrs. Matsakis doesn't hide her close scrutiny watching for my reaction, and I can see some of the tension leave her shoulders when I simply nod.
"Yes, I know. I'm happy for Naomi, too." the churn in my gut mellows as that truth resonates inside me, leaving me slightly breathless.
I am happy for her.
"Then how come you beat her up just months ago, when you heard she had a new boyfriend?!"
Mr. Matsakis voice thunders across the table, hitting me full force. His hands are tightly fisted, shaking with his barely-contained rage. His wife places her palm on his forearm again, but he shakes it off impatiently.
"He beat her up, Maria. He assaulted the woman he said he loved. How can you be so calm?!"
"Theo, please. Lucas told us what happened. God knows, in this family, we should know better than to judge a person by their sickness, horrific as their actions may have been."
But Mr. Matsakis seems only aggravated by his wife's gentle words. "How can you even say that? How can you compare Helena's situation with post-partum and all to - to - to
this?!
"
If I'd expected Sandra's mother to cower before her husband's wrath, I'm in for a surprise. The woman seems to grow before my very eyes, her spine straightening and hardening as she sits tall and glares back at her husband.
"Oh, so one type of depression - the kind that leads you to attempt to
murder
your newborn baby -
that
kind deserves your compassion, but another kind doesn't?!"
Mr. Matsakis gasps, but his wife is on a roll. "Well, respectfully, Theo, that's bullshit. I spoke with Ada. She'd known Dan here for over a decade. She told me he was a decent man, a
good
man, who had made her sister very happy - for most of their marriage, at least. She did tell me the last couple of years had been strained, what with their trying and failing for kids, and that they eventually split over that. But she said that he'd been fair to a fault with Naomi throughout the divorce process; that it was clear it was as hard a decision for him as it was for her sister - maybe harder, she said, judging by how miserable he seemed the few times she saw him after."
Red-faced, I fidget uncomfortably in my seat, and cough a couple of times, at a loss for words at this unexpected, heated defense of my character by my ex-sister-in-law - and by the passionate way Mrs. Matsakis had delivered it.
The older couple stop their staring match for a moment to throw me a cursory look, but then they return to each other.
"Are you saying you're willing to risk our daughter's well-being because this man was once a good guy - before he went on to assault his own ex-wife?"
Mr. Matsakis raises his chin as he issues his challenge, but his fury had clearly dissipated, leaving behind the kind of stubborn protectiveness I could relate to only too well.
His wife notices, too, and her tight face relaxes into a gentle smile. I can see her love to her husband - and to Sandra - shine through when she speaks next.
"I'm saying people may do truly horrific things when they're sick, but that doesn't mean they are horrible people; nor does it mean they can never heal."
