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Chapter 2: Meeting David

Chapter 2: Meeting David

For the past twelve years, I grew up without a father. Truth be told, that's what I thought was normal. So, you can imagine my surprise when I figured out that my mom was in love. She was radiating, and her happiness was somewhat contagious. I wanted what's best for her, and if David, her new boyfriend, makes her happy, then I'm content, too.

I sat on the bench at the school's yard during the lunch break. It was a rather hot and sunny day, despite being the last days of November. I was supposed to meet with Izzie, but I guess something stalled her. My best friend was a sweet girl with short blonde hair and baby blue eyes. Her heart-shaped face brightened every time she smiled. She had a petite and slim figure, and that made her look defenseless, especially in middle school. Izzie was the best student in her class; she liked reading books and watching black and white movies.

"Are you daydreaming again?" Izzie asked with a soft voice and sat next to me.

"I will meet my mother's boyfriend on Saturday, and I was wondering whether I get the chance to demonstrate my Karate skills," I said with a smirk.

Attending martial arts was a hobby I picked up a few years back. My grandpa insisted that I should learn how to defend myself. Thus, I started with self-defense techniques and gradually learned more fighting styles like Karate, Capoeira, and Kung-Fu. I didn't manage to only train my body, but my mind too, and I learned to control my emotions better. Plus, I could blow off some steam whenever I was stressed.

"That is going to be an interesting meeting. Where did your mother meet him?" Izzie asked.

"David is the Head Chef at one of my grandfather's restaurants. That's how they met. He has a son named Christopher, who is two years older than us."

"Is he divorced?"

"Unfortunately, no. David's wife passed away almost ten years ago. She had leukemia; the doctors couldn't do anything to save her…"

"Oh no, that's so sad," she said with a gloomy expression.

"Well, I have a bad feeling about all this. I'm not sure what's exactly the cause, though..."

"Did you tell your mom?"

I shook my head. "I didn't want to worry her. She seems happy and so in love. I don't want to break that little bubble of happiness she's in."

"Maybe you're just anxious. Don't stress too much over it," Izzie said, shrugging.

A small sigh escaped my lips. My intuition never proved to be wrong, and that scared me even more.

I tried to brush it off, but then I started watching nightmares, or one to be precise. Three nights in a row, the same dream woke me up.

I was in our kitchen when the lights suddenly went off. I was holding something in my hands, but I wasn't sure what it was. When the lights came back again, there were small pieces of glass in my hands. Some of them cut my skin, and blood was running from the wounds. I didn't care about the cuts; on the contrary, I didn't even feel any pain. The only feeling inside me was pure anger; I was ragging.

Something was about to happen, and it wasn't good…

Saturday arrived sooner than I expected. The previous afternoon we'd cleaned the whole house, and my mom made sure everything was perfect. On Saturday morning, we went grocery shopping and at the supermarket. Mom had a rather long list of things she wanted to buy. She had to cook for six people instead of two, and not to mention that one of them was a professional chef. I wasn't very concerned about her cooking skills, though. She loves cooking and baking, and she spends most of her free time in the kitchen.

I was currently painting in my room when my mom burst into. "Oh, here you are, angel! Which napkins should I use?"

I raised my eyes from my painting to look at her. "I don't know. I like the beige ones a bit more," I answered, and she nodded.

"What are you painting again?" she questioned, coming around to check the canvas in front of me.

"It's just a vase."

"I bought this vase the other day, and I was about to unbox it. Wait a minute; I was alone when I bought, and you couldn't have seen it unless you…"

"I dreamed it," I replied, confirming her suspicions.

"It was just the vase, or did anything else happen in that dream?"

"I only saw the vase," I lied. Mom was stressed enough with the upcoming dinner, and I didn't want to add more to her worries.

"Very well then; please, come downstairs to help me arrange the table."

I wasn't sure if she believed me, but I was grateful that she let it slip. I tidied up my room a bit, and then I followed my mom downstairs.

"Ophelia, can you help me fold the napkins like this?" she said, and I followed her instructions.

"Are you nervous?" I asked her after a few minutes of silence.

"Ah, well, if dad won't be very strict with David, then we're going to be okay."

"Nana Eva will give him the silent treatment if he upsets you," I told her, smirking.

"Mom is the only woman in this world who can put your grandfather at his place," she chuckled.

"Are you done cooking?"

"Yes, although I was super worried about this, too. David is a chef. What if he doesn't like what I've cooked?"

"That's okay, but next time he will do all the cooking," I said, shrugging.

"You are very optimistic, angel. We have to survive this dinner, first…" It seems she was more worried than I'd thought.

"Everything will be okay. Relax and enjoy yourself. Now can you please let me try what you've cooked? It smells delicious."

I wasn't sure if I was trying to comfort her or myself. It seems like she had the same bad feeling with me, although none of us admitted it. Once the table was set, we tried the food she'd cooked. It was indeed scrumptious; I couldn't stop eating.

After that, we took a quick shower and dressed up. My mom paid extra attention to her make-up and her attire. She opted for a burgundy dress and black high heels. The golden details of her dress matched perfectly with her jewelry. She styled her dark brown hair into an updo and applied an earth tone eye shadow around her honey-colored eyes. On the contrary, I wore my skinny, black jeans with a grey blouse, which had a bit more cleavage than I wanted. My raven black hair fell to my back in natural waves; my sapphire blue eyes made the perfect contrast with my pale skin. I added a nude shade of lipstick and my little diamond earrings.

When the doorbell rang, my mom almost jumped up from her seat, but she didn't dare to walk to the door.

"Go and remember to smile," I pushed her gently towards the door. She inhaled deeply and then disappeared.

I stayed in the living room, trying to figure out who had just arrived. A few moments later, my mother came back with an unknown man beside her. He was taller than my mom and well-built. He seemed to be in his early 40s. He had dark brown eyes, his brown hair was mixed with a hint of grey at his temples, and stubble covers his chin.

"David, please meet my daughter, Ophelia. Ophelia, this is David," my mom did the introduction, and David extended his hand for a handshake.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," David said, a smile plastered on his face.

"The pleasure is all mine," I replied politely.

"Your mother has told me a lot about you."

"I'm sure she did. Hopefully, we'll have more time to get to know each other," I said, and my mom smiled brightly.

"I'd like that, too," David replied, his lips twitching in a smile.

We sat on the sofa, and mom poured David a drink.

"So, you are in the sixth grade, right?"

"That's right. Junior high school is better than I expected."

"Ophelia now has more time to spend on her hobbies," my mom explained.

"If I remember correctly, you like to draw, right?" David inquired, interested to know more.

"I have been drawing since forever; it's more of a need than a hobby for me. The paintings at the hall are mine," I said proudly.

"Really? Well done, they are amazing."

"That's why we hanged them. We keep the ugly ones in the basement," I joked, and we all burst into laughs.

"I thought Chris was coming, too," my mom commented when we sobered up.

"He will join us in a while. He had practice at the gym and couldn't miss nor postpone it," David explained.

The doorbell rang once more, and mom went to open the door.

"My grandfather usually doesn't bite. I'm sure they'll like you," I told David, and he seemed relieved for a second.

My grandparents came into the living room, followed by my mother, who did the introductions once again. My grandpa had a straight face and barely said three words, while my grandma being her usual talkative self, kept bombarding David with questions.

"When I hired you, I've never thought that you'd court my daughter," my grandpa finally said.

"Dad!" my mom exclaimed, her face as red as a tomato. David went paler than before, and my grandma gave her husband a pointed look.

"I've never thought that I'd open my hurt to another woman, again, sir," David said, trying to look composed.

"If you ever hurt any of them," said my grandfather, glancing towards myself and mom, "I'll make sure you..."

Grandpa was interrupted by David, "I won't, sir. You have my word," he said with a determined look in his eyes.

"Very well then," grandpa mumbled, looking pleased with David's answer.

My mom sighed, relieved since this informal duel was over. It seems that grandpa approved of their relationship.

"We haven't been at Rosa Bianca for a while now. Ana mentioned that you changed the menu," grandma said, changing the subject.

"You must come sometime soon then. People responded well to the revised menu; they liked the new dishes," David informed us with a bright smile.

"I hate to say that, but I told you so," my mom chuckled.

"I saw some pleasant criticisms posted in local magazines and newspapers. You both did an excellent job," my grandpa admitted. Mom and David thanked him, looking proud of themselves, and I was also very happy for them.

Papa Peter owned six restaurants in the city, each one of them had a different cuisine. Although he was about to retire, he kept still overlooking everything. My mom started managing the restaurants, and her dad was more than happy to see her take over the family business. David was the Head Chef at the Italian restaurant, and that's how they met. My mom had a hard time to convince him to change the menu, but it was worth it.

The conversation kept flowing; grandma asked me about school while the others talked about work. Mom insisted on waiting for Chris before we started eating. Almost an hour later, David had to call him, and he informed us that he was on his way to our house. David seemed displeased with his son's attitude, and I wondered if it was going to get any worse.

I helped mom bring the salads and the plates with the food in the dining room. We were all set when the doorbell rang for the third time that evening.

"Ophelia, open the door, please," yelled my mother from the kitchen.

A bit unsure, I headed to the door and yanked it open. My eyes winded a bit at the sight. On the doorstep, a boy was standing. He seemed a few years older than me and looked a lot like my mom's boyfriend, although his eyes were lighter and his hair messier than David's. He was taller than me, with broad shoulders, while some beads of sweat were running across his oval-shaped face. His clothes were wrinkled, probably by the working out he was doing, and I could tell that he was checking me out, too.

And then it was like my brain started working again. "You must be Christopher!" I said, trying to sound excited.

"And you must be the bastard daughter," he hissed through gritted teeth.

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