A Look Back: Rennillia Series - Prequel (2 page)

Chapter 2

Quickly sitting up, I glanced at Hert who was on his feet when there was a knock on my bedroom door. I motioned for him to go into the bathroom while I unlocked my door and stepped into the hallway.

“Have you heard from Scott?” my mother asked.

As I shook my head, she informed, “Abigail called, Charles moved out. If you do hear from him tell him he needs to go home.”

“Yes ma’am,” I agreed before she said, “I have to go, I will be back this evening.”

Nodding at her, I turned and shut my door, locking it behind myself.

Swinging the bathroom door open, I said, “Your father moved out. Your mother told mine.”

The look on his face was stunned yet relieved. I was so happy for him I almost hugged him.

We stood in the bathroom quietly staring at each other for a while before Hert said, “I guess I’d better get home then.”

“Now?” I asked.

He appeared confused, saying, “I wasn’t going to stay here forever.”

Nodding, I offered, “My mother’s leaving, at least let me make us breakfast before you go.”

Nodding, Hert agreed.

With my mother gone for the day, Hert and I went to the kitchen. After I made breakfast, we sat at the table eating. I was sad to see him going home but happy it would be peaceful from now on. When breakfast was over Hert helped me clean up the kitchen. As we washed the dishes I started flicking water at him. Several serious glances later, he started playing back and both of us were laughing until the back door slammed shut. Hert stepped half way in front of me. All I could do was watch my father’s face turning red as I stared wide eyed at him.

“Boy you better get outta my house!” my father shouted.

I started defending Hert and I, saying, “We weren’t doing anything.”

Before my father could respond, Hert said, “Sir, it’s my fault.”

My father’s voice boomed as he hollered, “How dare you speak to me you worthless bastard, find some other little whore to…”

I stopped my father’s rant, shouting, “It was my fault.”

Hert looked down at me, saying, “Renni.”

Looking up at him, I pleaded, “Go home, please.”

Hert walked to the front door after assuring, “Mr. Cantinelli, I apologize for being here without your permission. I would never disrespect your daughter.”

When the door shut, I braced myself. Familiar with what was about to occur, I could have begged and pleaded, swore that nothing happened but it wouldn’t have made a difference. I would just prolong the inevitable. It was one of those situations where your first instinct is to run but I covered my face with my arms instead.

As my father tried to beat some obedience into me, I thought about Hert getting to go back home. At the end, he pulled my arms away from my face.

“I better not catch that boy anywhere near this house again,” he shouted before grabbing my face with his hand and yelling, “That’s all I need, for you to get knocked up.”

As he let go, I stated, “Yes Sir,” and walked to my room.

Lying on my bed, I started wondering how long it would be before I had to hear yelling again. I got my answer when my door flew open and my father stormed in.

Throwing a box at me, he yelled, “You’re staying home the rest of the week.”

“Yes Sir,” I spouted.

“And you’re wearing a dress on Friday,” he informed before slamming my door.

Kicking the dress box off my bed, I curled up into my comforter.

Later in the evening, I heard my father hollering and knew my mother had returned. I couldn’t tell what he was saying; I only noticed his voice getting closer to my door.

I shouted, “What did I do now?” as he yanked me out of bed and drug me into the kitchen.

“A man can’t trust the women in his own house! This is why I came back early! Now where was she?” he shouted, jerking me around to face my mother.

Confused, I replied, “Sir?”

He continued shouting, “Ya’ll are both the same! Both of you mignotta, merdoso!”

I was instantly offended. Not that he said I was a filthy whore but that he compared me to my mother. I had done just about everything in my power, talk out of turn, break the rules as often as possible, in order to not be silently obedient like her.

Before I could help it, I shouted back at him, “I am nothing like her!”

The look of hurt on my mother’s face wasn’t as surprising as the back of my father’s hand across my mouth. He had never hit me in the face before. My eyes instantly welled up with tears which upset me even more.

From about the age of thirteen, I refused to cry. If I cried, it was like I was saying I was sorry. I was never sorry. I took my licks, so to speak, with a sense of pride. I took great pride in the knowledge that my father could not control me.

I reached up touching my lip, looking at my bloody fingers I heard my father shout, “Look what you made me do!” to my mother before storming off to his room and slamming the door behind himself.

I knew why my father was upset and it had nothing to do with hurting me. He had busted my lip, which meant, I would have a big fat lip when we went to dinner at the Roberts’ house. I glanced at my mother. She looked right past me and walked to her room. Grabbing a paper towel, I opened the freezer and placed a hand full of ice in it. I walked to my room and then to my bathroom to survey the damage. It wasn’t that bad. After washing my mouth out, I laid across my bed holding ice to my lip. Once it stopped bleeding, I checked it again, finding it slightly swollen with only one small slit on my bottom lip. I have to admit, I was disappointed. My mouth hurt like hell and was throbbing but it would hardly be noticeable for the dinner.

Crawling back into bed, I wrapped the comforter all the way around myself. After trying hard to fall asleep, I gave up when I realized it wasn’t going to happen. I unwrapped the comforter from around myself and reached down grabbing the dress box off of the floor. I opened the box and found a little gray dress. It was pretty. However, I was still resentful enough not to try it on. I placed it back in the box and threw the box back on the floor. Flinging myself back to a lying position, I glanced over and saw Hert’s wallet sitting on the little bench by my bed. Smiling to myself, I thought, ‘what kind of person would I be, if I didn’t return it as soon as possible’. Hopping up off my bed, I pulled on a pair of jeans, sticking his wallet in my back pocket. Sliding my shoes on, I walked to my window and opened it.

Hert’s house was four blocks from mine but if I cut through the back way, something we always did as kids, it only took about ten minutes to get there. Slowly creeping up to his window, I could see him perfectly. Hert was lying on his bed with his arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. I tapped on his window and watched him get out of bed and walk toward me.

Smiling as he opened the window, I climbed in saying, “Whatcha’ doin?”

Shaking his head, he asked, “You’re not in enough trouble already?”

“I’m not worried about it,” I assured, sitting down on his bed.

Hert narrowed his eyes at me asking, “What happened to your lip?”

Giving him a stupid look, I said, “What do you think.”

Starting to pace back and forth, Hert clenched his fists saying, “I knew it was a bad idea.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as I stated, “Just stop. First of all I knew what would happen if my father found out.” I pointed to my mouth before continuing to say, “And second, this was not because of you.”

In disbelief he snapped, “So he didn’t do anything when I left?”

I laughed a little saying, “Oh, I caught a beat down but he back handed me when I yelled at him after my mother got home.”

Shaking his head at me, Hert sat down on his bed next to me.

We just stared at each other for a few minutes. I figured he was thinking of things to be mad at me about, while I kept thinking I wish he would come back to my house.

Visibly irritated, he took a deep breath before saying, “You shouldn’t have asked me to stay or I shouldn’t have, why did you do that if you knew what was going to happen.”

Irritated now, I scowled at him as I snapped, “Really?”

Shaking his head, Hert offered, “I won’t put you in that position again.”

“You didn’t put me in any position ya jerk,” I fussed starting to get up.

Hert grabbed my shoulder trying to stop me. He immediately let go when I winced.

“Let me see,” he snapped.

Rubbing my fingertips across my forehead, I assured, “No, I’m fine.”

I was fine, that is until I saw the look of anguish on his face.

His tone was soft as he asked, “Let me check and see if you’re okay.”

He looked so upset I couldn’t say no.

Turning my back to him, I stared at the wall as he lifted the back of my shirt up.

When he gently placed his hand flat against my back, and breathed, “Renni,” my eyes got a little watery.

Feeling embarrassed, I stood up saying, “It’s not that bad. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

Quickly turning to face him, I snapped, “I’m not doing anything. And for your information Hert, I don’t need you looking at me all pitiful either. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.”

He snapped back, sarcastically saying, “Yea, I can tell.”

“You’re such an ass!” I blurted.

Hert stood up fussing, “Because I don’t want you to get hurt?”

“No because you don’t get it,” I argued.

“What don’t I get?” he questioned.

Shaking my head at him, I explained, “You’re my favorite person in the whole entire world, Hert. You’re always worth the fight. That man doesn’t get to wake up one day and just decide I can’t be friends with you anymore and I’m never gonna let anyone come between us.”

I waited for a minute for him to say something. When he only stared at me, I took his wallet out of my back pocket.

Tossing it on his bed, I said, “You left it in my room,” then climbed out his window and walked home.

Chapter 3

Friday started off busy. It was a little odd how happy my father was, he almost appeared giddy. He took me into town, bought me a new pair of shoes to match the dress he gave me and even took me to get my hair done. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he simply wanted to spend the day with me. However, knowing how he was, I understood he wanted to make a good impression on the Roberts’. I absolutely loved dresses but I really wasn’t a fan of wearing them. As silly as that sounds, I usually only wore a dress once before it was banished to my closet forever. Not because I didn’t like re-wearing clothes, I just preferred jeans and a t-shirt. My hair was always unruly and I could never quite get it to behave. My idea of fixing it consisted of pulling it up in a ponytail. I’m sure my father was afraid I would show up to the Roberts’ house looking like a mess.

Carefully pulling my dress over my head, as not to mess up my hair, I stood in front of the mirror. It wasn’t really my style of dress, I liked long sundresses that brushed the tops of my feet when I walked but it was nice. It was light gray with cap sleeves and fell right above my knees. I grabbed my new shoes and walked out of my room and into the kitchen.

Taking one look at me, my father fussed, “You’re not going to wear makeup?”

Sighing, I turned to go back to my room, saying, “I guess so.”

Back in my room, I leaned over the bathroom counter as I put my makeup on. When I did, I noticed several finger print bruises on the back of my arm. Sighing, I finished fixing my makeup and walked to my closet. Trying again, I grabbed a little black cardigan out of my closet and headed back to the kitchen.

My father inspected me closely. I could tell he was looking at my bottom lip to see if it was noticeable. It was much better and barely noticeable with lipstick, so unless someone was really staring, you couldn’t tell.

As I started to put my sweater on, my father snapped, “Can’t you ever just do what I want?”

With a sarcastic smile, I raised my arm so he could see why I was wearing it. He made no comment about the bruises. He just rushed me out the door and into the car. On the way there, my father went on and on about proper behavior and making a good impression. Just when I thought I would lose my mind if I heard him say young lady again, we pulled up to the house.

My eyes almost popped out of my head. The Roberts’ house was ridiculously huge, I had never seen anything like it. We walked a long pathway to the front door.

Before my father knocked, he informed, “This is the biggest opportunity of your life. Don’t screw it up.”

I begrudgingly nodded as he knocked. The door quickly opened and we were shown inside.

There was marble and crystal everywhere. The entire living room was bright like a diamond catching the sunlight. As I glanced towards the stairs, I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in real life. She was the picture of perfection from head to toe. As she made her way down the stairs, I saw a man behind her. Equally perfect, I knew he was her other half.

My father took a step back as he put his hand on my shoulder, saying, “Rennillia, this is Mr. and Mrs. Roberts.”

I was too overwhelmed to speak. Smiling, I politely nodded at them.

Mrs. Roberts walked right up to me, saying, “Deangelo, she is absolutely lovely.”

As my father smiled with pride, Mr. Roberts escorted him into the other room.

“Please have a seat dear,” Mrs. Roberts offered.

With another polite nod, I replied, “Yes ma’am.”

Taking the seat across from me, she stated, “Emerson will be down in just a moment. His basketball game ended late.” Continuing to smile at me, she added, “You and he are the same age.”

Nodding, I said, “I am turning sixteen next week.”

Seemingly excited, she asked, “Are you having a party dear?”

“Oh, no ma’am,” I answered.

She looked a bit disappointed before offering, “We can have a dinner for you here.”

Confused, I politely smiled.

Had I missed something? As nice as she seemed, I thought Mrs. Roberts might be a little on the crazy side. Here I was, a complete and total stranger, and she wants to have a birthday dinner for me. I started to look around suddenly feeling uncomfortable when the thought occurred to me she might be feeling I needed charity or something. I glanced up and saw Emerson standing at the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t know him but had seen him many times at school. He was already sixteen, although he could easily pass for twenty. Emerson was one of those people that were so handsome you could just stare at them for hours. Now that I had seen his parents, I knew where he got it from. He was a good foot taller than me and did I mention how handsome he was? Most girls were dying to go out with him. In fact, his current girlfriend sat right in front of me in English and that’s all she ever talked about. She talked about his new car, his money and all the fancy places he took her. It made me have the opposite feeling than all those other girls. Normally, I judged people by how they treated Hert, and even though I never saw them interact, I was sure someone like Emerson would look down on him. I will admit, if I had to be stuck at a dinner with my father and a deranged party throwing stranger, at least I had something pleasant to look at.

Emerson sat down on the other end of the couch. Feeling even more uncomfortable than before, I noticed Mrs. Roberts glancing back and forth between the two of us with a pleased look on her face.

“I will be upstairs, Rennillia it was a pleasure to meet you dear,” Mrs. Roberts stated as she left the room.

“Yes ma’am, it was nice to meet you too,” I agreed.

She disappeared up the stairs and the room was quiet for a moment.

Emerson broke the silence, asking, “Do you play pool?”

Shrugging, I replied, “Not regularly.”

With an amused smile, he asked, “Would you like to play?”

I took a second to consider before I said, “Sure.”

Emerson stood up and motioned for me to follow him. I followed him through the living room and into the kitchen. Before we made it to the back door, my father and Mr. Roberts walked around the corner. Mr. Roberts had a serious expression on his face while my father’s reflected a gratified disposition.

My father stated, “We aren’t staying for dinner.”

Looking up at Emerson, I said, “Maybe some other time,” thinking it was time to leave.

Emerson looked at my father, asking, “If I bring her home later, can Rennillia stay?”

Appearing pleased, my father replied, “Her curfew is midnight.”

I looked at Mr. Roberts for approval as he offered, “You are welcome to stay Rennillia.”

With a slight smile, I nodded and we continued out of the back door.

Questioning what the hell was going on, I thought, it was strange enough for Mrs. Roberts to offer to have me over for my birthday and the dinner that we had no dinner at but now not only was my father letting me stay with Emerson, I had until midnight. Whatever Mr. Roberts and my father had discussed must have made my father very happy because I was never allowed to do anything.

Walking through a little covered area, we stepped into the garage. It was big enough to fit twenty cars and right to the left was a pool table.

“Would you like something to drink?” Emerson asked.

Shaking my head, I answered, “No thank you.”

Smiling at me he handed me a stick and we started to play. Although, I was horrible at it, I was having a lot of fun.

Not that I minded but I had to ask, “Hey, why did you ask for me to stay?”

Questioning my question, he asked, “Were you ready to leave?”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I stated, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I wanted to get to know you better,” he revealed.

Confused, I asked, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Laughing a little, he answered, “We’re playing pool not making out.”

Feeling embarrassed, I admitted, “I don’t think that came out the way I meant it to.” Continuing to try and save face, I explained, “Your girlfriend is in one of my classes and she doesn’t seem like the kinda girl that would be okay with this.”

“Will your boyfriend care?” he asked.

Giving him a strange look, I said, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I thought you were with that one guy, Scott. Ya’ll are always together,” he explained.

Laughing a little at the thought, I blurted, “Hert!” shaking my head.

Emerson gave me a confused look as I clarified, “Long story but Scott Herterand is Hert.”

Nodding in confirmation, he said, “He’s not your boyfriend? You and he are always together.”

Smiling, I said, “Our parents…well our fathers are friends so we grew up together. We’re like family I guess, but better.”

Emerson nodded again and we continued our game.

Not much time passed before I noticed him staring at me.

“Is there something you wanna say?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

As if he was trying hard to comprehend, he asked, “Did you and he get into a fight?”

“Me and Hert?” I asked before he nodded and I snapped, “No, Why?”

“I’m not trying to make you mad, I only asked because both of you missed school then he came back with a black eye, and you look like someone hit you in the lip.”

I couldn’t help smiling a little when I realized he must have been staring at my lips in order to notice. Incredibly flattered, I almost wished I had a thing for him.

Quickly dispelling his thought, I assured, “They are unrelated.”

Appearing concerned, he asked, “So what did happen to you then?”

I didn’t know how to answer. I could have just lied but when I looked into his eyes, I didn’t want to. There was something about Emerson’s soft brown eyes that made me want to pour my heart out to him.

“I busted my lip,” I said, taking the easy way out before changing the subject by saying, “Now why do you wanna get to know me better?”

Emerson flashed a quick smile before saying, “Well you’re not hard to look at,” as my face started turning red he shared, “I see you at school all the time and I… I’m kind of curious about you. You always look, I don’t know, like you need a hug.”

Tilting my head to the side, I said, “You wanna give me a hug.”

My statement was taken as an offer.

“Yea,” he shrugged just before he stepped right in front of me.

Emerson wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. I couldn’t believe the feeling it gave me. In the fifteen years I had been alive I had held hands, been pushed, kissed, shoved, felt up once and slapped but never once hugged. That one hug was all it took and I was in love. Not the heart pounding I can’t wait to get you alone love, the kind of love that makes you feel safe and secure. Leaning my cheek into his chest, I hugged him back. I was a little sad when he let go.

Trying to pretend the hug wasn’t as important to me as it truly was, I laughed, “So now you’ve hugged me. Feel better?”

Emerson’s smile was sweet as he concluded, “I think we both do.”

I couldn’t help myself from smiling. The thought occurred to me, aside from their money and position, the Roberts’ were just really nice people. Feeling bad now for thinking his mother was a little off; I decided to talk to him about her.

“Your mother is really nice,” I said.

With a curious look, he questioned, “My mother?”

Nodding, I explained, “Well, I just met her and she offered to have me over for dinner on my birthday.”

A slight smirk crossed Emerson’s face as he informed, “She must like you. Just so you know that is a pretty big deal. My mother is always very polite but she will put someone in their place quick if they don’t meet her expectations.”

“She said I was lovely,” I shared feeling proud of myself.

Smiling wide this time, Emerson asked, “Would you want to come back over tomorrow, Rennillia?”

Nodding, I said, “Sure but I have to ask my father.”

He nodded back, saying, “If you can I will come and pick you up.”

I nodded at him hoping my father would let me come over again.

The rest of the evening seemed to fly by as we finished our game. On the way home, I thought about how different Emerson was from Hert.

Breaking my train of thought, Emerson asked, “Why are you so quiet?”

Before I could think my answer through, I replied, “Sorry, I was thinking about Hert.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed.

Quickly clarifying, I said, “I had a lot of fun with you, it’s just he’s having some problems and …” before I could finish, Emerson asked, “Because his father left?”

I was startled for a moment then remembered; in a small town everyone knows everyone’s business.

“I guess,” I answered.

Almost apologizing, he shared, “I heard my father tell my mother the other night.”

Wondering how it was any of the Roberts’ business, I asked, “What did he say?”

Shrugging, Emerson said, “That he had left and that they should see what they could do to help.”