Chapter 211: Who Do You Think You Are?

Chapter 211: Who Do You Think You Are?

Nancy carried Clark into the dining room, and Crystal followed them. There was a high chair at the foot of the table for Clark. His mother sat to his left, and Crystal sat to his right.

As Nancy dished food onto Clark’s plate, he smiled and said, “Thank you, Mommy. You are the best cook in the whole world.”

“And you are the best son in the world.” Nancy smiled. She kissed him on the cheek and said, “Now, eat up quick before it gets cold.”

Before Clark could begin to eat, though, Paul walked into the room. He approached the head of the table and sat down. The other three watched him carefully and a little impatiently.

Now that he had joined them, they knew they could not eat until he started eating. That was one of his rules.

Paul looked over the food that Nancy had prepared, and he grimaced when he noticed that the dishes were all made to Clark’s liking. He was used to eating delicious food, and he was very particular about what he ate. He typically did not eat “children’s food,” and because it was his birthday, he was particularly put off by it.

Did she forget my birthday? - Paul wondered. He considered flipping the table but thought better of it. Finally, he put some food on his plate and started eating. Some of the dishes were too salty, some were too light, and others were hard to swallow, and he began to think that she had intentionally prepared them as disgusting as he’d thought it would be.

After spitting out the food that was in his mouth, Paul called one of the servants over and said, “Get this food out of my sight. All of it. Throw it in the garbage.”

Nancy was helping Clark with his food when she heard that, and her smile froze. She looked up and glared defiantly at Paul.

“What?” Paul hissed. “Do you have a problem?”

“I made this breakfast,” Nancy replied.

“Who do you think you are?”

Paul: “This is my home, and this food is not to my taste.”

Nancy: “Well, I used to cook to your taste, but you always left us waiting. The food would get cold, and I don’t remember you ever coming back. You preferred to eat out, and you only ate at home once or twice a month. Clark and I went hungry every time we waited for you, so how could we have known to expect you for this meal?”

Paul stood up and pointed his finger at Nancy. “How dare you speak to me in that tone?” he shouted.

Suddenly, Clark began to cry. Nancy sighed and said, “Look what you’ve done, now. You don’t need to yell. All I’m asking is for you to let our son eat in peace. Is that too much to ask for?”

Paul: “You want me to indulge him?”

Nancy: “Shouldn’t you indulge him? He’s your child.”

Paul gripped his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Enough,” he said. Then he turned to the servant he’d summoned. “What are you waiting for?” he asked. “I am your boss. Now, get rid of this fucking garbage food!”

The servant walked around the table to get the roasted chicken wings out of the way. However, before she could get to them, Nancy picked them up and pulled them out of his reach. They were one of Clark’s favorite foods, but he never got to eat them because they were not to his Father’s liking. Thus, she was determined that he would get to enjoy these wings this time.

“What the Hell, Nancy?” Shouted Paul. He shot the servant a dirty look, and he flinched.

Nancy: “You’ve gone too far. You have no Fatherly love for our son, and you don’t deserve to be a parent!”

Paul smiled coldly, and he said, “fuck that.

Now give up the food before I have my bodyguards pry it from your fingers.”

“Please,” begged Nancy. “Let me propose a compromise. If you let Clark eat his breakfast, I will prepare something special for you.” Paul raised his eyebrows in satisfaction and said, “Okay, but don’t keep me waiting.”

Nancy nodded, and after handing Clark off to Crystal, she hurried into the kitchen. Once she was gone, Crystal brought a piece of grilled meat to the boy’s mouth and said, “Clark, here you are. Open up for a chicken wing.”

Nancy began to sweat as she stressed over what to cook for Paul. It seemed he was even pickier than he had been when they were married. He was used to professional chefs, and she didn’t think anything she made would fare well against such cuisine. Why couldn’t he have just been happy with what I made? - she wondered.

Nancy hesitated for a moment, and then she poked her head out of the kitchen. “What would you like to eat?” she asked.

“You don’t know what I like to eat?” Paul asked. “You were my wife. You should know what I like!”

“Please,” Nancy cried. “I am trying to do something nice for you. Would it be that hard for you to throw me a bone?”

Before Paul could answer, his phone rang. He checked the Caller ID, and then he left the room to take the call in private. As Nancy watched him go, tears began to stream down her face. She turned to her son and said, “Eat yup as much as you can before Daddy comes and takes it away...”

****

Paul walked out into the backyard with his cell phone pressed to the side of his face. As Eric explained his situation to him, he made his way to the buttonwood tree. It offered shade from the sun, and a swing was hanging from one of the thicker branches. He sat down and kicked his feet into the air like a happy child. Once his friend was done talking, he said, “Tell me more about this woman.”

“She is my wife,” Eric replied. It was not precisely true, but she had agreed to marry him. Thus, he considered her his wife and a piece of property that belonged to him. He still couldn’t believe what she’d done, and he felt like he’d been robbed.

Paul lit a fag and took a few small drags while his friend was talking. “I didn’t know that you were married,” he said. “You were always such a Playboy.” Paul had also been a Playboy, and Eric had made fun of him when he married Nancy, regardless of his reasons for doing so.

“This is no time to joke around,” Eric moaned.

Paul: Hey! Turnabout is fair play!”