isn't true any more. My mom, his wife, is dead and he's at liberty to take another one anytime he chooses. He just chose sooner rather than later and that seems like a smack in the face to her. If you love someone, surely you don't seek to replace them that fast.
“How? Where?”
“We flew to The Seychelles for the weekend. I only meant to surprise her with the ring but then it was so romantic that emotions got the better of us.”
“Didn't you want your family to attend?” As in me. My own father could not get married without me there. I mean it just doesn't happen. “Who is she? Do I even know her?”
“Yes and no. That's the surprise. She'll be here any moment. I should have waited to tell you.”
“No actually you should have told me much sooner and not waited.” I say, the pain making me vile.
“Now don't start throwing one of your temper fits, Lisa. You should be happy for me. Your mother would have wanted it and she never liked tantrums.”
“How dare you bring Mom into this when you've – defiled – her memory and brought-”
I'm stuttering and blubbering unable to get the words out through the thick goo of my rage and pain and total worthlessness when the door floats open and a vision appears. A woman I know, or think I know, literally wafts into the room and my father throws himself across the broad expanse to hold her arm as though she might fall and break.
How must it feel to know you're that precious to someone? That a man cares about you that deeply? In my envy I'm determined to hate her forever.
“Monica, please allow me the honor of introducing you to my daughter, Lisa.”
“Our daughter now, Cola. Hallo, my dear. I am so glad to meet you finally.”
The woman sweeps me into her bosomy embrace and I'm overcome with the sweet smell of her perfume. The clank of the diamonds dangling from her neck into my collarbone. She's a bundle of over-priced femininity and my father is plainly besotted.
“Yes, finally I get to meet the woman my Father’s been keeping a secret,” I say with clenched jaws as I break free from her suffocating hold.
“That I’m afraid is my fault. You see we're kept under tight contractual control at the studio and my publicity people have the run of me.” She gives me an ingratiating smile with arms held out in supplication like the helpless soul she clearly is not.
Studio?
Oh fuck, yeah, now I know where I've seen her. Some boring movie for the old folks my dad had made me sit through the only night in a year he spent any time with me. I should have known it wasn't a selfless act. He had no interest in us hanging out, he just wanted to get together with his paramour even through the magic of film.
Monica DeAngelis. That's her name. A movie star of a certain age who appears frequently in People magazine as one of the sexiest women in the world. Quite a coup d'etat for my diplomat dad. No wonder he couldn't wait to get the pre-nup inked.
“And your publicity people didn't want even close family finding out,” I snap.
“Now Lisa, what have I told you about temper?”
“It's okay, Cola,” Madam MovieStar says as she holds up her hand. I've never seen my dominant dad so docile as with this new bride. She is clearly wearing the pants for all her flowing silk gowns.
And why the fuck is she calling him Cola, like he's a fizzy pop? A flash image of the only other person who'd used that nickname makes the chasm between my legs clench anew.
“It's to be expected that she's upset,” Monica is clearly a woman who never stops mouthing off. “My dear, your father was afraid of this. He was worried that telling you about his new love would bring back too much pain about losing your mother.”
“Well he was right about one thing,” I whine.
“So you see why he didn't tell you. But I have a lovely surprise to make up for it.”
I was pretty much all out of excitement for lovely surprises at the moment.
“I have a movie premiere tonight and we're all
“How? Where?”
“We flew to The Seychelles for the weekend. I only meant to surprise her with the ring but then it was so romantic that emotions got the better of us.”
“Didn't you want your family to attend?” As in me. My own father could not get married without me there. I mean it just doesn't happen. “Who is she? Do I even know her?”
“Yes and no. That's the surprise. She'll be here any moment. I should have waited to tell you.”
“No actually you should have told me much sooner and not waited.” I say, the pain making me vile.
“Now don't start throwing one of your temper fits, Lisa. You should be happy for me. Your mother would have wanted it and she never liked tantrums.”
“How dare you bring Mom into this when you've – defiled – her memory and brought-”
I'm stuttering and blubbering unable to get the words out through the thick goo of my rage and pain and total worthlessness when the door floats open and a vision appears. A woman I know, or think I know, literally wafts into the room and my father throws himself across the broad expanse to hold her arm as though she might fall and break.
How must it feel to know you're that precious to someone? That a man cares about you that deeply? In my envy I'm determined to hate her forever.
“Monica, please allow me the honor of introducing you to my daughter, Lisa.”
“Our daughter now, Cola. Hallo, my dear. I am so glad to meet you finally.”
The woman sweeps me into her bosomy embrace and I'm overcome with the sweet smell of her perfume. The clank of the diamonds dangling from her neck into my collarbone. She's a bundle of over-priced femininity and my father is plainly besotted.
“Yes, finally I get to meet the woman my Father’s been keeping a secret,” I say with clenched jaws as I break free from her suffocating hold.
“That I’m afraid is my fault. You see we're kept under tight contractual control at the studio and my publicity people have the run of me.” She gives me an ingratiating smile with arms held out in supplication like the helpless soul she clearly is not.
Studio?
Oh fuck, yeah, now I know where I've seen her. Some boring movie for the old folks my dad had made me sit through the only night in a year he spent any time with me. I should have known it wasn't a selfless act. He had no interest in us hanging out, he just wanted to get together with his paramour even through the magic of film.
Monica DeAngelis. That's her name. A movie star of a certain age who appears frequently in People magazine as one of the sexiest women in the world. Quite a coup d'etat for my diplomat dad. No wonder he couldn't wait to get the pre-nup inked.
“And your publicity people didn't want even close family finding out,” I snap.
“Now Lisa, what have I told you about temper?”
“It's okay, Cola,” Madam MovieStar says as she holds up her hand. I've never seen my dominant dad so docile as with this new bride. She is clearly wearing the pants for all her flowing silk gowns.
And why the fuck is she calling him Cola, like he's a fizzy pop? A flash image of the only other person who'd used that nickname makes the chasm between my legs clench anew.
“It's to be expected that she's upset,” Monica is clearly a woman who never stops mouthing off. “My dear, your father was afraid of this. He was worried that telling you about his new love would bring back too much pain about losing your mother.”
“Well he was right about one thing,” I whine.
“So you see why he didn't tell you. But I have a lovely surprise to make up for it.”
I was pretty much all out of excitement for lovely surprises at the moment.
“I have a movie premiere tonight and we're all
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