Page 47 of Unconventionally, Elle
Floral wallpaper and the smell of aged wood surrounded us as we walked in to greet Mr. Henry.
"Hello, Father." Barrett's voice was short and crisp.
The tension in the room was thicker than the cigar smoke. My heart ached for Barrett and the person he had to become around his parents, mainly his father. His mother was quiet, seen but not heard. I had a feeling, though, for no particular reason, that Barrett was her baby and she loved him dearly. A few times I saw her look from Barrett to her husband, and her eyes were heavy, her forehead creased with concern.
The Henrys, they had all of this money and all of this financial success, yet I knew all Barrett wanted to do was run home with me and watch baseball. I guess you can be financially successful but still lack in other areas of your life. Barrett had told me that his big dream was to own a sailboat and have a tour company off of Nantucket. He just wanted to sail. He was excited to bring me there, because for him, that was his happy place.
"Good evening, Mr. Henry. Nice to meet you, I'm Elle Watson." I extended my hand, hoping it was the right thing to do.
"The pleasure is all mine." His smile was forced, his face tense with a lack of genuine joy.
After a few cocktails, everyone seemed to relax a little more. Mrs. Henry talked more to me instead of through Barrett, and she even gave me a few somewhat genuine smiles throughout the evening's conversations. To be honest, it was hard to tell, but I'd accept any smile that woman gave me.
Dinner was delicious--a baked ham with all the usual Thanksgiving sides--but also, smoked salmon?
Barrett leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Dad has a poultry allergy. I saw you staring at the salmon." He chuckled lightly and his breath sent a tingle through my spine.
While I was still a little insecure, I felt so incredibly special that Barrett had brought me to meet his family. Emma was supposed to be at dinner, but Olivia had her on assignment in New York and she hadn't made it back yet. Mr. Henry's voice was soft and proud when he spoke about Emma. I wasn't sure, but the way his eyes lit up at the mention of her name, I had a feeling she was his favorite.
"So, Elle, I hear you work with Emma. Is that right?" Mrs. Henry asked casually before looking over at her husband.
"Yes, that's correct." I smiled. "I'm a freelancer for the magazine she works for and see her in the office pretty often. We also do yoga together."We also do yoga together? C'mon, Elle, I told myself.
"A freelancer?" Mr. Henry interjected. "So you aren't actually employed with them?"
Well, that wasn't where I thought this was going. I hesitated for only a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm employed, but more so on my terms, I guess you could say. I work as an independent contractor while Emma is actually a full-time employee."
He didn't skip a beat. "So you don't work full time?" He looked to Barrett. "Margaret isemployedat that magazine your aunt runs. Isn't she the art director or something high up like that?"
Barrett's face blanched at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. I could feel the frustration and anger rising in my chest. His dad was twisting my words. And also,aunt? Olivia was Barrett and Emma's aunt.Holy shit!Before Barrett could reply, I chimed in again.
"Yes, Margaret is there still. She does a wonderful job for the magazine with layout and design." I was going to kill with kindness.I repeat, kill with kindness.
Sitting next to Barrett, I could feel him getting uneasy and noticed his shoulders draw up toward his ears. Tension was gathering in his shoulder blades, so I placed my hand on his upper back and made soft, circular motions to help him relax.
"I see. So as an independent contractor, you're not entitled to benefits or retirement then, correct?" Mr. Henry continued arrogantly with his twenty questions.
I was beginning to feel defensive, like he was attacking me for something I did wrong.
"Dad, I really don't think this is appropriate," Barrett said, his voice tense and low.
"Barrett, I can ask Elle about her work. It's fair game, right, Elle?" Mr. Henry asked with an overly sweet voice.
What is wrong with this man?I thought to myself.
While holding her wineglass with glazed eyes and a content smile, Mrs. Henry chimed in to the conversation. "I'm so glad you've met Margaret. We love her. You know, she and Barrett were a hot item? We thought for sure they'd be announcing an engagement, but--"
"Mother!" Barrett's voice was hot and firm.
Mrs. Henry closed her mouth abruptly and looked at Barrett with a confused and slightly annoyed expression on her face. "What, Barrett? It's true. We all thought--"
He cut her off again. "Mother, that's enough. We aren't here to talk about Margaret. That relationship is over." I could feel the heat radiating off his back, so I moved my hand to hold his underneath the table. His palms were sweaty, and I squeezed gently as our fingers interlaced on top of his thigh. I had to keep him calm. If he lost control of his emotions, they'd eat him alive. We were definitely going to need a stiff drink after this dinner.
I couldn't look away from Mrs. Henry. I didn't think she hated me, but she was a little cold earlier. Now she was acting aloof. After Barrett reprimanded her outburst, she began to pout and kept looking over to Mr. Henry, then to her glass. Sip, pout, sip. In that glimpse of a moment, I couldn't be angry with her; I felt bad for her. She was coping with this very uncomfortable situation, and she was coping with her wine. I wondered how often that was the case for her.
I turned a challenging gaze back to Mr. Henry. He didn't scare me; he annoyed the fuck out of me, and I wasn't intimidated by this small-minded, narcissistic man.
"Mr. Henry."
