Page 86 of Constantine: Britain's Story: Part 2
Britain
It’s something of a gothic mansion in the heart of town. Surrounded by fig groves and perfectly manicured shrubs, the Scala house screamsold money. My point is only drilled home when I pull up to a gate with security at the entrance.Seems unnecessary.After I show my ID, the guard instructs me to park in the roundabout and that someone will greet me at the front door.
The house is domineering and cold looking, and I already regret not letting Liam bring me. I drive up to the roundabout, complete with a fountain in the middle, and put my car in park. The front entrance features an arched double door with dark, wood paneling and iron bars over the window. It’sa vibe,but the cherry on top is the face that greets me. And by “greet” I mean looks at me like I’m a pile of dog shit she’s been forced to clean up.Gina. My internal instincts are all telling me to turn, run, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars.
But just like curiosity killed the cat, here I am. I’m thankful I at least let Jess choose my dress for my lunch with Constantine.It’s another flowy Zimmermann midi, and even though it’s stunning, I look like I’m wearing a potato sack next to Gina in her high heels, wide-legged trousers that cinch at her petite waist, and a silk shirt.Why does she have to be so pretty?
I leave the comfort of my car and walk slowly up to Gina. Her expression doesn’t wane in the slightest when she greets me. All I receive is a, “He’s waiting for you,” and a swish of her hair in my face as she turns to lead me to what I’m beginning to assume is my death.Okay.
Even though the exterior of the home is dark, cold stone, the interior opens to a bright and light space. The walls are painted cream and the furniture is modern and overstuffed, everything done in perfectly worn leather or mohair.Nice.
Gina takes me down a long back hall that's filled with old black and white photos.Family maybe?But not anyone in this family. The photos all look like they’re from another generation, probably even a couple back.
We stop outside an open door where Gina knocks gently and Constantine calls her in. We walk into the room that looks more like a library than an office, but nevertheless it is. A glossy, oversized mahogany desk sits in the middle of the room, with Constantine sitting behind it. He stands when he sees us, and breaks out into a wide smile.
“Britain!” he practically shouts, coming around the desk to greet me with a big hug and pat on the back. I return the embrace, but can’t help but notice that Gina is still standing there giving me a death glare. When Constantine releases me, he motions and says, “Gina, have you met Britain before? She’s Georgie’s daughter. Our girl!”Our girl?
“Yes, I may have run into her once before,” Gina says dryly.
“It’s nice to see you again, Gina,” I offer up politely. She doesn’t respond, though, just turns and walks away. Right beforeshe gets to the door, she calls back, “Lunch will be served in 30 minutes, Uncle!” And then she’s gone.Good riddance.
Constantine is still standing at my side and I look to him, hoping he’ll lead since I’m still at a loss for why I’m here. He places a hand over the top of my shoulder and says, “Come, let’s sit down. We have so much to talk about.”We do?He sits me down on a chesterfield sofa by the window, taking a seat across from me on a mirroring sofa.
“Hi, darling,” he starts. It’s an oddly intimate endearment, but I just smile. “You must have so many questions.” His eyes turn watery.
“Um, yes, I suppose I do.” Not that I could think of a single one right now. “Maybe you could just start with why you asked me to lunch today. I’ll be honest, after everything that happened with Matthias, I didn’t think I’d hear from you…and I know this is uncomfortable, which is why I didn’t want to bring it up at the Greek Fest. But he’snotthe father of my baby.”
“Oh, I know. Liam’s the father.”He knows?
“Oh, okay,” I say, then wait for him to answer the rest of my question.
“Britain,” he pauses to scoot forward on the sofa so he’s closer, “I’m assuming you’ve gone through Georgia’s personal effects?”
“The notebooks, you mean?”
“The notebooks were only part of it.” I wait for him to elaborate. It was basically just a box of notebooks, and then some old photos and birthday cards. “Did you look at any of the photos or read the birthday cards?”No.
“Um, no, just the notebooks.”
“Ahh, okay, then we have a little explaining to do, don’t we?” He gives me a warm smile, standing to go get a box off his desk. He walks back over to me, setting it beside me on the sofa andthen sits himself on the other side of the box. I turn towards him as he opens it.
If what Georgia left me was her life and memories in a box, what Constantine has here is my adolescence in a box. My old teddy bear and baby blankets are immediately recognizable. There’s a box with an old rattle and baby bootie. There’s my artwork from the second grade. And the book on sea otters I wrote in the sixth. I place my hand to my mouth in astonishment, and when I look up at Connie, he has tears in his eyes.
“Now, I don’t have as many photos as Georgie does, but I have some.” He opens a manilla folder and I can’t hold back the tears. The photo on top is of Georgia in the hospital, a little me swaddled in her arms, and Constantine right beside us with a massive smile on his face.
“You were there when I was born?” I set the photo down to wipe the tears away from my eyes and he reaches a hand over mine in a soothing gesture.
“Of course I was,” he says softly. He continues on, showing me photos of my first Christmas. There’s a photo of a 10-month-old me pushing a baby carriage and Constantine right behind me, spotting me in case I fell. There’s photos of my first birthday. I'm in a high chair with cake all over, and Georgia and Constantine are standing on either side of me, also covered in cake. I laugh because in the photo Georgia is laughing. She’s happy.She was happy. I laugh again, and then choke on a cry.
“I never knew. You came around?” I shuffle through a few more photos, spotting a dark-haired boy carrying me in his arms.Matthias?I stop and pick up the photo.
“I came around as much as I could. All the big days and a lot of the not-so-big days, too.” Constantine pauses when he sees the photo I’m holding. “Matt would come with me sometimes. It was very sweet. He’d dote on you, very protective…” he trailsoff. I set the photo back down, still torn between the different versions of the man that little boy grew up to be.
It’s not hard to notice there aren’t any photos of me with Connie past the toddler stage. He has photos of me with Georgia. And some of my sporting events, and school graduations. But there’s no photos of him and me beyond the early years.
“Why did you stop?” I ask quietly. I know the answer, but I want to hear it.
He sighs before speaking. “Well, Georgie asked me to stop. I came over after work one night, and you ran into my arms and called me Dad, and after that, I wasn’t allowed to come over.”Oh, that’s not what I was expecting. I thought he’d tell me how he was busy, he had his own family to tend to, notthat.
