The price of happiness (Weekend freewrite)

marie-jay (61)in #freewrite • 6 years ago

Gene's father had said something to Gene that had wounded his pride.
‘This girl… Lucy… reminds me of your mother when she was young…fiery!’ The old man, Harold, seemed to ignore the fact that ‘the girl’ was sitting right there at the table on the porch and Lucy took no offence. On the contrary, she smiled, happy to receive such a compliment - meeting the future in-laws for the first time was no easy thing, especially after Gene had warned her his father could be quite grumpy at times.
If Mrs. Woodrow was pleased with her husband’s remark, she gave no sign, but Gene had surely caught his father’s drift - what the hell are you doing marrying such an opinionated woman? Or, to put it another way - what kind of a man are you?
They’d been together for almost a year and up to this moment he’d had no reason to suspect that Lucy would be anything other than a great wife and devoted mother to the child she was already carrying in her womb. He had not told his parents about the baby, yet, as they planned to reveal the secret at their wedding - by then the scan would reveal whether it was a boy or a girl, so they’ll know the color of the balloon they were going to bring on the dance floor for their first dance as newly-weds. He could almost hear the gasps and the cheering in the crowd.
Another reason for not telling his parents right away was his father’s tendency to be rather crude, especially after a beer or two and he was in no mood to hear jokes about keeping old Mr. Johnson busy.
Later that night, with Lucy sound asleep, Gene sat in his father’s rocking chair on the porch and thought about the old man’s words. No one would associate his Mom with the word fiery. Quite the opposite, she was the most non-conflictual woman you could imagine, always with a smile on her face.
He’d never witnessed them fighting, yet he knew what his father was alluding to - their youth, some thirty years ago. He’d heard his father referring to that period plenty of times - ‘you had such a loud mouth back then, didn’t you?’ Rhetorical question his mother never answered, but if you looked real close you’d notice a cringe in her smile.
That was in the past and none of his business…. but Lucy?

‘And this shows how many lovers, and this determines how happy you will be with your wife’. They were so smitten with each other back then that, although neither of them believed the fortune teller with the sickly parrot could predict their future, they paid the modest price to have their future revealed, neatly printed on scraps of ordinary white paper. ‘10 cents extra, if you want to keep them papers’. A phrase which soon became their private joke, which they incorporated it in every thing they did, even sex.
Yet, come to think of it - the Lucy’s paper had said ‘three lovers’ and she’d quickly brushed his questions aside.
He knew about Mark, her nerdy college sweetheart with chronical bad breath, a description which she denied. ‘He was a very smart guy, very considerate, too. No, need to be mean since it was over before I met you’.
Still, he’d been quite pissed when Lucy thought of calling him to have a look at her laptop since he was an IT guy. But Lucy did not see anything wrong with calling an ex-lover.
Whatever… Stink-breath Mark was no competition to him, but who was the third lover? What wasn’t she telling him? Was there someone much more important she didn’t want to talk about?
The trouble was that since the pregnancy, Lucy was quite moody and he didn’t want to upset her… that wouldn’t do… under his parents’ roof, too.
But, if they were to be married, he kinda needed an answer. Maybe when they go out for a walk, since he’d promised to show her his childhood haunts - that could be a good time to talk things over.

‘It's a matter of survival, survival of the fittest equals survival of the species - you cannot fault me for being a strong man!’
The talk had quickly escalated into a fight and now Lucy was crying, her back against a tree, curled in a ball, her knees drawn to her chest.
Gene blamed it on hormones, after all it was natural for him to ask a simple question about her past.
‘His name was James, but I don’t want to talk about him.’
Not the kind of answer he was expecting.
‘This is ridiculous. I have a right to know!’
Spoken like he meant it. Gene grabbed her hands to pull her closer, but dropped them as soon as she felt her flinching. And now she was crying… She shook her head when he put his hand on her hair, striking it gently, pulling the wet strands out of her eyes.
‘That’s what he used to say’, she whispered in a hoarse voice when she finally calmed down a bit.
‘I have a RIGHT to know, then he would slap me…’ More tears, more brushing him aside, more murmured protests, until she gave in.
‘It’s not good for the baby’, he said, taking her into his arms, holding her until she gave him a crooked smile and she let him kiss her. He promised he’d never ask anything about James and he’ll never hurt her again.
They were both very subdued that evening, Lucy barely spoke a few words over dinner. Harold was very quite talkative, as he explained to his son what kind of house they should be moving into and maybe it was a good idea to look for a better job before starting a family. As much as he hated being told what to do, Gene listened to the old man, as he’d always had a good head for business.
‘Maybe you should move back home, plenty of opportunities to start your own business here, son.’ Lucy made a move as if she was going to say something, then she appeared to change her mind.
Old Harold looked at his son and smiled, nodding slightly. Marlene smiled, too, but there was pity in her eyes.