Wicked Snow

My Father, The Grinch

“Have you seen this?” my father asked, slamming two magazines on the coffee table in front of me. Kingsley had yet to arrive, so it was just the two of us in the living room.

I gazed down at the photo of Kingsley and me on one of the covers, cringing at the obvious displeasure on my face. We had just left the hotel and my expression had fallen after he had told me not to embarrass him. My lips were turned down in a frown and my eyes showed hurt. Kingsley was smiling charmingly at the camera, but it did nothing to lessen the unhappiness that I was displaying. The words underneath the photo asked, ‘Unhappy Bride?’, only bringing more attention to my frown. The other magazine cover was much the same.

I had avoided looking at the tabloids after our date, not wanting to expose myself to whatever criticism they would surely throw my way. Those covers were only proof that my assumption had been correct– the press loved to show people at their worst just to so they could sell more magazines. It didn’t matter that I had put on a smile the rest of the evening; they chose the picture that suited their narrative.

“How do you think this makes Kingsley look?” my father asked, more worried about his future business partner than his daughter.

“Like he’s not a very good fiancé,” I suggested sarcastically, not caring that it would push his buttons.

“This isn’t a joke, Grace!” he screamed, slapping his hands down on the table violently.

I flinched at his aggressive action, trained into being wary of my father's outbursts. I never used to talk back to him because I was too scared of the consequences, but my mother’s death, combined with his blackmail had made me bolder and braver. I wasn’t the same girl who used to walk around on eggshells, so careful of the words I spoke around him. I was done treating him like a wild animal, who might lash out at me if I said or did the wrong thing. That approach hadn’t worked for my mom and I knew it wouldn’t work for me either; sometimes animals just strike without cause.

So why not give him cause and save myself the trouble of always holding my tongue and never fighting back. Besides my father was so used to people putting him on a pedestal, that he didn’t seem to know what to do about my impudence. His red face and flared nostrils were a testament to how frustrated he was with my new-found backbone, and the sight was worth any consequence he might give me.

“It’s only two magazines,” I said with an eye-roll. “I think we’ll survive.” I knew if there were other ones with negative slants to our date, he would have put them all in front of me just to prove his point.

“We can’t afford any bad press,” he spat out angrily.

“Well, you know what they say, any press is good press,” I pointed out impertinently.

Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed the hair at the back of my head, pulling me up off the couch and forcing my head toward him. His face was close enough to mine that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “You need to start taking this more seriously,” he demanded, using his leverage on my hair to shake my head roughly.

“Let me go, or I call the cops on you,” I replied, feeling slightly dizzy from the jostling. My words were laced with pain as his grip on my hair pulled on my scalp, but there was no denying the conviction in my words– I wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on my threat. I was determined to end the cycle of abuse.

His eyes narrowed in fury and he kept his grip on my hair for several more seconds, before realizing that I wasn’t messing around. He let me go, but he did so slowly and reluctantly.

“If you ever lay a hand on me again, I will have you arrested,” I promised him, putting as much steel into my voice as I could.

“Nobody would believe you,” he replied with confidence, but the fact that he had let me go showed that the thought scared him.

“Maybe, but how do you think the press would react when they got ahold of the story?” I asked him. “Are you really willing to risk having your name dragged through the mud?” My father’s life seemed to revolve around his status and reputation, so if I took that all away, he would be left with nothing.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I would,” I stated with resolve. “And I should have done it a long time ago,” I added. My biggest regrets was not getting help for my mom when I had the chance. She was too scared and blinded to do it herself, but I should have been brave enough to do it for her.

His lips pursed in displeasure and his face grew even redder, but any reply he would have made was cut off when the elevator opened, and Kingsley strode in with his same two bodyguards walking behind him. The man had brought bodyguards to a Christmas dinner, like he was the bloody president of the United States or something. He couldn’t be serious with that ridiculousness, I thought as my quick-recovering father greeted him with a handshake.

“Welcome, Kingsley. Glad you could join us,” my father said with a smile as fake as his sudden politeness. He, of course, didn’t even acknowledge the bodyguards, used to ignoring the people he deemed below his standards.

“Frank,” the other man greeted him simply, not bothering with any pleasantries.

He greeted me in the same manner, to which I just gave him a nod of acknowledgement. I did, however, greet his bodyguards by meeting each of their gazes and saying, “Nice to see you again, boys.” I didn’t know their names, which I felt guilty about, but I promised to learn them as soon as I got the chance to speak to them properly.

Everyone in the room, but the bodyguards most of all, seemed surprised by my acknowledgment of the two men. After a second of their wide-eyed and caught-off-guard stares though, the younger one greeted me with a smile and a kind, “Miss. Thornton,”, while the older one, who looked to be in his early thirties, gave me a polite tip of his head.

Both my father and Kingsley looked irritated that I had greeted the people they probably deemed ‘the help’, but they could shove their holier-than-though attitude where the sun don’t shine for all I cared. The way my father treated the people who worked for him, was one of the many things I hated about him and it seemed that my future husband had the same character flaw.

“Ah, I see you’ve seen the bad press,” Kingsley said with a gesture to the magazines on the coffee table.

“Yes, we were just discussing how Grace can avoid causing such things in the future,” my father replied, as if the blame lay solely on my shoulders.

“Good,” Kingsley said with that sharp nod I was learning was his way of showing he was satisfied. “That saves me the trouble.”

The two of them were unbelievable. They were talking like I wasn’t right there in the room with them. Worse, they were talking about me like I was some silly child that needed to be educated. It was downright insulting.

“Before we eat, there are some matters about the merger I would like to discuss,” Kingsley said, continuing to ignore me.

So much for us being cordial around each other, I thought with a scoff.

“Of course,” my father replied, gesturing for Kingsley to follow him through to his office.

It was only three o’clock, so there was plenty of time before dinner, but who in their right mind would want to spend their Christmas discussing business? They were like two peas in a pod. The bodyguards stayed behind, not invited to the meeting just like me. I waited until my father had closed the office door before allowing myself to speak to them again.

“Well, isn’t this just the best Christmas ever,” I said drily as I flopped onto the couch, causing them to chuckle lightly. “Seriously though, I can’t believe Kingsley has you working on Christmas. What an ass,” I said with indignation on their behalf. Hanging out with Sarah had made me a little bit more outgoing, which gave me the confidence to talk to the two men, whereas before I would have probably just escaped to another room to avoid human interaction.

“It’s not so bad,” the older man said, but he was as unconvincing a liar as I was.

“Well, knowing my father, they’ll be in there for at least two hours,” I told them. “So, why don’t you take a seat and we can watch whatever’s on TV,” I suggested.

They looked so shocked by my suggestion that you would have thought I had told them I thought Santa Claus was real. Clearly, they weren’t used to taking it easy on the job.

“Thanks, Miss. Thornton. We really can’t do that though,” the younger one said, even though he looked extremely tempted by the offer.

“Call me, Grace,” I insisted. “What are your names?” I asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“I’m Lucas,” the younger one told me with a bright smile.

“Daniel,” the older one said with another tip of his head. He seemed to be the more reserved out of the two.

“Well, Lucas and Daniel, I’m going to watch whatever Christmas movie is on, and you two should feel free to join me when you’ve had enough of standing around waiting for their meeting to end,” I told them, turning on my father’s massive television and scrolling through Netflix to find something decent to watch.

I was about to settle on the animated version of ‘The Grinch’, but Lucas cleared his throat loudly, making me turn to him. He gave a small shake of his head, which I took to mean he wasn’t a fan of my choice. Chuckling, I continued to look for a good movie. Lucas cleared his throat again when I passed ‘Die Hard’, which, if you ask me isn’t even a Christmas movie. Still, it was a good choice, so I pressed play, much to Lucas and Daniel’s pleasure I’m sure.

Kingsley and my father stayed in the office for three hours, which meant we had time to watch the whole of ‘Die Hard’ and still start ‘The Grinch’. Even though they had obviously been watching the movie, they had stayed standing the whole time, which was downright impressive if you ask me. I hadn’t ever stood for that long in my life. Despite their initial reluctance to watch the animated movie, Lucas and Daniel had both let out quiet laughter within a few minutes of it starting.

Their demeanor changed instantly when the door to my father’s office opened though. They straightened their backs and the smiles on their faces disappeared as if they were never even there. I turned off the TV, hoping we could finally sit down and eat dinner because I was starving. Thankfully, my father led Kingsley to the dining room, so my wish for food would soon be granted.

Lucas and Daniel stood behind and on either side of Kingsley while we ate, which I found completely ridiculous and awkward. It was almost as bad as being served dinner by a woman wearing a maid’s uniform. It was by far the weirdest Christmas dinner I had ever had. I was used to eating leftovers from Christmas lunch on the couch with my mom, while we watched holiday movies. That year though, the dinner was not only pretentious, but also incredibly boring. Not once was I included in the conversation. My father and Kingsley continued to talk business at the table, so I eventually tuned out their talking and just focused on the delicious food in front of me.

At the end of the meal, done with being a third wheel, I only stayed long enough to hand Kingsley the contract my lawyer had managed to draw up, asking him to sign it before the wedding on Sunday. It was a brief document, but it had what I needed; an agreement that the marriage would end in exactly two years and the assurance that he wouldn't interfere with my art school being the two most important clauses.

“I’ll look through it, but there shouldn’t be any issues,” he told me. “We can sign it before the ceremony on Sunday.”

“Great,” I replied and without further ado, I shrugged on my dark green coat and headed to the elevator, only pausing long enough to whisper a goodbye to Lucas and Daniel. They each gave me a nod as I walked past them, which was the most I could expect from them since Kingsley was in the room watching me leave.

On the walk back to my hotel, I saw a homeless man outside an open Starbucks, and knowing it was what my mom would have done, I went into the coffee shop and bought a warm meal and drink for him. His grateful smile and exclaimed thanks, was all I needed to lift my mood after the Christmas dinner from hell. I may have had a terrible two weeks, but there was still so much in my life to be grateful for. I kept that in mind as I walked up to my room, and that night was the first night after my mom’s passing that I didn’t cry myself to sleep.