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CHAPTER TWO: - HIGH SCHOOL.

“Pancakes on their way…,” Clarisse fiddled with a pair of tongs, tossing warm pancakes on Sam’s plate. “…yay! Finish it, quickly, we’re going to Central Park.”

“No…,” Sam protested, “… I want to watch a movie.”

“No movie sweetheart,” Clarisse said.

She can’t afford to take Sam to the movies – Raymond would.

Sam’s face fell in disappointment. He grumbled something and got engrossed in the pancake. Clarisse got herself a bowl of cereal and checked her phone.

‘TONIGHT, AT MY PENTHOUSE. YOU COMING?’ Wichita’s text was still flashing on the screen.

‘CAN’T SAY FOR SURE. GOTTA TAKE SAM OUT.’ she doodled around the send button. What am I doing? She asked herself. She was showing reluctance about meeting up with Wichita for the first time since they had met.

Clarisse erased the message and typed again, ‘CENTRAL PARK, TODAY AT NOON?’ and hit send.

The phone beeped shortly, ‘SORRY. CAN’T MAKE IT. DAD IS IN THE CITY.’ Wichita replied.

‘I’LL TRY TO SEE YOU TONIGHT.’ Clarisse wrote back.

Clarisse finished her cereal in haste, the anxiety building up in her smothered the appetite she had. She glanced briefly at Sam. He was still so much filled with his amusement about the pancakes he'd just had.

"Alright, buddy..." She spoke, "..., I want to see you ready and clean when I get back, I'm going to change."

"Yes, mom." Sam said without looking up at her.

Clarisse sat on a bench in Central Park. She bit her lower lip and reluctantly considered the thought of texting Eric, who was in the city for the weekend. She hadn’t seen him since the senior prom when he left her alone to raise a son. Now, he wants to see Sam. It took a lot of energy and courage emotionally to face Eric again after everything that had happened. After a decade of vulnerability.

She didn't seem to bother with a little act of audacity and called him…

And he picked up, “I knew you would call.”

“I am at Central Park with our son - ”

“Clarisse, did you tell him?” Eric asked.

“Well, I don’t know Eric. It’s too much for him to contain…,” she paused to look over at Sam who was on the slide brimming with joy.

“I need to clear out some things with you first, Eric.” She said sharply.

“Look, Clarisse, I didn’t know, okay. You can’t blame me – ”

“Let's see to that when you get here. I am not even sure if I should’ve called you Eric.” She exploded.

“Fine. Fine, all right I’ll be there.” And he hung up.

She grabbed her head and brushed her fingers in her hair, putting them behind her ear. “Goddamn, this curly hair.” She muttered.

She propped her chin on her palm and her legs shook nervously. She was preparing herself to face Eric calmly and be firm. She did not want an emotional breakdown, not here, at least in front of her son.

She clenched her jaw and relaxed it, gasping for deep breath and waiting impatiently for Eric, hoping he would at least drop her back to her place.

Clarisse’s mind wasn’t good at relaxation, mulling over all the prospects of what might take place, foreseeing a reconciliation with her-once-recklessly in-love-with-high-school boyfriend. And matter-of-factly, with whom she had a child. She made herself a promise not to be blown away by the wave of Eric’s aura. She owed herself this promise after all she had to endure.

Streaks of black cars drove in outside the gates, all adhering to a black limousine. Eric walked out of his car - his solemn stride like he always had it in him - and a few men rushed out of their car to attend him. He raised his hand and made a condescending gesture, and the men stopped where they were.

He’s gotten taller by a few inches since high school. His round childish face now has a sharp jawline. And his physique was only a gangly stature once, but now he is a frame of robust muscle and bones.

Clarisse visualised the set of abs beneath his lavender silk shirt. Also, she rolled her eyes over him. Nothing had changed him, she thought. The arrogance, the stubborn gist in his eyes, everything the same. Only he had a lavished suit which added a measly amount of gentleman decency to his character. Although he was never out of style, as Clarisse recalled. He’s wearing a grey over-coat above his expensive navy blue three-piece suit, and a brown muffler around his neck.

Clarisse, be cool, don’t lose the chill. Remember the jerk he’s been to you. She thought.

Eric strode towards Clarisse as he recognised her in the midst of the crowd. People around greeted Eric with a smile, some were even slightly bowing their heads.

“Always royalty.” Clarisse muttered.

Her gritted teeth clearly stated her annoyance.

Eric responded with a nod to the people who had come to greet him. He walked up to Clarisse and opened his arms expecting a hug, but Clarisse put her hand against his chest, firmly pushing him away, Eric’s mouth twisted and his eyebrows raised.

“What? No hugs after a decade of separation,” he said.

“I apologise your highness if I gave you the impression.” She snapped.

“Oh…, the tongue never got blunt, I suppose.”

And they both laughed a little in the nostalgic breeze.

“That’s your son…,” Clarisse, pointing Eric in Sam’s direction. “He resembles you, mostly in looks. Thank God inherited my intellect.” She said.

Eric paced out from what Clarisse had just said and, with a whole-hearted smile, gazed at his son.

“Let me take care of him?” He asked, still engrossed in the sight of Sam on the swings laughing with other children.

“You are irresponsible. It’s obvious, Eric.” Clarisse sighed, “since when did you get so fond of politics?”

Eric looked back at his men. “ A lot has changed since father’s death,” he chuckled.