Julius Caesar

"He wants to see Augusta, Ceasar. It's not fair-" Samara tells me for the hundredth time today as I take out the groceries from the car's back seat and resolutely walk by her, ignoring her.

I fish for the front door's keys from my jeans' pockets as Samara follows me.

"Julius Ceasar Alexander!" She presses and I glance at her angry face over my shoulder. She has a hand on her h.i.p.s with Augusta in her other arm, her floral skirt fluttering against her shins from the cold breeze.

I unlock the door and we both enter, she with a scowl and I with an annoyed look.

"He will see her-"

"What part of 'I-don't-want-him-to′ don't you understand?" I finally say exasperatedly, swinging the door shut with a back-kick.

"It's almost been a month Julius! He keeps calling every day to make sure she's alright. He wants to see her!" The weak sun rays streaming from the huge window, give her wide, accusing eyes, a subtle glow.

I do a double-take and narrow my eyes at her. "You talk every day?" I then scoff and talk to the ceiling. "Didn't know my wife and daddy were best mates!"

"Don't be ridiculous, he's your father."

I drop the grocery bags in the middle of the reception and walk past her to the kitchen. She leaves Augusta who was fast asleep in a baby-pink blanket on the sofa and follows me, still apparently having a lot to say.

I sigh, pull the fridge's door open, and reach for the milk carton. I open it and she stops me.

"Drink from a glass, Julius-" She warns but I chug down what remains of it while locking her eyes just to infuriate her.

She purses her lips and I chuckle at her reaction before aiming at the dustbin to throw it. It gets right in.

"What will I tell him next time he calls, huh? He wants to see his granddaughter and-uh-" She then suddenly pauses and clears her throat.

I cross my arms over my c.h.e.s.t as she backs away against the marble counter. I notice a knife where she was going to plant her right hand, so I quickly reach for it as she inhales sharply at my sudden proximity.

She rolls her eyes. "I already knew the knife was there-"

"Sure, sure...keep going. Continue talking nonsense I'm not changing my mind about. I'm all ears, darling-" I say, leaning against the kitchen's doorcase and balancing the knife on my index finger.

"He wants to see you." Samara sighs, pinching her nose.

"You act like you haven't witnessed what happened to every one of us because of his shit-" I say sternly, holding the knife properly now.

"The past-"

I groan, knowing what she'll say and almost immediately Augusta starts wailing.

"See what've you done?!" Samara starts and my eyes widen.

"Me?" I feign surprise. "I surely was the one ranting like a lunatic-"

"I hate you!" She says between her teeth, stomping out of the kitchen and purposefully bumping into me.

I stagger a little under the force of her push and suppress a smile.

"Bullshit, you love me!" I yell after her.

That's how our conversations are like ever since Augusta was born. She is almost always stressed, always complaining about something or the other, but I understand- she is a new mother after all.

I occasionally offer to help her with Augusta when I grew some balls and wasn't afraid of holding her fragile, feather-light being in my arms. I even used to stay up in the middle of the night, holding her to me as she b.r.e.a.s.tfed Augusta.

It is difficult. And hell, it has only been three weeks.

I push myself off the doorcase and walk to Samara who's standing in the middle of the living room, rocking a-now-calm Augusta in her arms. She notices me approach her and ignores me.

I collapse on the sofa where I can watch her, spread my legs in front of me, tilt my head, and give her a lopsided smile.

She glances at me. "I'm angry. You're not supposed to smile."

"I don't see you angry often-"

She rolls her eyes. "You wouldn't want to-"

"I don't give you the reason to-"

"Yeah right. The milk carton?"

"There's no way this is going to change," I point out.

"What about going out without a coat? In the coldest of days-" She pauses to glance at Augusta who shifts between her arms before looking at me with a displeased look and whispering fiercely. "The coldest of days!"

"This shouldn't bother you. I'm a grownup man."

"No, you will end up catching pneumonia-" She glares. "Then who'll care for you when I'm busy with Gusta?"

I stare at her for a while, amazed at how that manages to vex her so much. I sigh. "You just get bothered by everything. Try relaxing, sweetheart."

"Don't tell me-" She starts and the doorbell rings.

I quickly glance at the door, slowly sitting up straight. I look at Samara who looks just as clueless.

"Did you invite anyone over?" I ask her curiously and she shakes her head slowly.

"I'll go check-" She then says and I stop her.

"Of course not. Stay here."

I approach the door and look through the magic eye to find a prestigious-looking, blonde lady, standing with a red bag on her forearm, and a- uh- poodle?

I bounce away from the door to find Samara behind me.

"I think it's one of your lady friends."

"Lady friends?" She makes a face and I shrug before she decides to check for herself, handing me Augusta.

"Shit!" She then whispers roughly and I fling my gun out from my back pocket. She notices it and shakes her head vigorously. "Shit, Julius, no. It's not like this. It's my mother!"

"It's your mother?" I repeat, shocked. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Oh my God, I forgot!" She gasps, biting her lower lip and staggering toward the door. "She always comes to check up on me every Christmas Eve!"

"Does she even know I exist?" I ask a supposedly easy question as the doorbell rings again.

Samara looks really nervous and fumbles with her fingers. "No. I just managed to tell her that I moved out."

"Well, shit!"

"Shit, indeed-"

"Just open the door."

"What will I tell her?!" She freaks out and I scoff.

"I'll take the matter in my hands-"

Samara gulps before she hesitantly and very slowly opens the door with a pressed smile. Samara is still standing in the doorway, but I can hear her mother's m.a.t.u.r.e, melodic voice come from behind it.

"-it's been so long!" She speaks with a strong French accent, repulsively reminding me of Lucien.

"Yes, Mama, please come in."

"You haven't changed a bit-"

Samara laughs nervously and I stand back ready to meet her.

She steps in with her white pumps, paired with a smart, white pantsuit, and her poodle's leash in her left, red-gloved hand. She settles her little, red bag on the hanger next to the door before she turns to me, taking off her sunglasses in slow elegance and pushing it over her wave of blond hair.

Her red-stained lips part on seeing me, her blue eyes- identical to Samara's- widening a bit.

I haven't even shaved, I remember as I absently touch my chin.

Samara is standing next to me, resting a hand on my right arm as I awkwardly adjust Augusta on my left one.

The silence that fell on us seemed endless, only interrupted by a single bark coming from the neatly-groomed poodle, finally indicating- show time.

I pull on my most charming smile, put out a hand, and with my impeccable, English accent I tell her- "Good afternoon, ma'am. I am Julius Caesar, your beloved daughter's husband and this is Augusta, our first daughter and essentially your first granddaughter too."

She closes her mouth and glances sharply at Samara before looking back at me with a goosebump-inducing glare. She eyes me up and down and scowls.

Well, I'm just wearing jeans, a grey shirt, and a navy-blue flannel topped with a denim jacket. I mean, forgive me, I was going out for groceries, I needn't look dashing.

"Hold my poodle-" She then tells me, not even glancing in my direction before turning to her daughter. My reflexes help me catch the leash she thrusts in my c.h.e.s.t as I tighten my hold around Augusta.

"We need to talk. Now-" She then glances at me. "Alone."

She walks past us and enters the nearest room- the dining room. Samara and I look at each other with wide eyes, not knowing what to expect. Samara's about to leave but I gently touch her wrist, urging her close to me and hastily pressing a kiss to her rose petals for lips.

She blushes fiercely, mouths 'I love you' before following her mother for what appears to be a heated conversation.

With Augusta in a hand and the hyper, barking poodle in the other, I decide to go for a walk to give them the space they need. And you might not believe it, but the moment I step into the park I got so used to (yes, that same park you've been reading about, Sharon), I bump into a person I almost forgot existed.

"What the hell-?", and then recognition slowly floods his face before he whispers in disbelief. "Romeo?"

Samara's POV.

Mama's back is facing me as she holds onto a chair for dear life.

I gulp, stand straighter, and reach for her shoulder. She turns to me on my touch and looks at me with tear-filled, accusatory eyes. My heart decides to run a marathon with my rushing thoughts, and I wonder, I wonder who will win- a heart tender for a missed mother or a brain poisoned with an ugly truth?

"Mama-?"

"I don't feel as bad as I look-" She tells me, wiping carefully at her eyes with a satin handkerchief. "It's okay-it's okay-"

Her face is red from all the thoughts filling and pressurizing her head and her eyes are swollen from all the unshed tears. I tilt my head and sigh heavily.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words hang in the air between us and I realize it feels pathetic to apologize for something I love- someone I love and would die for. It's stupid to apologize for a beautiful daughter. It's stupid not wanting to just laugh at her lost eyes.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I'm not sorry for any decision I've taken. I love Julius-"

"It's just that-" She starts, sniffing and pacing around, her right, still-gloved hand on her h.i.p.s. "You chose him...him over all the French boys I proposed-"

"You just said it, Mama-" I say, almost rolling my eyes at how ridiculous she sounds. "French boys. Julius is a man. An amazing one, actually-" I say, anger slithering its way to my throat, tightening and tightening my voice. I clear my throat.

"I know nothing about you apparently-" She catches me off guard with her tone's sharpness and I roll my eyes.

"It's not like you wanted to."

I almost hear Mama stop breathing. "I never wanted to interfere. I thought you were content with being...alone-"

"Bullshit, Mama-" I say, hurt by her excuse. "No one is ever content with being alone. No one. Those who say they are- they're lying!" I pause to catch my breath. "Don't you say that. Don't you convince yourself that leaving me- like this... alone...with Papa or-or Amanda was for my contention."

Mama's shoulders slump and the colour leaves her face. "I thought you loved your father."

"A murderer!" I burst and Mama stares at me in shock. "A murderer who was in love with you. So in love, that he had no problem driving drunk to kill himself and his daughter. I became blind, Mama! I was blind and all you took care of was if your gloves matched your poodle's leash! How would you know me?!" I look away, my hands shaking with the anger flooding away from them.

And it's true. She's always busy being famous and making money, being the successful fashion designer she is.

"Listen-" She starts, gulping and looking down.

"Why did you divorce Papa?" I ask her mercilessly and she brings her hands to her quivering lips.

"Samara, please."

"No, no, and don't you make that face like it's all f.u.c.k.i.n.g stupid and I'm just dramatizing this!" I stare dead in her eyes. "There's no space in my life for more of your intricate lies."

"Samara, you wouldn't understand-"

"I would!" I say, rolling my hands into fists. "I'd understand you leaving me with him because you knew he was a murderer. And while you were disgusted by him and didn't want anything to do with him...oh, yes, even your own daughter, he was in love with you." I pause and examine the guilty look she's wearing.

"And even though he had the power to kill you because you knew of his dirty truth, he never touched a hair of yours-" I continue. "And you just- you just fled!" I move my arms around, trying to emphasize how pathetic this all is. "And what did you do when you knew your daughter lost her vision, huh? What did you do?!"

"Samara, dear-"

"You left me your phone number!" I yell at her, no longer able to carry the truth poisoning my soul. "And what did you do when my f.u.c.k.i.n.g father died? What did you do?!"

"I'm sorry-" She starts sobbing and I look at her in disgust.

"You got me Danielle, Mama. A stranger. And it was mere luck that she didn't kill me in the middle of the night when I couldn't see shit to defend myself-" I pant, running my fingers in my hair. "So don't you come here and tell me how you don't know me. Don't you tell me you're not happy with what I've chosen for myself. Don't act like you've even tried to choose anything for me."

Mama's hands drop from her mouth to her c.h.e.s.t as tears flow down her eyes. "Baby, sorry-"

"Your sorry can't fix what's been broken."

"What- what do you want me to do?" She asks breathlessly, choking on her tears.

"Maybe like you always do? Act too busy for your daughter. Leave?" My eyes water.

"You have no clue-" Mama approaches me and locks my eyes, shaking her head. "You haven't the slightest clue what happened to me. I was dragged into and out of hell with your father. It was just-" She waves her hands and breathes out through her mouth. "-it was tempting to completely cut him out of my life-"

"You left me-"

"I left you because I hated you-" She spits out and my heart is still beating the same. "I hated that you had to be there, a reminder to the greatest mistake of my life. And I know- it was selfish, but honey, I was devastated."

I look away disgusted by her audacity to say all this just like that.

"He wanted me to join him-" She enunciated and I stare at her in disbelief. "He'd make me watch him torture kids. Kids, Samara! And oh-" She pauses to wipe some more tears. "Those poor little boys. Lucien and Esteban-"

"Wait-" I quickly stop her with a curious look on my face. "How do you know their real names?"

"Your father trusted me. He talked non-stop about his wicked plans- the deep web and I'd have to listen-" She says. "I'd have to listen or I was as good as dead. Or at least that was what I thought. Your father was one sick bastard. His death is a blessing from God-"

"That doesn't explain why you didn't come for me when he died-" I tell her, pursing my lips, as she blinks at the ceiling, her hands on her neck.

"It doesn't, baby. I don't think anything will-" She says, shaking her head.

"Wow." I look at her not surprised

"Baby, I ruined your life."

"No, you didn't," I snap. "You don't hold that kind of power."

"I'm glad-" She says and I scoff. "I'm glad you found your happiness through it all." She frowns. "Even after all what you must've been through. I'm glad." She then forces a smile on her lips. "I'd like to talk to Julian-"

"Julius."

"Julius-" She repeats slowly, not daring to look me in the eyes. "I'd love to look at my- my granddaughter. And your wedding pictures. And maybe celebrate Christmas with you?"

I watch her try to be nice and my heart gets stuck in a dilemma. Should I believe her and let her in? After all, I've witnessed what Papa was capable of- it couldn't have been easy for her. Or should I just hold a grudge against her for not taking me away from him and protecting my innocence?

"Please, Samara-" She begs, her eyes red-brimmed and bright.

"It just occurs to me that-" I say faintly. "That if I hadn't confronted you, this would've never happened. If I hadn't told you that I know the truth, nothing would've changed. I mean-" I divert my gaze to her. "I mean, what do you think?"

"I was protecting you-" She tries to say. "The truth would've hurt you. You loved your father. I couldn't tell you-"

"Yeah, so you leave me with a madman. Yeah, yeah, some protection you're talking about-" I cross my arms across my c.h.e.s.t.

"No-" She breathes out. "I always called you. When your father wasn't with you, Amanda was there for you-"

"Until she decided to pass on her job to Danielle, right? I mean, she must've gotten bored of taking care of an incapable, twenty-three-year-old! Why haven't I considered that? I mean hell, her own mother is bored-"

"Samara, never!"

"Your actions spoke volumes, Mama!" And I wonder why do I even bother. It's all in the bloody past.

"Samara, you were soft-" She says, her hands shaking. "I knew you wouldn't handle a truth like this-" She then looks at me dolefully. "I just don't want what we have to go down the drain. I don't want to lose you."

"You lost me the moment you became a liar in my eyes-"

"Then-then let us forget, yes?" She sniffs. "Let's throw this all behind our backs. Let's start a new life. I can- I can move here. I'll always be there for you. I promise-"

"It's a little too late-" I sniff. "You weren't there when I needed you the most. And now I've got a beautiful family that I plan on protecting at any cost. I have a daughter whom I'll always love and take care of."

"But what about me?" She says, eyes tearing up. "I need you-" It comes out more like a question.

"No, you need your fame, work, and money-" I raise my eyebrows. "You're just feeling bad."

"I'm not going back to Paris. I promise-"

"We'll see, Mama."

"I'm your mother."

"Look-" I tell her firmly, dodging her hand that wanted to find my arm. "I'm not wasting more time on this, so let me tell you what you'll do. You'll be nice to my husband, chatter a little, hold Augusta once or twice, then leave. Leave like you've done every time. And then-" I raise a brow. "And then, we'll see about your 'promise'."

Mama gulps, a hand on her heart, but nods slowly.

"May I use the washroom, please?" She then asks and I press a smile.

"You're most welcome."

I then lead her to the washroom, ignoring her over-shoulder glances. She enters the washroom and almost immediately a wide-eyed Julius opens the front door with a wildly barking poodle in one hand and a wailing Augusta in the other.

I grin.