Elizabeth Finn - Restoring Jordan

When our bodies have stilled and breathing calmed, he looks to my eyes. He’s still in my body, and I’m sitting limply on his lap. “I’m sorry, Adeline.”

He caresses my cheek with care and adoration. When he kisses me, it’s slow and gentle, and when he pulls away, searching my eyes, it’s in fear I’m still upset. I’m not in the least, and I shake my head, kissing him again. “It’s okay.” His eyelids flutter in relief, and his head sinks to my shoulder.

We stay sitting on the floor, listening to the sounds of our project around us, until his head lifts from my shoulder with one more gentle kiss. “We should go.” I stand as he does too, and as his seed runs down my thighs, he takes my hand and we leave together. The crew’s stares follow us as we walk by hand in hand with no regard for their presence, and once we’re back in his car he drives us to his house for the night.

“I’m sorry, was it Madeline?”

“No, Mother, it’s Adeline.”

I sit stiffly beside Jordan at our table. When we arrived, we waited at the bar for nearly thirty minutes for his parents to arrive. When they finally showed, their regard for me was absent. They didn’t even appear to notice I was the woman sitting beside their son, holding his hand. In fact, Jordan had to force the introduction upon them as they driveled on about their vacation plans. I don’t like them, and now his mother’s already managed to butcher my name. I can’t believe he’s been subjected to this treatment by them his whole life. I would never wish this on anyone. They’re a nightmare, and with every passing moment my sorrow for Jordan deepens. He looks like he’s in pain at their presence.

“So, Adeline , how is it you know our Jordan?” My jaw clenches at her possessive use of his name. Jordan belongs to me—not them. He deserves better than this, and my desire to protect him is strong.

“We met a couple months ago, Mrs. Ellinwood.” I give nothing more away, but it’s enough for her to use against him.

“A couple months? Wow. That must be some sort of record.” My face falls, but not in embarrassment. I’m livid. How dare this woman disrespect him—disrespect us. “You just seem a bit young, Madeline. How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m twenty-two, ma’am. And it’s Adeline.” My words may be respectful, but the cool tone of my voice is most definitely not.

“I would appreciate it if you could pretend to be decent, Mother.” His eyes flash with my same fury, and under the cover of the tablecloth I take his hand, and he looks to my eyes as my fingers touch his.

Being decent isn’t on her agenda though. “I’m simply saying, you and relationships don’t mix. I mean, you know that. I thought you were the content-to-be-a-bachelor type now. Not the relationship type.”

“Mother, please.” He’s warning her, and his eyes are on fire.

Warning or not, she’s not finished speaking. “Don’t get me wrong, your whoring around isn’t good for my reputation. I actually miss the days when you were married and I didn’t have to worry what you were doing with half the female population of Chicago. I liked your wife. She was a very accomplished, delightful woman, and now what… a twentysomething… I mean, what is it you actually do, Mandy?”

“It’s Adeline, Mother, and she happens to be an amazing designer at my firm.”

“Oh, calm down, son. I’m sure Mad … Adeline is an amazing decorator.”

“Designer!” He’s seething, his jaw is set, and I wonder how it is he actually managed to speak the words between his teeth that are clenched so tightly together.

“Yes, Jordan. Of course. I’m sure it’s like calling a maid a servant. Some things offend people so. One must be sensitive to others’ self-worth issues these days.”

“Ah yes, dear.” Now it’s his father’s turn to weigh in. “We mustn’t call the help a slave. Terribly tedious all these rules about the working class.” Good God almighty, were it not so damn painful a situation, I could likely laugh at them.

Our food arrives at that very moment, and looking to Jordan’s dark and vengeful eyes, I’m guessing it’s a good thing. We eat in silence and are blessedly left in peace, and as cocktails are served and as people take to the dance floor, Jordan takes my hand and pulls me out with him. I’m thankful for the distance from his parents. They are as awful as I imagined they might be, and as we move through the throngs of people I want to wrap my arms around him and pull him close. His eyes are dark and serious, and he’s not smiled since we arrived. I want to be away from this place, away from these people. They aren’t him. He doesn’t say a word as we move around the floor, and I’m afraid to say anything. His eyes are distant, and he is definitely not here with me, at least not on any emotional level.

As we take our seats once again, it’s his father’s turn to torment him. “So you know Jordan’s ex-wife cheated on him, right? It’s why he’s now divorced. Divorce is such an ugly word, you know. We’ve had to do much explaining on his behalf for that one.” I nearly spit my drink across the table at his words. Not because of the words he’s said so much as the fact he would humiliate his son in front of me. I had no idea Jordan’s ex-wife cheated on him, and while my heart breaks for the pain this must have caused him, I’m just as furious with his father for being the one to tell me.

“I’m aware he’s divorced, yes. Just like the other fifty or so odd percent of adults in this country. Not really an impeachable offense these day, but certainly a scandalous affair indeed, if I do say so myself. Oh, the horror of it all!” I’m practically shaking my finger in the air in mock-exaggerated shock and disapproval— oh the horror of it all— where the hell did that come from? I’m shocked at my rude sarcasm, adopting their snooty accent and all, but as I look to Jordan, the corners of his mouth are ever so slightly pulled up. It’s no smile, not even close, but it’s a response.

“Well, I just think it’s important to understand such things early on. Wouldn’t want to get in too deep, if you know what I mean, just to be heartbroken later.”

And that’s when Jordan hits his boiling point. “Adeline and I are leaving. Thank you for dinner. I guess I’ll see you in another few years.” I stand too as his parents stare with slack jaws and mouths hanging open. As we turn, Jordan squeezes my hand gently and then turns to them once again. “Adeline knows me better than either of you have ever cared to. She’s well aware I’m not perfect and I’m divorced, and for the better part of a decade I chose to indulge in shallow, meaningless dalliances that fed my physical needs far more than anything else. I’m ashamed of you, and quite frankly, I hold you responsible for every last emotional shortcoming I now have the pleasure of trying to undo. Good night.” We turn and walk out of the restaurant hand in hand.

When we reach the valet, he hands them his ticket, and as we wait, we stand side by side. He’s not spoken to me, and while his words may have been protective and warm, he’s cold right now. It isn’t me. He is fighting a long-waged battle in his mind that revives itself every time he’s forced to speak to them, and so I give him space.

He tips the valet and holds my hand as I climb in before he returns to the driver’s side door and pulls out into traffic.

We’re silent as he drives, and I watch him. He’s distant, and I imagine him a small boy, being subjected to their tortures. They are cruel, and oddly, I doubt they even realize it. My heart cries for the little boy inside him who was so neglected by them, abandoned to survive alone in a mansion of loneliness. No child deserves such treatment, especially not the one who would grow to be the man I fall in love with. I want to fight his battle, but of course there is no real battle to fight. The war is long over and the damage is done, and yet looking to his hardened face and cold eyes, clearly the pain is not laid to rest.