The Farwells
The clanking of plates and the barely-there radio tunes filled the heavy silence in the room. Hugo stood on a ladder, reaching up to unhook the decorations of storks and baby carriages. He wondered just how badly a fall from this height would really be.
“Hugo darling, can you help me with putting away these dishes?” Rose-Marie’s voice rattled the air and shook Hugo back to reality . He threw a stern hand out to balance himself down the rungs. Catching a fainting glance at the shiny gold ring on his left hand as he made his way into the kitchen. Hugo always hated the kitchen, it was said to be modern, some new art deco fad had taken over 1934. They had bought one of those new house lots from the paper but the world could never be modern enough for Hugo.
As he rounded the corner, he saw his wife with her big swollen belly. 5 months already, or at least that is what the doctor suspects, which means it had been 4 months since Hugo couldn’t think straight.
“Ah good, here take these, they need to go on top of that shelf,” Rosie staggered as she handed Hugo 3 big clean pots. Hugo put them away without a word and turned to go back to his duty of taking all the pink little streamers down from the hard white walls he had paid so much for.
“Hugo? Why can’t you just enjoy this? You said you would”
Hugo stopped by the door frame, “Enjoy, this? Apparently I’m not a good as an actor as I thought I was. My usual parade of tricks seemed to get all of my energy, apologies that this was a bit too much for me today” He turned around, putting his hands in his pocket as he leaned against the wood frame of the kitchen. He blew the long brown hair, that had snuck out of the gelled-do from that morning out of his face, “Rosie. This is a circus at this point—we are a circus,”
“But, no one knows!-”
“That’s not the right answer here!” Hugo almost immediately regretted raising his voice, he never did yell at Rosie, not even when she had first told him those 4 months ago. But his face held stern.
“Hugo, this is what we always wanted. Look around. We’re married—finally were married! We have a house - we even have a god awful white picket fence. And now a baby. Please, Hugo, let's just take what we have,” Rosie argued as she held onto her stomach.
“This” Hugo motioned to Rosie and her action, “isn’t mine. Someone else already took what I had and worse, you just let him!” Hugo noticed that Rose-Marie flinched at those last few words. “Perhaps he didn’t. But you told me—” Hugo started pacing around the kitchen table, facing away from Rosie as he lost himself, “ I’m telling you Rosie one day, oh one day! Oh Thomas! I swear to God that son of a bitch!—”
“Evie!”
Hugo slammed his palm down on the table. His eyes were wide as saucers and his shoulders clenched up as he slowly, meticulously, turned and looked up at Rose-Marie.
“How dare you...” he sputtered out, voice cracking. He pointed a finger towards Rose-Marie, “Don’t you ever. Ever! Call me that.” Rose-Marie held her hands against her chest and Hugo’s unblinking stare. He held her gaze for a moment longer before relaxing his shoulders and walking out of the kitchen.
As he stomped up the stairs, he heard Rosie crying. Every bone in his body wanted to go back and hold her, to tell her everything was okay but all the logic he possessed pushed those feelings down as he slammed the door of the bedroom.
Hugo started to undress from the monkey suit Rosie had picked out for him that morning. He always hated anything other than blue and black and this pale flamingo and tan combo only brought back those horrible feelings of being in a cage. He removed his jacket, then his tie, then his shirt but there was one thing left on his torso. Oh how he could barely stand that thing. The way it tightened around his chest and dug into his skin so harshly it left almost a permanent mark around his ribcage. But it was either the mark or the two other reminders that this life he seemed to be living is just a house of cards. He was startled from thought as he felt wet on his cheeks. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped.
Men don’t cry, Evie.
Hugo grabbed two towels for his shower. He threw one over the rung of the shower curtain and the other over the adjacent mirror, covering it completely before finally removing the rest of his clothing and getting into the shower. The hot water felt like some relief against his tense muscles. Why was he so angry? Everything he could have wanted was all right here.
Father.
He had already accepted he would never hear those words in reference to himself but now that it was here, all he could think of was how hard they slashed into his heart.
The shower was always a good place to think for Hugo, it helped distract from the reality of his own body. He thought about how his plan needed to form soon but right now it seemed like even that was a ridiculous thought. He thought about how easy it would be to let blood wash down the drain, he had seen it before many times. And he thought about Rosie. How out of all people, the only one who really knew him, gave in to someone else. Everything he could’ve ever wanted was right here but even she left him, even if it was for a moment, for someone more ‘real’. Someone who could give her all those things so simply, all those things he prayed to God for night after night.
God.
What a funny idea to him. This God that he prays to with his wife every Sunday in the big church built for His name. How many Sunday’s has Hugo given up for Him? When Hugo had asked for the gift of a child, he didn’t mean like this. This wasn’t a gift from any God, no matter how much Rosie said so. This was another reminder, just like the indent circling his chest.
Hugo hadn’t talked to Rosie since that day. They had only exchanged glances and fell asleep in separate rooms. It had been just over a day and it already started to feel so lonely. The room full of men in their suits talking about expenses and cars usually would brighten up Hugo’s dreary mood but today it just felt like pretend.
“Mr. Farwell?” Hugo jumped at the question and searched for its origin. Hugo’s eyes fell upon Thomas as the man chuckled, “Ha, sorry there buddy but we need those papers.” Hugo stared at him, holding his chin in his hand. This guy has the audacity to call him buddy.
Hugo managed to crack a fake smile but his words still dripped in acid as he answered, “Sorry bud.” Hugo threw an envelope at Thomas a little too hard as it slid down from the table where they were all seated and rocketed to the floor.
“Whoops. I never was good at sports ya know,” Hugo joked as he sat back down. The room didn’t seem to notice the tension in between his actions and the meeting kept going on.
Hugo noticed all the little tiny mannerisms they all did seemingly so naturally. The way his boss would puff out his chest and fill the room with his presence and how everyone else did too just with some more self remorse. The way they crossed their legs, not in the same manner Rosie would, but rather leaving that triangle of space, creating a four with the two limbs.
Remembering Rosie pained Hugo, but she was his safe space and there could be no helping in the way he thought of her deep within him, that he knew for certain.
So many other things though are not yet known. Perhaps they were already set and Hugo just had to find it. But this thought only pained him further for some reason.
Looking back around the room he pondered what these men must look like in their homes. Their wives tending to the dinner as they run around with their children, playing like when they were once a boy. What a dream they must all be living. Shouldn’t he also find that dream for himself? Rosie was right, “Why can’t you just enjoy this?”
Thomas got up again and Hugo barely managed to look up at the man before he clasped his hands together for an announcement. Hugo felt like he did not hear the words but rather just saw Thomas mouth them. The only thing he could hear was the raging ringing banging around his ears. Partner . Thomas was up for Partner? No, he got Partner. Thomas, the man who sat at the desk outside of Hugo’s office, was now sat by his side. He was too close, he had already been too close actually. What is this obsession with Hugo’s life he must have to not only invade his wife but also Hugo’s position, no, affirmation of doggy-dog hierarchy in the company. Oh how tall the building seems at this very moment.
The wall was dark, since he got home Hugo had gone into the spare bedroom and sat on the floor. He had not turned on the lights and now as the sun was setting, the room faded more and more. Unopened sample cans of paint and packages of baby furniture sat beside his lump of a body.
“Hugo?”
The words pierced the thick air of the nursery. But at the same time the voice was so warm and pleasant to his ears, he could almost let out a sigh of relief.
“Hugo. I need to tell you something,” Rosie leaned against the door, biting her lip nervously. “I don’t know how to say it but please just listen.”
Hugo sat so very still for a moment then turned on his hand to face her. As she stood in the doorway, the light of the hall radiated behind her. She was so soft and beautiful, it made his heart skip a beat. He was ready to listen. Anything she had to say, he would accept. He wanted to, no needed to accept it. Yes Rosie, the answer is yes whatever it is. I love our family, I already know that I just need a way to tell you. I just need to—
She swayed and then broke down in tears, “Know I lied not for him, but for you. Everything I have ever done was always for you Ev—Hugo.” Her eyes opened widely and she fell to her knees, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Hugo rushed over to her and held her for the first time in days. “No matter Rose-Marie, just tell me.”
“I never said yes Hugo.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hugo, Thomas is a bad man and I would never let him. He let himself. Please don’t make me say more than that.”
Rosie looked up at him finally. Her eyes were red and puffy already. Hugo knew she would put cucumbers on them the next day and not allow him to come in and see her in such a state. But Hugo would sneak in anyways and eat the cucumbers one by one; that always made Rosie laugh.
“Rosie..” Hugo held her closer, “You…”
Rosie didn’t let his thoughts continue.
“Hugo don’t be mad please. Imagine I told you then. I know you. You’re so brash. You would fight him wouldn’t you? Go fight him and be arrested or such and then what? What happenes in the first strip search? Or after? Don’t be mad.”
He shook his head at the idea. He was far from mad. A weird relief that was filled with even more distraught and disgust.
“No matter with that Rosie. He is not our concern, he is and always will be nothing. Don’t you worry the world will see it. I’ve sworn it and I swear it again.” Hugo’s eyes held stern and unmoving. These were not the eyes of the mad but the determined. Rosie held his deep brown eyes with her glassy blue ones a moment before burying her face in his chest. Hugo sat on the floor of the nursery stroking her long blonde hair and whispering ‘I love yous’. The light of the hall creeped in on both of them now as they sat.
~
“Congrats old man! I heard Rosie had her baby!”
Hugo turned around to face the voice of his boss. The two men stood leisurely side by side by the punch bowl watching the children play in the backyard of the grand colonial house.
“Mr. Weaving! Thank you.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Her name is Penny,” Hugo smiled and kept his eyes straight, the kids had seemed to find a gopher hole and were sticking tree branches as far as they would go into it, maybe hoping something would pop its head out and reveal itself.
“Oh… well then, just like her father then, a trupenny.” Mr. Weaving knocked his elbow into Hugo and lowered his voice, “Unlike some that used to be around.”
Hugo raised a quick brow before catching on, “You mean.”
“Let’s not talk about the details here. Too gruesome for a party, dontcha think? Shame. He was a bright young boy, I don’t think any of us could have seen that one coming—neither did the people on the street! Ha, lucky he didn’t survive, he woulda had to pay for all those shoe shines and dry cleaning with that mess he made and on my company property, with a million other high-rises around tow—,” Mr. Weaving caught himself and rubbed his shiny bald capped head. He cleared his throat, his hearty mustache moving in suit, “But you know, horrible thing for such a young man to do, huh Hugo?”
“Yes, what a pity that poor Thomas. I wouldn’t want to be in his wife’s shoes right now and leaving you with that position to fill. Selfish if you ask me, I would never abandon my family like that.” Hugo shook his head as he took another sip of his drink.
“Yeah, hardly a man I say,” Mr. Weaving copied and took a long drag of his cigarette. I got a new man already though, should come in on the 17th, you only got one more week fillin in his shoes.”
Hugo laughed “Ain’t no problem fillin’ in those shoes Mr.Weaving, don't you worry ’bout that.” The fatter man looked over at Hugo and chortled at the remark. He stared at Hugo for a second more.
Mr. Weaving glanced over, “Now don’t take this the wrong way Mr. Farwell.”
Hugo’s breath stopped for a moment.
“Anyone ever tell ya you got nice eyes? They’re so… glassy”
Hugo chuckled, “No sir, they haven’t.”