Begin Again: Chapter 1

“I have found your fiancée!” 

Ellen DeGeneres’ eyebrows rises up high hearing her mother’s exclamation. One of her hands grabs the phone that is placed between her ear and her shoulder before. “One second, Mom,” she says quickly. She gives a signal to her sous chef, instructing him to take over. Then she finally walks out of the busy kitchen towards her own private office. 

Half a minute later she’s already sitting behind her neat working desk. She brings her phone to her ear again. “Well, what was that you were saying?” 

“I have found your fiancée!” her mom repeats it with an even more vigorous voice.

“See, we’ve got 2 problems here,” Ellen says, making a V sign with her fingers even though her mom can’t possibly see her. “One, I didn’t know she was missing. Two, I also didn’t know I have a girlfriend, let alone a fiancée.” 

“Yes! Yes, you do. I just never told you all this time,” her mom says nonchalantly. 

Ellen shuts her eyes and sighs. “Mom, where are you now? Weren’t you planning to go to your friend’s wedding tonight?” 

“Her son’s wedding,” Betty corrects her daughter. “And your fiancée is here. So get your ass down here right now.” 

“Why are we even having this conversation? Is it because of Audrey?” 

“Who?”

“Audrey Hill. Tall, gorgeous, red-head, green eyes. You know her. I just introduced her to you yesterday.” 

Audrey is a beautiful model who is also Ellen’s close friend. She’s a fun friend, always willing to go with Ellen to myriad events that she has to attend. Of course Ellen realizes that Audrey is happy to be her constant ‘one-night-date’ because she wants to expand her connections range. Ellen is the executive chef of Ramses, a Michelin-starred restaurant in New York City, so it goes without saying that she knows a lot of people that can help Audrey build her career. They’re very close, but only as friends. Or so it seems to Ellen, and at least for now. 

It is not Ellen's custom to introduce girls that happen to be close to her to her family. She absolutely also wasn’t meaning to introduce Audrey, but yesterday she came to see her at the Ramses when her mom was also there, so she had no choice. 

“Oh, her,” her mom says on the other end. 

“Yes, Mom. Her.” 

“What about her?”

“Well, is she the reason that makes you think that I already have a fiancée?” 

“Of course not,” her mom quickly denies. “Wait, are you serious about her? With her?” 

Ellen smiles. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m going to marry her eventually,” she jokes.

“Well, get that idea out of your head because you are already engaged to another girl,” her mom says. “And, seriously, get your ass down here immediately. Do you really have the heart to see your old and weak mother taking the subway to get home?” 

Betty DeGeneres is old. But she is far from weak. She is still very healthy, very active, very independent, and Ellen knows very well that her brain is still as sharp as her knives back in the kitchen.

“Didn’t you go there with your friend earlier? Won’t she drive you back home?”

“I don’t want to trouble her. You’re my daughter, so I actually have every right to trouble you.”

Ellen laughs. “I don’t know, Mom,” she says, pretending to be reluctant. “It’s a full house tonight.” 

“So?” her mom replies. “Ramses is always full. I’m sure Andy can handle it alright.” 

As if on cue, the man that has just been mentioned by her mom shows up at the door. Andy Lassner, with his silly face, is Ramses’ manager. 

“Yes, I believe Andy is highly competent and reliable,” Ellen supports her mom’s statement, making Andy frown upon hearing his name being mentioned. “Fine, you win. Text me the address.” 

Ending the phone call, she looks up to see Andy. “What’s up?” 

Andy steps in with his casual grin. “Please tell me it’s one of Audrey’s hot friends who’s interested in getting to know me.” 

“Hate to let yo down, pal, but that was my mom,” Ellen smirks. 

“Damn.” Andy winced painfully. 

“So, what’s up?” Ellen asks again. 

Andy uses his thumb to indicate the kitchen. “Jill is….. uhm, you know. Making a scene. Again. You better calm her down or else our guests won’t have their desserts until another 2 hours.” 

Ellen stands up and takes off her dark blue apron. “Seems like it’s gonna be your job tonight. I have to go see my mom.” 

“Any problems?” Andy asks. 

“No,” Ellen waves her hand. “Let us just hope she won’t be making any. Or else she’s gonna find herself on the plane, flying back to Chicago much earlier than she’s planned it to be.” 

******

An hour later, Ellen has finally arrived at the wedding party venue. The ballroom is beautifully decorated, dominated with pastel colors. It seems like the dinner is over because some guests are already swaying to the delicate music from the orchestra while the rest are having a chat with each other. 

A waiter comes up to Ellen and offers her a glass of champagne. Ellen looks at the sparkling glasses wistfully, then smiles and shakes her head. She’s driving tonight so she can’t drink, although she has a feeling that tonight she’s gonna need it. 

Ellen sighs and throws her glance around the room. 

She quickly realizes that she’s a bit under-dressed compared with the guests there. Although she’s donning a clean-cut pantsuit, it seems like her outfit is made for noon events rather than night ones. Well, she can’t do nothing about it now. And anyway, she’s only here to pick up her mom. 

Speaking of her mom….

Her eyes quickly spot the woman she’s looking for. Betty DeGeneres is sitting on a table across the room, chatting with someone. Ellen takes some wide strides towards her mom. 

“Hey, Mom,” she greets once she’s by her side. 

“Oh, Ellen! You’re finally here,” her mom exclaims with a wide smile. “Here, this is my good friend. Margie, Ellen. Ellen, Margie.” 

Ellen averts her focus to her mom’s friend. A slightly tall elderly woman with platinum hair and a pleasant smile. “Hello, M’am. Pleasure to meet you,” she says politely. “I apologize for my outfit.” 

“Pleasure is all mine. And don’t worry about your outfit. I know full-well that your mom is the one who forced you to come here,” she says lightly with a soft voice. “Come, sit down. Your mom has told me all about you.” 

Contrary to her delicate voice, she shakes Ellen’s hand with a firm grip. 

“All good things, I hope,” Ellen mumbles and takes a seat next to her mom. 

Margaret Roger’s hazel eyes are gleaming when she smiles. “Don’t worry. You mom is incredibly proud of you.” 

“Well, where’s your gorgeous daughter, Marge?” Betty interrupts her friend without further ado. “I want to introduce them to each other.” 

Oh, for goodness’ sake, Ellen groans internally. Give me strength. 

Ellen tries hard to keep her poker face but it seems like Margaret can see through it because she glances over Betty and chuckles. “You’re still as straight-forwards as ever, Betty.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” Betty replies indifferently. “You know that I’ve always wanted to match our kids up ever since we’re in college, remember? Those silly jokes that turned into a serious discussion? I was a bit disappointed to find out that we both got daughters. So can you imagine how thrilled I was to find out that your daughter is gay as well? I was delighted. Come, now, drag your daughter here.” 

A waiter comes to their table and offers them mineral water. Ellen quickly grabs a glass, although right now she’s actually in need of something stronger. 

“Ah, there she is, your Portia, Marge,” her mom says. “Get her here!” 

Ellen takes a gulp of the mineral water and prays once more in her heart. Please give me strength. But at least Margaret’s daughter has a beautiful name. A name that awakens some memories in Ellen’s head that she doesn’t really want to remember right now. 

“Hi, Mama. Betty. You guys having fun?” 

A cheerful voice of a girl makes Ellen lift her head. And she’s stunned. The girl who is standing in the middle of Betty and Margaret is a beautiful girl with long, wavy blonde hair. Her slender figure is wrapped in an elegant maroon dress. Ellen can’t see her eyes from where where she's sitting, but she knows that her eyes must be blue. She knows for sure because… 

“Portia, darling, I want you to meet my daughter, Ellen.” Her mom’s voice disperses her train of thoughts and Ellen jumps up from her seat. “Ellen, this is Portia de Rossi.”

Ellen’s eyes never once left the girl’s face. And that’s why she clearly sees the drastic change in her expression. When the girl turns her head towards her, the sweet smile on her face disappears. Her warm, friendly eyes turns cold. 

“Portia de Rossi,” Ellen mumbles her name, sticking out her hand, “long time no see.” 

“Wait, wait, wait. You guys know each other?” Betty asks in surprise. 

“We were friends in high school,” Ellen says. Her hand is still sticking out, not welcomed by Portia. 

Portia glances over Ellen’s hand, then back to Ellen’s face. Ellen can tell that the girl grits her teeth because of how rigid her face has become. After another 5 seconds, Portia shakes Ellen’s hand very quickly and says, “We were just in the same high school. We weren’t friends at all.” 

“Oh my god, look at this, Margie. We have been trying to get them together but as it turned out they already know each other. Isn’t this a delightful surprise?” Betty DeGeneres laughs with utter joy. It seems like she didn’t even hear Portia’s last sentence. Or perhaps she pretends like she didn’t. “Come sit here, Portia. Here.” 

Portia de Rossi doesn’t sit down immediately. She stares at her mom’s friend in doubt, then back to her mom. Ellen sees Margaret pats an empty chair next to her, and Portia finally takes a seat. Ellen follows. 

Betty has started to talk again, but Ellen isn’t really paying attention. Her mind is bustling with one big question: Does Portia de Rossi still hate her? 

************

“So Ellen is the one responsible of the Ramses in New York, while her brother takes care of the one in Chicago,” Betty explains with pride in her voice.

“Oh, Ramses?” Margaret asks. “We tried several times to book a table there but never actually got one. Right, Portia?” 

Portia forces a polite smile. They did try to reserve a table for dinner, but that’s when she was none the wiser of who the executive chef is. Now that she does know? Ha! Never in her lifetime will she step her feet inside that place. 

“You did? I’m very sorry,” Ellen says. “Let me know when would you like to come, and I’ll make sure that there’s gonna be a table ready for you.” 

Portia feels the need to snort, but she holds herself back. She takes a sip of her red wine instead and looks around the room. Where the hell is Michael when I need him? 

Another waiter comes up to their table, this time with a tray of cake slices .

“By the way, Ellen, you haven’t tried the wedding cake, right?” Betty goes on. “It’s extremely delicious. Portia made it. She has a patisserie in…. Where is it, Marge? Madison Avenue?”

Portia’s mom nods her head. 

“You’re right. This cake is really good.” 

Portia turns her head and sees Ellen looking at her with a smile. 

“I remember that you’ve always made such delicious cakes.” 

All of a sudden Portia’s annoyance reaches its peak. Her grip on the wine glass is getting tighter. She’s sure with just a minuscule amount of pressure, she can actually shatter it into pieces. She doesn’t like seeing Ellen DeGeneres sitting in front of her and talking to her as if they are old friends. They are not friends. They were never friends. They…

Right at that moment, someone touches Portia’s shoulder and that familiar hand is quick to loosen the tense on Portia’s body. She looks up and smiles. 

“Hi, little sister,” Michael Rogers says when his eyes meet Portia’s. 

“Ah, this is my son, Michael,” Margaret says. 

Michael flashes a pleasant smile and shakes hand with both Ellen and Betty. 

“Congratulations on your wedding,” Ellen says. 

“Oh, actually I’m not the groom. It’s Andrew, my older brother. And you’re Ellen DeGeneres from the Ramses? Pleasure to meet you,” Michael says warmly. “I hope none of you mind if I borrow Portia for a minute. She has promised to have a dance with me tonight.” 

“Where on earth have you been?” Portia grumbles when they finally join the other couples on the dance floor. “My cheeks almost cracked because I had to fake a smile for 10 minutes.” 

Portia twirls and they are dancing easily to the beat. “I saw you,” he says placidly. “That’s why I’ve come to the rescue before you spit out your fire— or your wine— to Ellen DeGeneres’ face. 

Portia grimaced. 

“What has she done to you that makes you flash that murderous look? I know you’re not a type of person who hates someone at first sight.”

Portia knows that she can’t possibly lie to her brothers, but that doesn’t mean that she has to spill the full story out right now. So she opts for the shorter version of it. “We were in the same high school. She used to…. bother me, and that’s why I don’t like her.” 

Michael stares at his sister with squinted eyes, as if he’s trying to read Portia’s mind. And then his face turns serious. “Is she the one who used to bother you because you’re adopted? The one who made you cry everyday when you get home from school?”

“Oh, shhh! keep it down,” Portia stares with widened eyes. “It was 10 years ago. And I did not cry everyday.” 

“I don’t give a single damn if it’s today, yesterday, or 10 years ago. If someone messes with my sister and makes her cry, they’re gonna have to face the consequences.” 

The cheerful Michael is now replaced by the serious and protective Michael, who without any single doubt will beat up anybody who hurts his sister. 

Portia puts both hands on her brother’s shoulders, calming him down. “Listen, I’m totally fine. I can handle this on my own. And besides, do you really want to beat someone up in the middle of Andrew’s wedding party?” 

“Who does Michael want to beat up at my wedding party?” 

Portia and Michael turns their head simultaneously towards their oldest brother who is somehow already standing next to them. 

“No one,” Portia answers rapidly. Her eyes go back to Michael and she says in a meaningful tone, “We’re fine, aren’t we, Michael?”

Michael returns her gaze still with his squinted eyes. “Yes, we are. For now,” he sighs. And then with hushed voice, he adds, “But don’t you ever think that I’m going to let this go, little sis.” 

Andrew takes Portia’s hand from Michael’s. “Dance with me, Portia. You know I’m a better dancer than Michael.” 

Portia laughs and lets herself to be dragged away by her oldest brother. 

“Oh, fine,” Michael sighs and puts both hands in the air, surrendering. “I’ll just go and have a dance with your abandoned wife, Andrew.” 

Once Michael left, Andrew looks down to Portia and smiles. “So what was it all about, little sis?” 

“Nothing important,” Portia replies calmly. 

Andrew and Michael are 6 and 4 years older than Portia. Seeing their physical appearance, anybody can tell that Portia is not their sister by birth. Both Andrew and Michael are tall, with hazel eyes they inherited from their mother and dark brown hair, making Portia the only fair one in the entire family. 

When their father died in a car crash years ago, Portia who was still in high school moved from Chicago to New York with her mom. At that time Andrew has just started his job in an advertising company in NY while Michael was still studying in a medical school in Pennsylvania. But her brothers made sure that Portia can continue her school and her college in New York. They’re also a huge help in the building process of her patisserie, turning her dream into reality. 

“Are you giddy with happiness?” Portia asks Andrew amidst their dance. Her father loved to dance with their mother and it seems like his fondness of dancing had been successfully transmitted to their children.

“Seeing my sister happy would make me happy,” Andrew replies. And then he adds on, with a more serious voice, “Look, Portia. I really need you to know that this marriage of mine doesn’t and will never change a thing. You’re still my top priority. Do you understand that?”

“Oh, Andrew,” Portia sighs with a loving smile. “You’re lucky that Jenna is an extremely nice girl. Not every girl is willing to accept the fact that they’re not their husband’s number one.” 

“Yeah, she’s very understanding,” Andrew agrees. “But I mean it, Portia. Nothing changes. Whatever you need and want…” 

“You’ll move the sky and the earth to make it happen,” Portia interrupts. “I know, Andrew. And that’s why I love you. But today is your wedding day, so it’d make me happy if you start thinking about yourself for once and try to have fun. Don’t worry about me.” 

“As a big brother, it’s my duty to worry about you.” 

“Well, just let Michael worry about me for this time being,” Portia goes on. “I’m sure he can do such a fine job on it. After you get back from your honeymoon trip, you can start worrying about me again. Okay?” 

Andrew doesn’t look sure. 

“Goddamnit, Andrew, enjoy your wedding party,” Portia punches her brother playfully and laughs. 

Finally Andrew breathes out and smiles. “Alright, little sis. Alright.”