Begin Again: Chapter 11

How do you apologize without really apologizing? 

Portia tossed and turned on her bed all night long just thinking of the answer to that question. She wants to avoid the obligation of verbally saying ‘I’m sorry’ to Ellen. At first, she even intended to wave this problem away for good. She doesn’t mind not having to see or talk to Ellen again. Perhaps it’s even better, remembering their history. However, Portia can’t get rid of the guilt that has been gnawing her heart. After all, Ellen hadn’t done anything unpleasant to her since they met again 2 weeks ago. 

Gosh. Has it only been 2 weeks? It feels like a lifetime ago. 

Anyway, this morning Portia finally decided to ‘apologize’ in her own way. Yes, that’s the goal. Ellen DeGeneres might be the executive chef of a Michelin-starred restaurant, but she’s still a woman. And women love cakes… don’t they all? Well, at least Portia does. And Kali does, too. So she decided to make 3 dozens of her well-known tartlets and will have it delivered to Ramses. Special delivery for Ellen DeGeneres. 

That’s a good idea, right? Of course it is. 

“Hey, Boss. Whose order are you working on?” Seb asks after he put the cake he’s working on into the oven. “Need a hand?” 

“Nope, thanks. Just regular ones,” Portia replies, peeking into her own oven to check her tartlets. “I just need to decorate it a bit after this.” 

“Alright.” 

“Anyway, can we ask someone to send these tartlets to the Ramses later today?” Portia asks, straightening her back. 

Seb shrugs. “Sure. For whom?” 

“Ellen DeGeneres.” 

“Your fiancée?” 

Portia turns around in a speed of light. “Excuse me?” 

“Ellen DeGeneres your fiancée?” Seb repeats his question innocently.  

“Who said that she’s my fiancée?” Portia squints her eyes. 

Seb moves his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the front part of the shop. “Kali and Ben,” he says. And then his hand points at Portia’s hand. “And seeing that ring on your finger, I just assumed they’re right.” 

Portia looks down to the silver ring that used to belong to Ellen’s grandmother and curses inwardly. Her mind has been too occupied thinking about the way to apologize that she absolutely forgot about this ring. She has to take it off. Very very soon. 

“So she’s not your fiancée?” Seb asks again. He sounds genuinely confused and curious, demanding a confirmation. 

Portia sighs and shakes her head. She’s just about to speak when she sees Michael walks through the kitchen door. “Hi, Mike. What are you doing here?” And then she remembers that her brother called her last night. “Oh, yeah. I meant to call you back this morning but I totally forgot,” she smiles apologetically. 

Unlike the usual, Michael doesn’t return Portia’s smile. He grabs Portia by the elbow and drags her to her office room. Portia turns to Seb. “Seb, that…”

“I’ll watch your tartlets,” Seb interrupts quickly. 

“Thanks,” Portia mumbles and finally closes her office door. 

Michael’s scowling with his arms crossed in front of his chest in the middle of the tiny room. 

Portia stares back at her brother confusedly. “Okay. What—“ 

“What did you mean by asking someone to marry you?” Michael fires right away. 

“What?” Portia blinks several times, taken aback by the question. And then she remembers the conversation she was having with Seb before Michael barged in. “Oh.” 

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” Michael mumbles flatly. “Wanna tell me about it now?” 

Assuming that her brother only heard half of the conversation, Portia sighs exasperatedly and tries to explain, “It’s not like that. I didn’t ask her to marry me. She didn’t ask me to marry her. It’s just that her mom is so determined to match us up and she decided out of the blue that we’re already engaged. But don’t you worry. We’re not engaged and we’re not gonna marry each other.” 

Now Michael frowns perplexedly. “What are you talking about?” 

“Ellen Degeneres, of course,” Portia answers. 

“Ellen DeGeneres?”

“Yep.” 

“Ellen DeGeneres from the Ramses?” 

“Yes,” Portia nods her head once more. “Isn't she the one you were talking about?” 

“Oh, for gods’ sake.” Michael shuts his eyes and touches his forehead with his hand. “No. She’s not the one I was talking about. But, fine, let’s talk about her first,” he mumbles. “So her mom wants her to marry you.” 

“That’s what it seems like.” 

Michael is silence for a while, thinking, then, “Kali said you went out with her yesterday night.” 

“I did.” 

“I thought you hate her.” 

“Well…” Portia shrugs. “She’s not too bad.” 

“Oh?” 

Portia chooses to not say anything further. 

Michael stares at Portia with one brow arching up. “You know that you can’t be anyone’s fiancée before you got Andrew’s and my permission, right?” 

Portia snorts, laughing. “Just like you can’t have a girlfriend without my permission.” 

“I’m glad you still remember that,” Michael says, smiling. “So explain to me why on earth did you ask Francesca to marry you before she left for South Africa 4 years ago?” 

Portia feels like she just had a heart attack. The buried old memories come flooding back in a blink of an eye. “Who?” she asks instead. 

“Francesca,” Michael repeats. “Francesca Gregorini. You still remember her, don’t you?” 

Portia blinks again. Her heart is racing in her chest. Of course she remembers Francesca. She also remembers how crazy she was about that one friend of her brothers'. “Yes, I do,” she mumbles. “She went back to New York? When?”

“Several days ago. I also just found out last night when she came to see me,” Michael says. “Now tell me, is it true? Is there something I need to know, Portia?” 

“No,” Portia quickly answers while heat is rising up into her cheeks. Then she forces a brief chuckle and continues with a voice that she hopes to sound casual to her brother, “My god. I can’t believe she took my words seriously. I thought she knew that I was just joking.”

“So this is only a misunderstanding? I don’t have to tell Andrew tonight that his beloved little sister is engaged to someone without his permission?” Michael asks dubiously. “You never really asked Francesca to marry you, did you, Portia?”

Portia bites her under lip. 

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

“What if we got engaged first before you go to Johannesburg?” Portia asks, staring at Francesca from behind the rim of her sunglasses. “You know I can’t just wait for you that long without any certainty.” 

Both of them are sitting side by side on one of the benches in East River State Park, enjoying the warm sunlight and staring at Manhattan’s skyscrapers across the East River. 

Francesca smiles and takes Portia’s hand in hers. “I don’t want to take the risk of getting shot by your brothers.” 

Portia frowns. “Why are you so scared of my brothers? Aren’t you all good friends? And it’s not like they’re going to really shoot you anyway.” 

“They still consider me as a good friend because they haven’t found out yet that I’ve been dating their sister behind their back,” Francesca says lightly. “I know they’re not gonna shoot me, but I still can’t imagine what they’re gonna do if they find out what we’ve been hiding from them all this time.” 

“You’re the one who wants to keep it secret,” Portia reminds her. “Not me.” 

Francesca nods her head. “Yes. And for a good reason. You know that.” 

Portia sighs quietly and gazes on the sparkling surface of the river. Honestly, she doesn’t understand why Francesca insists on keeping their relationship hidden from her brothers. Portia’s brothers are protective, but they’re not monsters. Portia’s happiness is on their top priority list. 

“It feels unfair to ask you to wait,” Francesca mutters without looking at Portia. 

Portia shrugs reluctantly. “Of course it’s unfair. But if that’s what you want, then I don’t mind waiting.” 

Francesca squeezes Portia’s hand softly, takes a deep breath, then says, “I think you shouldn’t wait for me.” 

Portia turns quickly to Francesca. “What do you mean?” 

This time Francesca stares back at Portia. Her face looks serious. “I don’t know when will I be back, so I don’t have the right to ask you to wait for me,” she says. 

Portia can’t breathe for a moment. Oh, no. She knows what’s happening. She tries to gulp and asks, “Are you breaking up with me?” 

“Don’t you think it’s for the best?” Francesca asks back. “You’re still young. You should enjoy your life, have fun, meet a lot of people, do what you want to do before you take a big decision like getting engaged or marrying someone.”

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” Portia says dryly and tries to pull her hand from Francesca’s grip. 

Francesca refuses to let her hand go. “Portia,” she sighs. “You know exactly how I feel about you.” 

“I thought so, too, but now I’m not sure anymore,” Portia spits out. 

“I love you. I really do,” Francesca goes on. “That’s why I took this decision.” 

Portia wants to speak but Francesca puts her forefinger on Portia’s lips, stopping her. 

“Listen,” she says, “if once I come back you still feel the same way about me, I’d go straight to your brothers. What do you say?” 

Portia doesn’t want to turn into a pathetic girl who begs her lover not to leave her. She’s not that kind of person. So she stays silent and stares blankly at the surface of the river before her without saying anything. 

And that’s the last time Portia ever sees Francesca. 


***********


"Portia?"

Portia jumps, snapping back to reality. "Yes?" she mumbles, looking down to her feet,

"You didn't ask Francesca to marry you, did you?" her brother asks her one more time.

"No," Portia says, smiling at him. "Of course not."