Devil's Food Cake [✓]

33 | wild west

'Well, where shall I start?' Zachary glanced at a point above my head; my father and I waited in anticipation of what was to come. He had a slight smile on his face as though he was prepared to answer any question you posed at him. It was... sexy.

'Start at the end,' I said with a wry smile, 'and work your way back.'

'With each new beginning, there's always an ending,' Dad said, picking up on my line of thought.

We exchanged a smile.

Zachary's eyes gleamed as though he approved of our philosophy.

'Well, it's funny you should say that,' he said. 'My grandfather on my mother's side — he's passed away now — was a great man. He had a lot of integrity. Although, not a terribly lucky man. He wasn't the most financially secure.'

'How so?' I asked.

My father's eyebrows raised a little at the 'financially secure' bit. Yet, I could tell, like myself, he was intrigued at the revelation.

'He was born slap bang during the depression era. Born and raised in the country. A Kansas boy. He'd experienced great hardship and poverty. It didn't help that his dad was a booze hound and beat his wife, my great grandmother, many times. Of course, that sort of thing was usual in those days...'

'Poor lady,' Dad murmured, his eyes were soft, 'it must of been hard for him growing up.'

'Grandfather decided that he'd had enough. On his sixteenth birthday, his parents were having the most horrific fight. Plates and glasses were smashed against walls in the kitchen. His mother was upset that her husband was seeing one of his paramours - my great grandmother could stand the boozing, but the womanising broke her.' He looked at me carefully, and I was reminded off his vast appetite (or appreciation) for beautiful women. It seemed that the apple hadn't fallen from the tree. Would it have been harsh to assume Zachary had inherited the unsavoury characteristics of his great-grandfather and who knows how many other men in his family?

'Ah, I suppose its in some men's natures,' Dad mused. He didn't look at all shocked; there was a weary acceptance in his tone as though he had encountered many men who held similar attitudes towards women.

I, however, was disgusted and aghast. I couldn't imagine being betrayed in such a way by my partner or spouse. It was simply unfathomable and against my values. But I wasn't so naive as to think it didn't happen.

'My grandfather, David, and his siblings were watching this from outside. Previously, his mother forbid the children to ever get involved during their fights. My father's younger sister was getting tired and hungry. It was starting to rain. They'd been out there for two hours.' Zachary's expression took on an expression of boredom to illustrate how his grandfather and siblings might have felt as their parents tore each other to pieces.

'Aw,' I murmured. 'That can't have been fun.'

'It wasn't,' Zachary agreed. 'But, then, things got worse. William lost it. He grabbed onto his wife's hair and started to drag her across the floor, screaming all these vile anti-Semitic insults. My great grandmother came from a well-to-do Jewish family. They couldn't understand why she went off with William - a Protestant layabout. My grandfather in turn married a rather beautiful Jewish woman, so by all accounts, I am Jewish on my mother's side,' Zachary said with a laugh.

'You're a nice Jewish boy, then?' I couldn't resist saying. It was hard to keep a straight face what with his past romantic history. Modest and shy were the last words one would use to describe Zachary. 'Jewish and Irish. What a weird combination.'

'Candice, don't be so careless!' My father retorted, his eyes widened in shock, although a smile passed across his face to show he was joking.

'I am a man of many different cultures,' Zachary ran with my commentary. 'Mostly oppressed ones...' he shrugged. A roguish smile lingered on his features as though he quite liked my observation; to him, he probably thought it gave him street credibility. Not the usual WASP template of a poor little rich boy.