by Trixie More
“Do you think being parted from you is going to be easy for me?”
A needy, childish part of her rose inside, beating its fists against her ribs. “I want to hear you say it.” Was that her speaking? Where in hell was her pride? “I want it to be unbearable for you, I want you to raise your fists and rant against the unfairness of it. I want you to hate leaving me!” She let the words fly and started to cry again.
“Sophia, Sophia,” he murmured against her hair. “Don’t you know that there is only one jail for me now? It creates itself around me any time you are gone.”
It was her turn to comfort him, getting up on her knees, the cold air of the room making itself known like the bad omen it was, for it meant she wasn’t pressed against him. She pulled his head to her chest, slid her arms over his shoulders and bent her elbows, protecting him and pulling him into her.
“This is how you held me, how you always hold me,” he whispered. Was his voice wavering?
He cleared his throat. “In the alley, when we kissed, in the house when the rubble was raining down around us, I love when you do this.”
His words marked her, wounded her. “Oh, my God,” she cried. “How am I going to stand losing you?”
He sniffed and raised his face to hers, kissing her, soothing her, his arms around her waist, taking his time. She opened to him, slicked her tongue back over his, frantically at first, and then it eased as he led her through a long sensuous dance of give and take, exploration and confirmation, love and loss. Finally, short kisses began, and she knew it was time. He would lead them, he would carry her through it, and he would insist that she take his confession. Tears slid silently down her face; her mouth didn’t know any shape other than this tight down turning and trembling. She knew she looked a wreck, and she knew he loved her. She sat before him as herself, wild, frizzing hair, red nose, slumped over her own lap, her tummy pooching out, and he still looked only into her eyes, drinking in whatever he saw there. Sophia reached up and brushed her trembling fingers across his temple, tracing that twisting vein, running her thumb over his cheek. Doug kissed her chastely on the mouth.
“Here, let’s get you a cool cloth, and then we’ll get this done.” He rose from the bed, his briefs hugging his hips, his spine hidden between the curves of the muscles across his back. He returned too soon with a washcloth and a tissue box. The mattress shuddered as he sat back down, the cloth cold and damp moved over her swollen face. He turned it to a dry corner and dried her face, handed her a tissue, and collected it back from her. Again, and once more. He set them aside as if she were a child with a fever, tucking the covers over her legs, smoothing her hair back from her face.
“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded.
“When I was twenty, I raped Edward Walker.”
Sophia should hate the man sitting before her, but that helpful emotion was nowhere to be found. She sniffed, feeling only sorrow. Sorrow for Ed and the wasted years of his life, his confusion, and the horror of the violation. Sorrow for Doug, who could never be redeemed.
“Tell me,” she said straightening. Somewhere inside, she was calm now, she was professional.
He turned his gaze to the end of the bed, somewhere near where his feet were crossed at the ankles, but she knew he couldn’t see them. He was looking inside.
“There’s no excuse for it.”
“I know,” she agreed. “Tell me how it happened.”
“It won’t matter what happened. I did it, and nothing I can do will ever change it.” Doug’s voice was quiet and resolved. There was almost no emotion in his voice, as if he’d said this same thing over and over until he could voice it without any inflection.
“I know. Tell me, anyway. Where were you?” She laid a hand on his back, rubbed in small circles, and he drew in a breath, beneath her hand his back shuddered.
“A house party,” he said simply.
“How did it happen?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was dead, wooden. His thin mouth drooped as he shook his head. “I was high on G. I was always high on something back then, if it wasn’t the rush of trading, then it was drugs or the perverse pleasure I took in anything my father wouldn’t like. If it wasn’t for the video...”
Sophia stayed quiet. She’d already known he’d done it. Even before that first day by the hot dog vendor outside the courtroom. Dorothy had told Allison. Alison had told Marley and Sophia one winter afternoon in the kitchen, while garlic browned on the stove. Marley had slammed something and walked out. Beneath her softly stroking palm, she could feel the steady beat of Doug’s heart, could see the fading bruises on his back. He’d killed a man to save her. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t asked for evidence. He’d taken the brunt of a falling ceiling on his back to protect her, and he’d never mentioned it. Sophia passed her palm gently over a purple and yellow patch of skin. He didn’t acknowledge the pain if he felt it. She knew more about this man than she did about anyone in her life.
“Doug?” She kept her voice soft and coaxing.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember any of it.” The shaved skull with its pink skin and glittering bristles showed the widow’s peak he’d have if he let it grow. His brow wrinkled as he squinted at nothing, his lower lip pushing his mouth up into a grimace of concentration. He reached his right arm across his body and scratched at his left shoulder absently, the movement making all the muscles in his back jump to life. Suddenly, she understood, his conditioning was a tool to him. His mind was a resource; his body gave him options that he’d need in the hell he’d be going back to.
“How do you know it was you then?” She was proud of how calm her voice was.
He pressed his lips together and shook his head back and forth, glancing toward her.
“The video is the only way; that and Tommy.”
“Tommy?”
“He was there too. He told me what happened.”
“He told me he was there.”
His head snapped around in surprise. “What?” The shock on his face brought her a flash of guilt. The differences between her profession and his suddenly felt like a physical presence between them, driving them apart. Her breath started to come in short bursts, and she felt her nose grow stuffed again.
“Stop, sweetheart, stop,” he said gently.
“It was that day I had pizza with you two. He told me then.”
Doug blinked slowly, staring at nothing. His mouth turned down wryly. “So, that’s what I walked into when I came back that day.” He shook his head. “I’d thought you’d found him attractive.” The pale eyebrows lifted, he shook his head gently. “I was more worried about that than anything else.”
“You were worried I would be attracted to Tom?” He nodded. Her confusion pushed the main topic aside. After all, they both knew he’d done it. “Isn’t he gay?”
Doug looked at her and shrugged. “Tommy? Not openly, but yeah, I think so. Women love him.”
“Well, I’m not one of them,” She was genuinely perplexed. “Tommy’s in love with you. You know that, right?”
Doug laughed at that. “That’s where you’re wrong. People make that mistake about us all the time, but it’s not true. Tommy’s my best friend. We love each other like friends, but he’s not in love with me. That would be...” Doug hesitated, looking at her with his brow furrowed, his expression confused and alarmed. “That would be—horrible,” he whispered. “That would change everything.”
She caressed his neck. “Maybe I’m wrong,” she murmured. His astonishment explained a lot. She thought back to the way Tommy had looked so—duplicitous that day he’d told her, as if he’d known exactly what he was doing, turning in his best friend. Perhaps he’s only meant to turn her away from Doug. For now, she wouldn’t press the issue. Doug had enough on his mind. “I must be wrong. After all, I thought you were gay.”
He nodded, but his expression remained clouded.
“So there’s the video, and there’s what Tommy told you,” she said g
ently. “Anything else?”
He shook his head. “Just my tattoo.”
She tipped her head. He pulled his right leg from beneath the sheet and bent his knee, canting his hips toward her so she could see the side of his calf. The skin there was damaged, a paler scaring visible.
“I had it removed,” he said. “It matched the tattoo in the video. How many other men with red hair and the same tattoo could have been at the party that day?” He shook his head. “No, it was me.” He looked at her, shame written all over his face as he said, “I thought it was consensual.”
“I thought you didn’t remember.”
“I remember getting to the party, I remember that we were swimming and that we stayed later than most. I remember I had sex with a guy.” He shrugged. “I sure as hell don’t remember him screaming.”
Sophia surprised Doug. He’d expected her to leave after his confession, expected her to maybe stay at her brother’s then head to work to turn him in, but she didn’t do any of that. She’d coaxed him into getting dressed, and they’d gone out, walked with her arm snuggly through his, supporting him discreetly as he tried to manage the sidewalk. Their diner. His waitress wasn’t there, of course. She worked morning to afternoon shifts. The meal was hot and hearty, and they’d walked past the table they’d sat at that afternoon, a lifetime ago, when she’d pulled her chair around and hugged him.
This time, they shared a booth, sitting on the same side, so he had a chance of being able to see her, to see the bright intelligence and warm compassion in her chocolate-brown eyes. He kept fiddling with her hair, loving that it was wild and untamed. This was his Sophia. The rest of the world got the calm, cool, and perfected version of her. He got the warrior. She was all he ever wanted and never knew he needed.
“When are you going back?” he said.
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I can’t stay with you much longer...”
He’d expected the words long before this, but he was still shocked at the pain he felt.
“I’m going to my parents. It’s a long commute, but they have a huge house...”
He’d forgotten she came from wealth. She was just his Sophia at the moment, but not for long. Just as well, he was too old for playing meet the parents, blending families, if he’d ever been capable of it. He’d never even asked to meet Janice’s family. Perhaps he’d done her a disservice.
“Huh.” The sound escaped him before he could stop it.
“What?” Sophia asked.
“Nothing. I just had an epiphany—a day late and a dollar short.”
“About us?”
“No, sweetheart,” he kissed her temple. “Just another thing in my past that I could have done better.”
That night when she slept in his arms, his sorrow ate at him. There would be tears at some point, but he wouldn’t cry while he still had her. As he fell asleep, he wondered if there would be anything left of him when this was over.
In the darkness, when he woke, he was turned away from her, and Sophia was clinging to his back like a monkey, all long arms sprawling over his shoulders, long legs tangled with him, her gentle snoring tickling the side of his ear. He carefully pulled her on top of him, and with the full weight of her draped over him, her head tucked under his chin, he drew the covers over them both, hugged her close, and slept like the dead.
The next morning she dressed, packed her things, and was gone.
Awareness seeped in, and Ben clung to his sleep, wanting to drag out this restful relaxation, the morning to come, and the whole damn day. He was alone in his bed but not alone in his home. A grin split his face. In the guest room, Marley and Karito were tucked beneath the blankets, in matching pajamas of all things. His smile widened, and he stretched his arms above his head. The high window in the room allowed him to see the sky but kept the privacy of the room. Blue and sunny, about seven a.m. if he had to guess. God, he loved Sundays. No work, nothing to do. Maybe he’d dress and go get them some donuts or something. Kids loved donuts. Women loved it when their kids were happy. He loved the whole damn thing.
Stretching, noting that the aches of his job were gone, the day of rest yesterday rebuilding the scaffolding of his body. He threw back the blankets and rose. Tomorrow he’d be back at the jobsite with Derrick, ironworkers for the time being. Ben had his eye on a supervisor’s position, and with luck, he’d have to keep himself in shape at the gym soon, like the rest of the desk jockeys. He scratched his balls, his yawn cut short by the realization he’d need a robe if he was going to check out the suspicious sounds of life coming from the kitchen. He was going to have to rethink his sleeping attire.
For now, a pair of jeans would do, but he was just vain enough to want to go shirtless. After all, Marley was here, and when she looked at him like that, well, who’d pass that up?
Smiling like a fool, he hit the bathroom, ran a comb across his head, gave his teeth the once-over, and turned toward the hall, the happiness in his heart threatening to turn him into a complete sap. Fortunately, Karito saved him by giving him an excuse to smile like an idiot.
“Ben! Come and see!” Long hair flying, she barreled down the hallway, a blue and white explosion of Disney pajamas, brown feet, and white teeth. She launched herself at his waist, and he caught her, just in time, to save himself from a knee to the groin. He tossed her once to get her up higher, swinging his hips to avoid her kicking feet, and hefted her over his shoulder. The feeling of her little stomach, fluttering with her laughter against his shoulder and neck, made him laugh outright, joining her in her silliness.
“What should I see?” he asked, spinning around.
“Over there!” Karito was presumably pointing behind him. He spun around, and of course, she was now facing the other way.
“Where?”
Giggles erupted as he spun again.
“By the windows!”
“I don’t see any windows,” he teased.
“Behind you, silly!” Karito beat a fist against his back.
“You are just like your mother,” he said laughing and then he was in the open living area and she was there, standing in his kitchen, her hair down around her shoulders, her curved hips moving side to side as she did some damn thing in there. He hadn’t the brains to care. Then she turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, her expression flirtatious and happy, smiling at him as if she cared and he was speechless.
“Ben!” Karito thumped him again and all he could do was pull her off his shoulder and hug her to his chest. He held Marley’s eyes as he bussed the top of Karito’s head. Marley was turning to him now, and in her expression was everything he’d ever wanted.
God, he was a sap. They hadn’t even slept together yet, and she had him running ragged for her. Yesterday, it had been a ferry ride and shopping at the highest end toy store they could find, hence the pajamas, and then a movie about princesses. He shook his head. What would it be like to add a small dark-haired boy to that day? Tossing a football to his son? He’d adopt Karito if it came to that. If her father would allow it. He frowned, but Karito was sliding down his chest and running to the windows, dragging him by the hand.
“It’s a park,” she said, making nose and fingerprint marks on the glass. “It has a playground.”
Ben looked out his windows with new eyes. Yes, there was a park with trees across the street. That had been a selling point when they bought the warehouse and converted it to living quarters. Both Derrick and he liked the idea that from their higher vantage, the boughs of the trees made it seem like they weren’t a block from a subway. It seemed more like the town they grew up in when they could see trees. He’d never contemplated the red, blue, and yellow equipment tucked further into the park.
“You want to go there today?” he asked.
“Of course!” she crowed in unconscious mimicry of her mother.
“Gotta check with your mom,” he said.
When he turned to look back at Marley, the expression on her face undid him. Her pret
ty mouth was turned slightly down, a crinkle between her eyebrows and her eyes, her eyes...it wasn’t sorrow—her breathing was quick, her chest rising with it. She looked up at him and he felt it like a punch to the gut. He’d beg himself to answer that look of longing.
He was in such trouble.
Ben tried a small smile he hoped looked reassuring as he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms.
Karito was patting her mother’s side. “We’re going to the park, Mama, we’re going after breakfast.”
“It’ll be all right. I’ll be careful,” he said into Marley’s hair. “We’ll go slow.”
Marley clutched him, her cheek to his chest, voice hoarse. “Oh Ben, but I want to go so fast. Fast as we can.”
Maybe he ought to get a cat. Tommy drank his morning coffee on the minuscule balcony overlooking the street. He had a sweatshirt on. It was chilly out, but he loved having a place to sit outside, and he wasn’t going to give it up until he absolutely had to. That thought led to the idea that maybe it was time to leave the city and find a place somewhere with more space. The ridiculous mortgage on his condo would get him acreage, a car, and a house out in Pennsylvania. The trouble was...
His thoughts stopped. He leaned in his chair to get a better look. Was that Sophia Moss walking away down the street? Her hair wasn’t done, and she didn’t have her signature coat on, but as he well knew, she’d lost it. The height and the movements looked exactly like her. If she’d come from his building, that, along with the quilted bag she was carrying, could only mean one thing. She’d been at Doug’s overnight. Bitter unhappiness swept through him even though he’d known since the hospital that Doug, that she and Doug had formed some kind of relationship.
Tommy got up from his little bistro set and went inside, shutting the sliding door behind him. He looked around. Tiny living room, cramped kitchen, two large closets, decent size bedroom. This was the total scope of his life. This and working in an office that was like a scene in a sci-fi movie. One where looting and decay were already the order of the day. What had he been thinking? Staying and running the company when Doug had flat-out thrown it away?
