Sleeping With The Enemy

by Parker, Ali

  I couldn’t stop seeing my dad. It was little snippets of our lives over the last twenty-nine years. There were few really good, happy times, but they were there. Those were the memories I wanted to hang onto. Unfortunately, the overwhelming number of memories that involved my dad drunk and angry or drunk and humiliating me were hard to ignore.

  I finally managed to focus long enough to make a plate of scrambled eggs for me and Hayden to split. “Here,” I said, putting the plate with a piece of buttered toast on it in front of her.

  “I’m really not hungry,” she murmured.

  I sat down at the table. “I know, but you need to eat.”

  The girl’s face was puffy. She had cried. Obviously. I cried for about a minute. I didn’t cry because I felt a great loss with his death. I cried because there would never be that chance for us to have a healthy relationship. It was over and done. She picked up her fork and stabbed at the eggs.

  “Did you cry?” she asked.

  “A little.”

  “Was he ever a good dad?”

  The way she asked broke my heart. Hayden never really got the chance to develop a real relationship with him. Not even a bad one really. He was there but he wasn’t there. “He had very few moments.”

  “I wish I had one really good moment with him,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m crying so much.”

  I touched her hand. “Because he was your dad. You are probably crying because of what you will never have. You are human. Someone you knew very well died. You are a good person with a huge heart. I’m not the least bit surprised you are taking it hard.”

  “Patrick didn’t cry,” she said.

  I shrugged. “Patrick isn’t the emotional type. He will grieve in his own way.”

  “I think I feel guilty,” she said. “I don’t know. I feel so many things. I can’t sort it all out.”

  “Don’t feel guilty.”

  “But he was my dad and I wasn’t there.”

  “None of us were there,” I told her. “The doctor said it happened fast. Dad probably didn’t even realize it was happening.”

  “Why wasn’t Mom there?”

  That was a tough question. “She was there,” I reminded her. “Dad was in bed. She didn’t know anything happened.”

  “Do you think she could have saved him if she wasn’t wasted?”

  I tried not to grimace. “I don’t know. None of us will ever know. Again, the doctor said it was the kind of stroke people don’t usually recover from. Even if she would have been right there, it isn’t likely he could have been saved.”

  “Do you think he thought about me? Us?”

  “I don’t know, Hayden. I wish I did. We all knew Dad was going down a dangerous road. He’s been drinking hard for nearly twenty years. I think I have always expected the drinking to kill him in some way. It did. It caught up with him.”

  Tears streaked down her cheeks. I reached for the box of tissues I was keeping nearby for these occasions. She grabbed one and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe how much I’m crying.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You cry all you want. You deserve to cry.”

  “But you aren’t crying,” she said with a sob.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It was completely inappropriate, but nothing felt normal. “I know. I’m sorry. I almost want to cry. I can’t. Right now, I’m focused on making sure you are okay. I’m sure there is going to be some point in my life I break down and have a real crying jag. It’s just, well, I grew up much the same as you did but I have had twice as long to be hurt by our father. It’s hard to get past all that and feel genuine grief. It doesn’t mean I didn’t care about him, but I shut off that part of my heart a long time ago.”

  “What about Mom? Do you love her?”

  I blew out a breath. “That’s a tough one. I do, but between the two of them, she is the one that has given me the most difficulties. I think because she kept a foot in the land of the living and was more present in my life, I feel differently about her.”

  “You don’t like her,” she stated.

  “I don’t respect her,” I clarified.

  “Did you respect Dad?”

  I had to think about that. “I don’t know. I think I was numb to Dad. I kind of closed myself off from both of them. I have had years to shut down that part of my heart. You haven’t. You have every right to feel hurt and sad. Feel it. I’ll be here to help you through it.”

  “Oh my god,” she wailed.

  I immediately grew concerned. “What? What’s wrong?”

  She snatched another tissue and dabbed at the fresh onslaught of tears. “What if I had been there? What if I found him? I could have never lived with that.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t.”

  “But if you didn’t come to the house that day, I would be in that house dealing with that.”

  I scooted my chair closer to her. “It’s okay,” I said, patting her shoulder.

  “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “For getting me out of there. I couldn’t have dealt with that. This is bad enough. I feel so guilty for leaving. I feel even guiltier for being glad I wasn’t there.”

  “Do. Not. Feel. Guilty. You are completely innocent in this. You were born into this shitstorm. You didn’t get a choice in your parents. I’m glad you are out of there. I am so glad we got you out of there.”

  She wiped her cheeks. “I think it was some kind of fate or premonition. How many times had you offered to let me live with you before? I always turned you down. I always told you I was okay. For some reason, that day was different.”

  That almost made me cry. “I think we have to believe there is a higher power. I don’t know who or what, but that day was supposed to happen. I’m so glad to have you here with me.”

  “Where is Patrick?” she suddenly asked.

  I looked down at the eggs on my plate that were long cold and seriously unappetizing. “He is handling the arrangements.”

  “Shouldn’t we be there?” she asked.

  “No. This is something Patrick can do. I think he needs to do it. Let him handle it. We’ll go to the funeral but there is no need to draw out this agony.”

  She pushed the eggs around on her plate. “I hate this.”

  “I know. So do I.”

  “Why didn’t he just stop?” she whispered. “Do you sometimes feel like he didn’t love us enough? He knew he was killing himself. Why didn’t he stop? Why didn’t he want to live to be my dad? Your dad? I think he didn’t love me.”

  I let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I believe he did love you. He was sick. He was a sick, sick man and didn’t want to get better. That does not reflect badly on you. What he did was on him. You are worthy of love.”

  “I hope this gets better soon. I don’t like feeling like this.”

  I wanted to tell her it would be okay. I knew it would be, but I couldn’t tell her how long it would take to find okay. “We are going to get through this. Some days will be harder than others. You’ve got me and Patrick. I promise, we are going to be here for you.”

  She stared out the big window that offered a nice view of the city. “What about Mom?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s going to die soon.”

  “Hey, no, we don’t know that,” I told her.

  She turned those beautiful, sweet, and innocent hazel eyes on me. “We do know that. She is going to OD one of these days. She is going to fall into a lake or wrap her car around a tree. She won’t live much longer.”

  She was right. I hated that she was right, but it was the cold hard truth. “All we can do is get through this one day at a time. You know how hard you have tried to help her. So have I. So has Patrick. This is up to her. If she does lose her life to her addiction, that is on her.”

  She rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m going to try and take a nap. I’m so tired.”

  “I’ll order some pizza in a c
ouple of hours,” I offered. “That might go down a little better than my overcooked eggs.”

  A watery smile spread over her face. “Okay. Thank you so much for taking care of me. I promise I’ll be better.”

  “Take as long as you need,” I told her.

  She got to her feet. I jumped out of my chair and pulled her in for a hug. I wasn’t a hugger. I had not been brought up with a lot of hugs. In that moment, I knew that was what she needed. She held me tight, more tears and painful sobs escaping her mouth. I held her close, saying nothing. When she was ready, she pulled away and went to her room.

  I grabbed one of the tissues and dabbed at my eyes. My heart hurt for her. I was no longer sad about my father’s passing. I was pissed. I was so pissed he had done it to himself and left behind a little girl who needed him. He was a selfish bastard.

  I picked up the plates of uneaten eggs and scraped the remnants into the trash. Carrie had been there for her when Patrick gave her the news. I was grateful to Carrie for stepping up, but I knew it was difficult for her. Her emotions were still raw when it came to death. I couldn’t ask her to deal with a sobbing teenager, but Patrick decided it was best she be told before our mother could call or text her the news.

  I figured I better take advantage of her nap and take my own nap. Before I could lay down, I needed to check in on Patrick. He was pissed at me. He didn’t say it, but I knew he was. Once the dust settled, he would be letting me know just how pissed off he was.

  In that moment, I didn’t care. I didn’t plan on seeing Tyson again anyway. I saw his true colors. I thought he changed. He didn’t. He was still the selfish prick he had always been. He could fuck off and take his museum and the Louvre with him. Family was more important than ever.

  After checking in with Patrick, I walked into my room and flopped down on my bed. I closed my eyes, praying for sleep. It wasn’t going to happen. Between Tyson, my dad, and the knowledge that Patrick now knew about me and Tyson, it was all too much. Sleep was not going to happen anytime soon.

  I got up and opened my closet. I needed a dress for the funeral. My eyes immediately went to the navy-blue dress. Could I wear blue? I moved a few things around, looking for something black. I didn’t want to wear black. Was that disrespectful?

  I didn’t care. He didn’t have enough decency not to drink himself into an early grave, leaving his young daughter behind. Fuck him. I was going to wear blue. Hell, maybe I would wear pink. The man did not deserve my tears.

  Chapter 64

  Tyson

  I tapped my pen on the yellow pad sitting atop my desk. Mae was still not talking to me. I didn’t blame her. I fucked up. The funeral was tomorrow. I only found out because I saw the obituary in the paper. The family sure as hell wasn’t talking to me.

  “Hello?” I answered my cell phone with no enthusiasm.

  “Wow, that doesn’t make a man feel welcome,” Alec said.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “It’s been a shitty couple of days.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The Louvre wants to buy the museums,” I told him.

  “What? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No, I’m very serious,” I told him. “I just got back Sunday night, or morning. Fuck if I know when I got back.”

  “They want to buy you out?” he questioned.

  “Yes.”

  He laughed. “You sound pretty damn excited about that.”

  “It’s not been a great couple of days.”

  “You went to France?” he questioned.

  “Yes. They gave me a big presentation, showing me what my shit would look like in their big, fancy museum. He gave me a private tour.”

  “That definitely sounds awful,” he said still laughing. “Do you know how many times I reached out to them? A lot. I offered to loan them pieces to generate some income. I offered to sell them pieces. I never heard a word back from them.”

  “They are calling now.”

  “That is awesome.”

  “They want to buy all of it. Every last piece.”

  “No shit?” he questioned.

  “I’m serious. They really only want about half of what I have, but they are so kind as to offer to buy the whole damn thing. You know, so I’m not left with a leftover pile of shit.”

  “Why are you angry about this? I’m very confused.”

  “Because,” I snapped.

  “Because this is essentially your dream come true? Remember when we used to talk about one day beating the Louvre? You’ve won. They want what you have. That’s a huge win.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Is this real?” he questioned.

  “Why in the hell would I make it up?” I growled.

  “I don’t know. It’s just so crazy. I can’t believe you got their attention! Why in the hell aren’t you celebrating?”

  “It isn’t a done deal,” I told him.

  “Is there an official offer?”

  “Yes.”

  “All you have to do is sign? Have you looked it over?”

  “I have. I passed it on to the lawyers. They know more about this shit than I do. They have all the paperwork on the artifacts and what not. They are the ones that can come up with a value.”

  He was quiet for several seconds. “Are you really going to do it?”

  I looked down at the yellow pad where there were doodles and random words written down. Each word was connected to a random thought. “How does someone turn down an offer from the most prestigious museum in the world?” I asked.

  “Easy,” he replied. “One word. You say no.”

  “It isn’t easy. This is the measuring stick against which every museum grades themselves. They have essentially given me an A. What’s left to accomplish?”

  “I think getting the grade is great, but you could always do better,” he said.

  I scoffed. “Yeah, right. There is nothing better. I won. I aced the test. I’m trying to figure out what the point of moving forward is. I could take a bundle of money and walk away. I could live in France and visit my collection every damn day. I could go to every museum in the world. I would have no obligations. Nothing. Can a guy really say no to that?”

  “A guy can say no to whatever he wants,” he answered. “No one can force you to do anything. Especially you.”

  “It’s a big deal. I have sent over everything to the lawyers to comb through. I don’t want to miss something in the fine print.”

  “Wow,” he replied. “You are serious.”

  “I am. I have to be. Like you said, this isn’t the kind of thing that comes along often. This is a big deal. I need to do my due diligence.”

  “It is. What does the girlfriend think?”

  For a brief moment, I smiled thinking about Mae. “The girlfriend doesn’t really have much to say to me right now.”

  He groaned. “Oh my god, what did you do now? Did you try to buy her place again? Did you offer her place up to the Louvre as well?”

  “I did none of those things. In fact, I still have the proposal she sent me sitting right here. I haven’t touched it. I think we both want it to go away. At least, I know I do. Did. I don’t think it matters. I screwed up this time. It is going to take a small miracle to get back in the woman’s good graces again. That’s if her family will let me close enough to apologize.”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” he said.

  “While we were in Paris, she got a call. Her father passed away. It’s a long, complicated story, but she has nothing to do with him. She is currently guardian to her younger sister.”

  “I’m sorry. That is rough.”

  “She wanted to go home right away,” I began to explain. “I told her we would leave first thing in the morning after I spoke with Gino.”

  He was quiet. So quiet I thought maybe he hung up. “You didn’t,” he breathed.

  “I realize it was wrong now, but in the moment, I didn’t understand the big rush to get back home. She couldn’t change anything.”


  “You could have done your business over the phone,” he pointed out. “You have a jet. You could have postponed your meeting.”

  “I know. I know. I fucked up. Not to mention, her brother knows now, and he isn’t happy.”

  “I’m truly sorry,” he said again. “I know you are really into this woman. You love her and that isn’t something that comes along every day. I don’t know how or if you can fix it, but damn, I hope you try.”

  “If I take the deal, I will have all the time in the world to beg for her forgiveness.”

  “Yes, but if she doesn’t accept your apology, where does that leave you?”

  “Fucked.”

  He chuckled. “Tyson, you aren’t perfect. I have a feeling she knew that already. Just do what you can. Be humble. Be honest. Let her know you have faults and you will work on them. And for the love of god, quit fucking up!”

  “Gee, I wish I would have thought of that.”

  “I hate to leave you hanging in a rough time, but I do have a meeting I need to get to.”

  “Yeah, no problem. I will talk to you later.”

  “Good luck and don’t make a hasty decision. You have time. If they can’t give you time to really mull things over, fuck them. This is too important to rush.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I put the phone down and cradled my head in my hands. There was a lot of moving pieces happening. Usually, I felt very in control of my life and what was happening. Just then, I didn’t have the control. I did, but I didn’t. It felt like I was being attacked from all sides. I wasn’t used to upheaval. I was used to my familiar, mundane life.

  I missed the days when Alec worked down the hall. I missed the days when I could pack a bag and set out for some dark corner of the world in search of a cool relic with no worries about who might be missing me or who I missed. My life was different now. I thought I was ready for the new changes and then all of this happened.

  I was completely lost in thought when I heard a soft knock on the door. “Mr. Helms?”

  I looked up to see my secretary poking her head in. I didn’t understand the woman’s thing about not opening a door all the damn way. “What is it?”

  “You told me to remind you when it was time for the meeting with your lawyer,” she said in a soft voice as if she was afraid to spook me.