by Sophia Gray
“Can I let you in on a little secret?” Antonia said, dropping her voice a little bit so that Cal had to listen harder to make out what she was saying. “Everybody cries. Everybody. Anybody who’s said they’ve never cried is a liar.”
“Really?” Bobby asked.
“Really,” Antonia said confidently. “So don’t worry about it. You don’t have to run to your bathroom to cry. You can cry in front of me and your daddy if you want.”
“He’s not my daddy,” Bobby replied stiffly.
“Right. I’m sorry. Me and Mr. Amos. Cal. You should call him Cal if you want,” Antonia said. “You can cry in front of us if something is wrong, and we’ll try to help you feel better.”
Bobby sniffled a few times, probably considering her suggestion for a long moment before he finally spoke again. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure,” Antonia said.
“I have bad dreams. All the time,” Bobby said in a hushed whisper. “Mommy said to stop talking about it, so don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”
“What happens in your bad dreams?” Antonia asked.
“I don’t—I don’t know,” Bobby replied. It was clear from the awkward, stilted way he spoke that he was lying, but Antonia didn’t push the issue.
“Okay, honey. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry about your dreams, though. You can always come to me if something scares you in the middle of the night. Do you know where my room is?”
“Yes,” Bobby said in between sniffles.
“All right. Well, I’ll leave you alone. You can always come to me, though. Remember that,” Antonia said. Cal immediately backed away from the bathroom door, not wanting either of them to realize he’d been listening in the whole time.
Antonia stepped out the next minute, frowning deeply.
“Well?” Cal asked, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door.
Antonia grabbed him by the elbow and led him down the hall to an empty room, waiting until they were safely inside with the door closed before turning to him and hissing under her breath, “He’s having nightmares.”
“And?” Cal asked, confused as to why Antonia’s tone seemed so urgent. Nightmares weren’t a big deal, right?
“Well, I’m pretty sure his mom leaving him is really messing with his head,” Antonia said in a rough whisper. In the darkness of the empty bedroom, she was a shadow among other shadows, but if Cal squinted a little he could make out the fire in her eyes, the passion that seemed to simmer underneath her skin. “I don’t think he would have told me about the nightmares unless they were happening a lot, or unless they were really bad. I think it’s a problem, Mr. Amos.”
Cal was a little weirded out by constantly being addressed by his last name. Even his patients called him by his first name. But he chose not to say anything about it. He would feel strange forcing Antonia to use his first name unless she felt comfortable doing so. “How do you know that it’s a recurring problem, though?” he asked. “He could just be complaining about one nightmare.”
Cal saw Antonia shake her head in the darkness. “No, he’s not like that,” she argued.
“How would you know?” Cal asked. “You only met him yesterday.”
He could tell even by Antonia’s long silence that he’d fucked up somehow by saying that, even though he’d only pointed out the truth. Antonia finally sighed and backed further away from him, turning around and walking to the bed in the center of the room to sit. “All right, well, I guess you can keep that in mind, but if you want my opinion, just speaking as a mother, I’d look into getting him some help.”
“Help? Like psychological help?” Cal asked.
“Yeah, like a child counselor or something, I don’t know,” Antonia said with a sigh. “He just seemed…really upset. And scared. His mother has taught him not to come to you with his problems, and that’s a bad habit that you need to get him to break as soon as possible.” She paused again, and Cal saw her hang her head low between her shoulders, like the fight had seeped out of her. “If you care, anyway…” she muttered under her breath.
The words stung, but it wasn’t like they were untrue or anything. As far as Cal was concerned, Bobby wasn’t really his son, not in any way that counted. There was no room in Cal’s life for a child, not even one that seemed as smart and sensitive as Bobby.
“You made a mistake in there, you know,” Cal said.
“Oh well, I’m sure I made more than one,” Antonia said, tugging at her hair again with the towel even though by now it had to be mostly dry. “Which one are you referring to, though?”
“You promised him you’d always be there for him,” Cal said. “That’s not true, is it?”
Antonia got to her feet then and crossed the room again, stopping mere inches away from Cal’s face. He was keenly aware of her body, how her chest heaved up and down with her breathing, bringing her just a little bit closer to touching him on every exhale. He realized he could still feel the aftershocks of his orgasm from earlier, the way pleasure had rocketed through his every cell just thinking about Antonia’s beautiful naked body.
“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” Antonia asked, her soft tone contrasting sharply with the visible tension in her shoulders and arms.
“He’s not staying here for good,” Cal said firmly. “I mean it. One way or another, he’s going to be out of this house in a year.”
“Well, maybe I’ll follow him,” Antonia said defiantly, glaring up at him in the darkness for a second before stepping around him to get to the door of the bedroom. “He’s got to have one stable figure in his life, at least.”
She slammed the door hard behind her, leaving in Cal alone in the bedroom with his thoughts.
She was right. Bobby deserved better than him. He deserved to have someone like her. So no matter how awkward it became, how excruciating it might be to have Antonia around and never touch her, Cal was going to make sure she didn’t leave. For Bobby’s sake.
Chapter Seven
Antonia
Over the next few weeks, Antonia got used to living in what was essentially a mansion, complete with a hot tub in the back yard. The best part, though, was being with Daniel and Bobby all day. For the most part, Antonia didn’t see much of Cal, encountering him only briefly very early in the morning or very late at night, and only ever communicating in a very perfunctory, to-the-point way.
Cal would ask, “How’s Bobby?”
And then Antonia would say, “Fine. Look into a counselor yet?”
To which Cal would say, “Working on it.”
In a way, she felt like the house was hers—in a way. She definitely got more use out of it than Cal did. She wondered sometimes what he did with his days, why he had so much money. Maybe he’s in the mafia, she thought to herself with a grin while sipping a late-night glass of wine one evening after she’d put Daniel and Bobby both to bed. No, that can’t be right. He would have a family if he were a part of the mob.
Just then, the front door crashed open, and Cal stumbled through it, cursing under his breath. He was halfway to the staircase before he noticed Antonia sitting on the couch. “Oh. Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked. Before she could offer an answer, Antonia realized that he was clutching his arm to his side.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, immediately putting the glass of wine aside and getting to her feet to attend to her boss.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Cal said, protesting weakly when she tried to touch his arm. “It’s a little sore, that’s all.”
“Looks like more than just a little sore to me,” Antonia said. “Come on, sit down, let me look at it. I used to be in school for nursing, you know.”
“You were?” Mr. Amos asked.
“Yeah, don’t sound so shocked,” she said with a laugh, gently prying the jacket off Cal’s body so she could look at his arm. “Oi, cheese and crackers,” she exclaimed, wincing a little at the sight of Cal’s bruised, bloodied arm. “What the hell happened here?” she asked as she reac
hed out to gingerly touch it, just to see if it was still bleeding. Mercifully, the blood flow had stopped, but the cut was clogged up with clots and mucus.
“Nothing, just a couple guys got on my nerves. Believe me, I got the better end of the deal tonight,” Cal said, gritting his teeth a little as her fingers made contact with his bloody skin.
“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re the big macho man who wins fights, don’t worry,” Antonia said a little mockingly, rolling her eyes but offering him a teasing smile when he looked offended. “Sorry, just trying to make light of the situation. You get into bar fights often?”
Cal hesitated a little before answering the question. “Um, not really. Not so much recently.”
“But you’re getting back into the habit?” Antonia asked, raising her volume so her voice would carry as she got up to grab a first aid kit from the kitchen.
“I don’t know. It didn’t feel too bad, I’ll tell you that much,” Cal said with a half-smile as she returned with bandages and disinfectant for his wound.
“Really? Looks like somebody pulled a knife on you, man,” Antonia said as she attended to the gaping hole in his skin.
“Probably,” Cal said, waving his other arm dismissively as if a knife attack is nothing to be concerned about. “Why aren’t you a nurse instead of a nanny if you went to school for it?”
“Got knocked up,” Antonia said as she began to wind a bandage around Cal’s bicep. “Had to get a job doing data entry to pay for the kid, since his piece of shit father could never be depended on. No time for school.”
“Ever think about going back?” Cal asked.
Antonia shrugged. “I don’t really have what it takes.”
“Bullshit. What does it take, then?”
“Money,” Antonia said with a grin, highly amused with herself, even though she was just telling the truth. “That’s the crucial thing you need to be a success.”
“It definitely helps,” Cal admitted, flexing a little bit to get comfortable as she finished tying up the bandage on his arm. “Thanks,” he muttered, staring down at his lap rather than making eye contact with Antonia.
“No problem,” Antonia said. She reached over to grab her wine and took another few sips to reward herself. “Hey, do you want a drink, by the way? You look like you could definitely use one right about now.”
“Sure,” Cal said, getting to his feet. “I’ll get it, though. You’re not a waitress.”
“Used to be!” Antonia said with a laugh, going up with Cal and bringing her almost empty wine glass so she could get a second serving. “I had several jobs on my travels before I came here. Which reminds me…what do you do, exactly?”
Cal burst into laughter, right in the middle of pouring the wine, so that he spilled a little on the front of his shirt. “Ah, shit,” he groaned. “Oh, well. The red will go with the blood I got on it earlier,” he said with a smile. Antonia thought that she’d never seen him look this light, this free. Maybe fighting really was therapeutic for men.
“What was so funny, anyway?” Antonia asked, holding out her glass so Cal could pour her some wine as well.
“Oh, it’s just that you waited until you’ve been working here for almost a month before you asked me. I never figured you were the shy type.” He finished pouring Antonia’s drink, but before she could take another sip, he lightly tapped the side of her glass with his own. “Cheers, or something,” he muttered before tossing half of his glass down his throat in one gulp.
“Cheers,” Antonia repeated before taking a sip. “I’m not shy. It’s just…I don’t know, to be honest with you, before right this moment, I figured you didn’t want to talk to me for any reason unless it was absolutely necessary. You know, like you’re a very intense guy.”
“What? No, I’m not,” Cal protested, pouring himself some more wine and going to get another bottle for good measure. “I’m a very simple dude, really.”
“Oh yeah? Simple? That why you’re still dancing around telling me what you do for a living?” Antonia said, making a point to raise her eyebrows as high as they could go.
Cal lifted his hands in surrender, smiling and shaking his head at her. “You’re a real interesting woman, Antonia. Nothing gets past you.”
“I’m like a verbal goalkeeper,” Antonia said, laughing at her own lame joke before taking another sip of the sweet wine. “But anyway, I’m not going to let you get away without answering me directly.”
“I didn’t mean to be evasive, really,” Cal said.
“You’re still evading me! Spit it out, god damn it!” Antonia demanded, even though there was a broad smile splitting her face in half. She must have been feeling a little bit looser and freer as a result of the alcohol. It was also nice talking to another adult for a change.
“I’m a therapist!” Cal finally answered, laughing loudly after the words left his mouth. “Well, I’m a physical therapist. I help people recovering from accidents and injuries. I work with people to heal them. That’s what I do.”
“Wow, I would not have guessed that,” Antonia said, staring at Cal harder to try to figure out if he was lying or not. It seemed like the type of thing he would do, lie as a joke. Or maybe even lie just for the fun of doing it.
“Is that an insult?” Cal asked, narrowing his eyes a little suspiciously.
“Hey, you’re the doctor,” Antonia said, smiling so broadly her lips started to ache a little bit. “You should be able to figure that one out.”
Cal sarcastically clapped his hands together. “Wow, you’re so funny.”
“I’ll be here all week,” Antonia said, sipping some more wine even though her head was starting to feel a little woozy. She definitely did not have the tolerance that she used to back in her younger years. “Well, I’ll be here as long as Bobby is, anyway.”
Cal coughed a little awkwardly, tossing back more wine and looking uncomfortable, as if just bringing up the vague deadline he’d set for Bobby’s time here was too much for him to handle. Antonia took the hint and decided not to push the issue, at least for now while they weren’t already fighting each other. She decided to fall silent, focusing on the sweetness of her drink for several long peaceful minutes until Cal decided to speak up again.
“So you were married?” Cal asked.
“Yeah, for a couple years,” Antonia said. “It was…not the best experience of my life, I’ll put it that way,” she added with a laugh. Now she knew for sure that the alcohol was having an effect on her emotional state. She never used to like talking about Paul. In fact it often made her skin crawl whenever a coworker or neighbor or old friend or family member even mentioned him in passing. But for now, she was still comfortable, not raising her hackles in response to any question or comment about her failed marriage. She even…wanted to talk about him, for some reason. It was like she needed to get the words out of her system, releasing them out into the world regardless of their recipient. “He was a total fucking scumbag. Is, not was. He’s not dead, unfortunately.” Antonia sighed and playfully slapped herself on the side of her own face. “Bad girl. I shouldn’t say things like that. He’s my son’s father.”
“So?” Cal asked, scooting his chair a little closer to Antonia’s and dropping his voice, probably in case one of the boys was awake even though the chance of their conversation being heard from upstairs was slim. “Does it make him less of a scumbag, just because he donated some DNA at a crucial point in the kid’s lifeline?”
“I don’t know,” Antonia said with a sigh. “A lot of people in Paul’s life would probably say the same thing about me, and…you know, I’m not a perfect mother, but I try really hard. Maybe from Paul’s perspective, things are the same for him.” She shrugged, blowing out her breath as she thought of all the issues with her ex-husband.
“Well, that sounds like bullshit to me, but I can see you’re trying to be nice, so I’ll let it go,” Cal said, offering her a teasing smile that made her feel a little bit warmer inside even though her mood had fallen
a little bit thinking about her ex. “So what’s the deal with him anyway? Deadbeat dad? Doesn’t have a job? What is it?”
“Sort of,” Antonia said. “He has a job, but he still tries not to pay child support even though he can afford it. He’s a cop. Well, a parole officer, actually.”
Cal paused, his cup suspended mid-air between the table and his mouth, like the new information surprised him for some reason. “Interesting,” he said, clearing his throat. “Go on. Tell me more about him. Why do you hate him?”
“I don’t hate him, I just…” Antonia trailed off, tired of repeating the same line to herself over and over again. “Okay, fine, I hate him. I just can’t say that in front of my kid, okay?”
“Understandable,” Cal said, nodding for her to continue.
“Well, he wasn’t the worst guy in the world. He was nice to me in the beginning, but after a while he just got mean. Maybe because he was frustrated at work, or maybe he just fell out of love with me. I don’t know. I guess that can happen sometimes, for no good reason. He just started being so cruel to me all the time, saying awful things about my weight and how I looked and stuff like that.”
