Enemies and Playmates

by Darcia Helle

  “No one needs me.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  Stephen mumbled something incoherent. His head lolled to the side. His lips parted and a frothy drool dribbled down his chin.

  “Stephen!” Lauren exclaimed.

  He coughed up a small amount of liquid that trickled down his chin and spilled onto his shirt. His eyes rolled back. His body went slack.

  By the time the ambulance arrived, he’d stopped breathing. While the paramedics rushed him to the hospital, his heart stopped twice. Fifteen minutes after arriving at the emergency room, Stephen was pronounced dead.

  Shock set in the moment the doctors stopped working on Stephen. The word dead refused to settle in Lauren’s mind. She didn’t believe them. She kept squeezing Stephen’s hand, begging him to wake up. She wasn’t aware that she had screamed or that tears streamed down her face. She refused to leave his side and couldn’t wrap her mind around the questions the doctor was asking.

  Kara arrived at the hospital, ghostly white and trembling. Lauren didn’t remember calling her, though she knew she must have. They were given time alone with Stephen in the little space separated only by curtains in the midst of the noisy emergency room.

  Hours or minutes passed before they were ushered into a private room with leather chairs where a nurse offered them water or coffee and two police officers sat looking at them through sympathetic eyes. The officers asked questions but the words made no sense. Her brother was dead. She’d been right there with him. She’d watched him die.

  Alex was led into the room. The door closed behind him. The room suddenly got small as her father sucked up all the air around them. He was wearing a bright red tie. A charcoal silk suit he’d had hand made in Italy. Black Salvatore Ferragamo shoes. His gold Submariner Rolex watch. Perfect hair, clean shave.

  Absurd to arrive here looking so put together. Stephen was lying cold and dead in this place with white sheets and gray machines while Alex’s bright red tie mocked them all. Lauren considered ripping that tie off him but then she was remembering the smell of stale whiskey and vomit and the dead stare of Stephen’s eyes.

  Alex spoke quietly with the police. Kara held her face in her hands and sobbed. Lauren realized someone had spoken her name. Her father and both officers were looking at her expectantly. She hadn’t been listening. Wasn’t listening now. How absurd that her father should look so alive. Not a single tear. Not a shred of emotion. A bright red tie while Stephen’s body turned forever cold.

  Alex used his cell phone to make a call. Stephen’s name and bits of conversation floated through Lauren’s mind. Something about the press, no leaks. Kara’s sobs grew louder and Lauren drifted off again. She was vaguely aware of the young police officer sitting across from her, looking sullen and uncomfortable. The older one stood stiff by her father.

  Soon Alex led them from the room, away from the fluorescent lights and out to the parking lot. Sunlight glistened off the pavement. It wasn’t right to leave Stephen in that place, growing colder and all alone.

  They climbed into Alex’s Mercedes. Lauren’s own car was here somewhere. She’d followed the ambulance. Hours ago. Or days. Maybe minutes. She didn’t have the energy to drive herself home or even look for her car in the crowded lot. So she sat in the backseat while her father drove. The sun was shining. Traffic moved all around them. Life went on.

  But Stephen was dead.

  “No one is to know about the overdose,” Alex said.

  Lauren studied her father’s profile. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, wasn’t sure she cared.

  “I’ve arranged things,” Alex continued. “The story is that Stephen was killed in a tragic car accident.”

  “Why?” Lauren asked. For the life of her, she had no idea why she would need to lie about the way her brother died. Wasn’t it enough that he was dead?

  “I don’t want it known that my son was a drug addict,” Alex said. “That type of publicity could ruin me. At the very least, it would make my life difficult.”

  Kara sobbed into a tissue. Lauren stared. The tie was hideous. And Stephen was dead.

  11

  Stephen’s death made the afternoon paper. Her paper. Two paragraphs on the third page. Stephen Covington, age seventeen. Fell asleep while driving his Corvette. Son of Alex Covington, superhero to humanity.

  Lauren tossed the paper on the table in disgust. The article didn’t actually say those words, though it may as well have. Two pathetic lines about Stephen. His manner of death a lie. The rest of the article was about her father, his standing in the community, his accomplishments, his awards.

  Is that all Stephen’s life amounted to? A footnote in the life of Alex Covington.

  As the news circulated, the phone calls began. Lauren answered the first dozen. Her father’s acquaintances, people who worked for him, her coworkers, a couple of reporters. She accepted condolences and resisted the urge to shout the truth. By late afternoon, unable to take anymore, she stopped answering and let the machine take over.

  Captain Barnes was with her father in the den. Her mother had been given a sedative and had gone up to her room not long after they’d gotten home. Lauren hadn’t seen her since.

  Somehow Lauren’s car made it into the driveway. She hadn’t noticed anyone dropping it off, didn’t remember giving anyone her keys. She found her purse on the side table by the stairs. Her keys sat beside it. She rummaged inside and retrieved her cell phone. Two missed calls. One from Carrie, one from Gina. She needed to call her friends, just not yet.

  Lauren trudged up the stairs with the intent of washing her face. Stephen’s open door drew her close. She couldn’t bring herself to step into his room, so she simply leaned against the doorframe. Everything looked the same. But everything had changed.

  She forgot about washing her face, went into her room, and collapsed on her bed. She was enveloped in a haze, the day’s events almost too unreal for her to grasp. When her cell phone rang, she was startled to find it in her hand. The read-out on the caller ID brought her more comfort than she could have expected.

  “Lauren… I just heard,” Jesse stammered. “God, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Lauren said.

  “Was he alone?”

  The image of Stephen gurgling on the couch while she waited for the ambulance brought a sob to her throat. “I was with him,” she said.

  “In the car? Are you all right?”

  “It wasn’t a car accident. That’s not what really happened.”

  After a brief silence, Jesse said, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Yes.” Lauren was surprised at how quickly the answer came. She hadn’t realized how desperate she was to talk about Stephen. To tell the real story. To be with Jesse. She choked back a sob and said, “Can we meet somewhere later?”

  “Want me to pick you up?”

  “No, I’d rather meet you.”

  “Okay,” Jesse said. “I’ll head back to my apartment now. Come over whenever you want.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

  Lauren had no sooner disconnected the call when her phone rang again. Carrie’s number blinked at her. Of course Carrie had to be frantic. It wasn’t fair to avoid her calls. But talking was so difficult, especially when most of what people believed was lies.

  Lauren answered, her voice weary even to her own ears. Carrie’s voice brought on another deluge of tears. They cried together for a few moments. Lauren sidestepped Carrie’s questions, finally telling her friend that she was too wiped out to talk about it.

  “I understand,” Carrie said.

  Carrie didn’t understand at all. But Lauren didn’t say that. Instead she said, “Will you call Gina for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call you both tomorrow.”

  Lauren grabbed clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. With some luck, she’d be able to slip out without her f
ather noticing.

  Lauren had managed to get herself safely to Jesse’s apartment building and was now standing in front of his door. She realized the implications of turning to a man she’d only known a few weeks, rather than her two best childhood friends. But while she’d known Gina and Carrie most of her life, she often felt like the outsider, the one who tagged along on the tail of their friendship. She’d never totally trusted either of them with her emotions. That was through no fault of either of her friends. Maybe they’d simply known each other too long. It was too hard to go back and undo all the lies.

  Lauren trusted Jesse. The reality of that scared her. She’d never let her guard down so completely with anyone. She was always herself with him as she believed he was with her. His honesty made it easy for her to be honest with him, as well as with herself. The word love rolled around behind her consciousness but she refused to acknowledge it.

  She swiped at a tear before lightly knocking. The door opened almost immediately. Jesse wrapped Lauren in his arms and pulled her close. He pushed the door closed with his foot and led her to the couch. He said nothing as he held her trembling in his arms. She rested her head against his chest, felt his heart thumping, and let the tears fall.

  After a few moments, Jesse reached for the box of tissues he’d placed by the couch. He continued to hold her close while he gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then he waited patiently for her to compose herself.

  “Stephen overdosed.” Lauren blurted the words out as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I called the ambulance but they couldn’t save him.”

  “He was at home?” Jesse asked.

  Lauren shook her head. “He’d been gone all night. I went looking for him…”

  “Was he conscious?”

  “Yes. But he was so out of it.”

  “The overdose,” Jesse said. “Was it accidental?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Lauren grabbed another tissue. She sucked in a deep breath, then filled Jesse in on everything from the argument Stephen had with her parents the previous evening to that claustrophobic room in the hospital where her father had calmly stood there in his red tie and changed the facts of his son’s death.

  Jesse listened without interruption. His only response was the tightening of his muscles. Not quite meeting his eyes, Lauren said, “I should have gone after him last night.”

  “That probably wouldn’t have made any difference,” Jesse said. “He was hell bent for self-destruction.”

  “I thought he needed time to cool off and then he’d come home. Just like always.”

  “You can’t hold yourself responsible,” Jesse said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know. It’s his fault. He’s the one responsible.”

  “Stephen?”

  “No,” Lauren said. “My father. He pushed Stephen to it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “My father hated Stephen because he was different,” Lauren said. “Stephen wasn’t my father’s idea of what a man should be. He could never have lived up to what my father wanted or expected. Stephen knew that. He was never allowed to forget.”

  “How did your mom feel?” Jesse asked.

  “She tried to make it up to Stephen. She probably even gave in to him a little too much.” Lauren finally met Jesse’s eyes. The emotion there almost brought her to tears once again. She said, “I used to think Stephen was a tough guy and that the things my father said didn’t bother him. I was so wrong.”

  “Your brother wanted you to believe that,” Jesse said. “He didn’t want to be weak in your eyes.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “You did all you could.”

  “I hate him, Jesse,” Lauren said. “I hate my father. He even had Stephen’s brand new Corvette crushed so there would be no questions about his car later. Every detail taken care of so that his reputation as the perfect man, perfect father, wouldn’t be tarnished.”

  “Your mom went along with that?”

  “Sadly, yes. I don’t think she has the strength to fight him right now. I don’t even know that it matters.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Jesse said. “I wish I could do something to make things better.”

  Lauren closed her eyes. She breathed in Jesse’s scent, felt the warmth of his body against hers. “You are making things better,” she said.

  12

  Dressed in a black tailored Prada skirt and matching jacket, and Manolo Blahnik high heels, Kara had the understated grace and elegance of a high-powered business woman or wealthy heiress. She could be running a business meeting or attending a black tie affair. Instead she was standing beside her son’s closed casket. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks as she ran her fingers over the three framed five-by-seven photos of Stephen.

  Lauren stood a few feet away, marveling at how put together her mother appeared. At least at first glance. No one would see that she was crumbling inside.

  This was not one of those times when Lauren took after her mother. She’d tangled with two pair of pantyhose that morning, tearing them both, before opting for the black slacks and gray sweater she now wore. Stephen certainly wouldn’t care what she wore.

  People would be arriving for the wake in a few minutes. Lauren’s eyes fixed on the casket, her stomach roiling. The silence in the room gripped her like a bizarre magic spell. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. She could only look in despair at the box that held what once had been her brother.

  The mahogany casket, with its glossy polished finish and elaborate platinum handles, loomed large in the cavernous room. They’d run out of space for all the flowers. Sprays, crosses, hearts and wreaths made from roses, carnations, daisies and orchids. All showy and pretentious, just like her father.

  A few minutes passed that way. Lauren and her mother alone with Stephen one last time. Then Alex strode into the room. He wore a black wool suit that Lauren couldn’t remember seeing before. His shirt was crisp white, probably some fancy imported cotton. His solid black tie was held in place by a gold tie clip. His black shoes had been freshly polished, though doubtfully by him. No dark circles beneath his eyes. Nothing to suggest he had any sort of emotional investment. He was orchestrating an event, not attending his own son’s wake.

  Alex stepped behind Kara and put his hands on her shoulders. “People will be arriving soon,” he said.

  Kara shrank from him. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Spare me the attitude today.” Alex straightened his already straight tie. He said, “Remember, Stephen apparently fell asleep while driving. No drugs were involved. No alcohol. Just a horrible accident.”

  “I won’t lie for you,” Lauren said.

  Kara took Lauren’s hand. “It won’t do Stephen any good now,” she said. “Just go along with him one last time.”

  “But -”

  “Please Lauren. I can’t fight right now.”

  Lauren breathed a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

  Jesse arrived ten minutes later. Lauren immediately crumbled into his arms. The tears she’d been fighting came rushing out. She pressed her face against his black silk shirt, breathed in his scent. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

  Jesse wiped her tears with the tips of his fingers. “I wish I could do more than just be here,” he said.

  “This is what I need most.”

  “I want to pay my respects to your mother.”

  Lauren led Jesse to where her parents stood. Jesse took Kara’s hand, squeezing it lightly in his. “I’m so sorry about Stephen,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Kara murmured.

  Alex glared at Jesse. His voice boomed a bit too loud in the otherwise silent room. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Ryder.”

  Jesse met Alex’s stare without flinching. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said simply.

  Before Alex had a chance to reply, Carrie and Gina walked in. They all hugged, tears mingled, soft words were exchanged. Soon the room filled
to capacity. Hundreds of people came to offer their condolences. Lauren shook hands, kissed cheeks. Occasionally she would crumble into Jesse’s arms. He would lead her outside for a few minutes of fresh air and silence. Then she was back in the room with the casket and the flowers and the lies.

  Kevin made a brief appearance. He stood at the casket, stiff in his jeans and sweater. Then he turned and met Lauren’s eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His eyes darted away. He wove through the crowd and quickly exited without a word.

  Nine o’clock finally came. The room emptied. Lauren stood beside her brother’s casket. She brushed her fingers over the wood. A hollowness engulfed her.

  Kara’s painful sobs echoed in the otherwise silent room. She knelt by the casket, mumbling apologies to Stephen. Alex stood beside her, his shoulders straight, his head slightly bowed. No tears fell.

  Jesse led Lauren outside. He held her for a few moments. “I’ll meet you at the church in the morning,” he said

  “You don’t have to,” Lauren said.

  “I know I don’t have to.”

  Lauren leaned her head against Jesse’s shoulder. “You’ve been terrific.”

  “My going to the funeral isn’t going to create more problems with your father, is it?”

  “I don’t care about him. I hate him.”

  “I know.”

  Lauren sighed. “Why do you put up with me?”

  “Because I… it’s easy.” Jesse stroked Lauren’s cheek lightly. “Call if you need me. I don’t care what time it is.”

  Lauren fought another onslaught of tears as Jesse drove away. She didn’t think there could possibly be any tears left within her. Then she went back inside the funeral home to spend a few more minutes with Stephen.

  Kara’s sobs were the only sound during the ride home. Once there, Lauren headed straight for her room. She was halfway up the stairs when her father’s voice bellowed after her. “Hold it!”