by Jayce, Aven
“Yeah,” Cove laughs, squeezing my hand. “You did.”
“Well then, ‘what the fuck’ is the phrase of the day,” Wayne replies with a grin. “So Lydia, what the fuck do you want to talk about?”
Cove and I chuckle at Wayne’s non-stop comedy routine as Lydia sighs. I sense something’s wrong.
“I wondered why you showed up at my door last night so I called your mother to make sure everything’s okay.”
I watch as Cove’s about to take a bite of his scone, but stops and slowly puts it back on his plate. He brushes the crumbs off his fingers and sits back, holding his coffee in his hand.
“Your mother told me about your father and the fight at the prison. She said you needed to get away on a little vacation. I’m so sorry to hear what happened. Are you doing okay?”
Thank God. She doesn’t know. Cove’s quiet and doesn’t respond to her question. He nervously looks around the room. I can only assume he feels like my father still has eyes on him.
“Oh, Cove. I’m sorry! I just realized that Sophia…”
“It’s fine. She knows about him,” he says. “And I’m fine. I came out here for a few reasons. Getting away from what happened to my father isn’t one of them. If anything, I’d rather be home and close to him at this time.”
He sounds aggravated that his mother explained things in such a way. I sip my coffee and try to remain a fly on the wall.
“Don’t push it Lydia. Let him enjoy his time with this lovely woman by his side.”
“Cove.”
“Lydia, I mean it,” Wayne asserts. “Every time he comes here you push him into these conversations.”
“I’m worried. I know what happened to his father must have something to do with those bruises on his face.”
I look at Cove, happy to see that the marks are barely visible, and glad Lydia didn’t see his face a few days ago.
“If you haven’t noticed, Sophia, my wife is quite the snoop. Don’t be surprised if she hasn’t already looked you up online and has some questions about your life. Although, I don’t believe we’ve gotten your last name yet,” he says, with a hint for me to divulge more information. “My wife would make a good private investigator. I feel as though I’ve spent half my life on the couch watching those CSI shows with her. I think she may have been a detective in her past life.”
“Oh, Wayne. Stop it. I’m just a concerned Aunt who wants the best for her family… and some answers. My nephew doesn’t just show up on my doorstep with a pretty woman at his side, and a bruised face, unless something’s going on in that business. Sophia,” she turns and looks at me. “Do you work for Paul Jameson?”
Wayne’s silent, looking at me, then at Cove. I look at the three of them and then clear my throat, trying to break the silence. “Cove and I came out to find my best friend, she’s in trouble, mixed up with the wrong…”
“Sophia.” Cove stifles me. “Not another word.”
“Let her speak, maybe we can…”
“Enough,” he stands and nods for me to follow. “I appreciate the kindness and the warmth you’ve given us, but I think we need to go. We have a lot to do today.”
“Cove, sit down,” Wayne orders. “Both of you sit.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, taking my arm as he hurries us to the front door. “I know you mean well, but I’m not going to discuss my business life with the two of you,” he says, whisking me out front.
“I knew it, I knew Paul was involved. It was too much of a coincidence that you and your father were beat up at the same time.” Lydia yells. “Oh God, Cove, don’t you dare leave this house!”
Wayne races out the door behind us and takes hold of Cove’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t get your girlfriend involved. Let us help you.”
He releases my arm and places his hand on his uncle’s, pauses for a moment before brushing it away. He walks to the car, as I look at Wayne, confused as to what to say or do. Maybe they can help us.
“Sophia,” Wayne says. “Be careful around Paul Jameson. Make sure you’re never alone with him. Stay close to Cove.”
“He’s my father,” I whisper.
Cove yanks my arm and pulls me away from his uncle. I watch as Lydia leans against the door to their home and Wayne stands aloof in their driveway. His eyes are blank, his mouth slightly open. He doesn’t move. Not an inch as we pull onto the street and disappear down the road. I imagine he probably stood there until his wife dragged him into the house. I don’t believe she heard who I am, nor will he tell her.
“Maybe they can…”
“No.”
“Cove,” I say, giving him a dirty look. “I just can’t…”
He slams the brakes and jerks the parking brake up. In a split second he’s out of his seat and around the front of the car. He hits the hood and then opens my door, pulling me out and pinning me between himself and the vehicle.
“Look at me,” he shouts. “Look at my face.” He takes my hair in his hands and pulls my head back, his eyes inches from mine. “You need to stop being so ignorant. I’ve been tortured by your father, people have disappeared from his company, my father sits in prison because of him, and I’m not… let me repeat that,” he yells. “I’m not going to bring any more relatives into this shit.”
My bottom lip trembles and my eyes blur as tears swell. Cove sighs as he sees the first drop run down my cheek. He wipes it and looks up at the sky, forcefully exhaling and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Shh. Don’t,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head. “I can’t lose anyone else, Sophia. I can’t. All I can think about right now is you. If this is going to work, I can’t be distracted by my family.” He steps back and wipes another tear off my cheek. I watch him frown and his brows furrow, saddened that he was so aggressive. “I’m such an ass.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. Next time just knee me in the nuts again, okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t get off that easy. Next time I walk away and I won’t look back. I don’t allow men into my life who are abusive. If you hurt me again I’ll cut off that dick of yours. Plus, you’ll never have another chance to touch this beautiful body or look at my beautiful face, ” I sneer, sliding back into my seat. He closes the door and rushes to the driver’s side.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Where to now?” I ask, ignoring his apology, a little more than irritated by what just happened.
“Hotel. I want to shower and change my clothes.”
“Me too.”
“Well, remember, no sex today.”
“I’m not worried, I can control myself,” I snicker. “How ‘bout you?”
“No problem, Baby.”
“Then what?”
“I’d like to go to the EHM.” He watches my reaction out of the corner of his eye, but I haven’t a clue as to what he just said. I shrug and he laughs. “It’s the Erotic Heritage Museum.”
“Ha, gee that sounds like fun,” I say sarcastically.
“I want to have an old fashioned tourist kind of day with you. You know, museums, landmarks, whatever we come across that’s interesting. I’ve always wanted to go to some of these places, but never wanted to go alone.”
“Why?”
“It’s not as much fun I suppose,” He keeps one hand on the wheel and places the other on my leg, rubbing it gently. I smile, unable to stay angry with him for long. “I haven’t had a vacation, a real vacation since I was a kid. It would make my day if the two of us could just explore. You game?”
“Absolutely. It’ll be like the educational trip I never had a chance to take with my family.”
“Well, most parents wouldn’t take their children to this museum, although…”
“Don’t say it.”
We both laugh, lightening the mood. I notice the streets are somewhat congested.
“Since it’s a Sunday I assume all
these cars are headed to church. Do people still do that on Sunday mornings? Maybe you can watch it on YouTube now instead of sitting on those hard pews. Have you ever been to church?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Not once?”
“Nope.”
“Have you ever been curious about it?”
“Nope.”
“Well, okay then. Are you worried about going to hell?”
“No, are you?” he asks, obviously questioning the conversation.
“No. But I think all these people on the road right now are headed to church because they’re worried.”
“I’d say they’re either on their way to work, or on their way home after a long night at the casinos. Rush hour happens on the weekends too you know. It’s not just a Monday through Friday thing.”
“Maybe we should go to church.”
“What? Sophia, really?” he says, shaking his head. “Why would you want to do that? When was the last time you went anyway?”
I think back to my childhood. My mother used to drag my brother and I kicking and screaming to services, but not every week. I hated it, but I did go again on my own as a teenager.
“It was quite a few years ago.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah, but for the wrong reason. I’ve never gone to church for the right reasons.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Well, when I was very young we used to attend as a family, only my brother and I didn’t understand it. We would talk to each other and play games and my mother would constantly hush us. She said we were supposed to ask for forgiveness for our sins, but as a kid I didn’t think I possessed any evils, and I was probably right. I mean, come on, children don’t have sins. My mother also told us to listen to the sermon but I could never follow it, I was just too young. Church is not for children.”
“Is that a slogan? Church is not for children?”
“No, but it should be. Anyway, I went again when I was around sixteen. I heard that if you pray, your prayers might be answered. I was having a rough time so I decided to sit through one of the services and repeat the same sentence in my head over and over again for the entire hour. I didn’t move or think of anything else, just that. I thought that if this whole thing’s real, an hour of prayer would get me somewhere. Right?”
“So, what happened?”
“It didn’t work. The whole thing is just a business.”
“Well, duh. I guess you gave them some money too?”
“Yeah.”
“So what did you repeat in your head when you were there for an hour?”
“Please God, please. Just bring John Miller back to me and I’ll come to church every week. I promise, just make him want to be my boyfriend.”
Cove laughs, hard. I giggle myself at the absurdity of my request. I mean, John Miller? Who would want to be with that dope now?
“Are you serious, Soph? You actually did that?”
“Well, haven’t you ever asked for anything?”
“Not for a John Miller, no.” He continues to laugh and shakes his head at me. “You’re not supposed to ask for things like that. I don’t think church is the same concept as the North Pole. God and Jesus aren’t like Santa you know. They won’t just bring you presents.”
“Well, they all have long white beards,” I point out, jokingly.
“That’s true. So you prayed to get a boyfriend back? That’s fucked up. What made him so special?”
“I don’t know, I guess he was just there. Like all my relationships that lasted longer than a week, he was convenient, someone to pass the time with, someone who was good with his… well, let’s just say he gave and I took.”
“So you were sixteen?”
“About, yes.”
“So, you’ve been having sex for seven years?”
“Umm, longer than that.”
“Oh,” Cove says like a drone. He’s silent for a moment, as he finds a parking spot in the garage of our hotel. He turns off the car and looks at me, wetting his lips with his tongue. He presses his mouth against mine and places a hand on my breast. I moan and pull away. I don’t want to get too aroused.
“No hands today,” I scold.
“I wanted one last grab. Fictional characters with long white beards really turn me on,” he grins.
“I’m glad I know when you’re joking. Make sure you don’t let anyone else hear what you just said about fictional characters. You’ll piss off Santa lovers everywhere.”
“Fair enough. So tell me why you want to go to church now.”
“I guess I don’t. Like I said, I always went for the wrong reasons, or I didn’t understand it, and I still don’t. I only thought it might offer some comfort.”
“It might.”
“I thought we could ask for protection, for safety, including some for my father,” I say, waiting for a reaction to the last part. He says nothing and I’m glad he let it slide. “I thought if we stop by a church for awhile we might have some kind of defense later on. I don’t know.”
“You mean, like a superhero? That kind of defense?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I see. Well, you don’t need to go to church for any of that. If you think you do, then all the pompous interior decorations those places purchase to impress people works. You’re right. It’s a business. If you’d like, I’ll buy you some candles and a small ceramic Saint statue. Then I’ll wear the hotel room robe and splash some water on your face like you’re being blessed. You can sit on the bed and pray for as long as you like, but I don’t think you have to be in a specific place like a church to do so. That doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s not like we know anyone at these churches anyway, so we wouldn’t be searching for support from the congregation, and I believe that’s another reason why people attend.”
“Okay, I get it.”
“Besides, if you’re not actually religious, you may just piss people off.”
“People?”
“The higher powers that be.”
“Yeah, I suppose if there is a God he wouldn’t want me to come around every seven years with a request and then leave him high and dry, waiting for my utter devotion to him.”
Cove laughs. “No, I don’t think so.”
“So it sounds like you know a little bit about religion, even though you’ve never been to church. Does that mean you believe in God?”
“No, and what I know I’ve read in books or learned from my parents. I was taught that I should be spiritual, but it was my choice as to how I wanted to decipher that. I meditate a lot, mostly late at night in my pool. That’s one way I’m spiritual. It’s always helped me control my anger and deal with the loss of my father,” he says, using his fingernail to nervously scratch at the steering wheel. “My mother went to the synagogue for a few years after he was sent to prison. She said she prays more now than she ever has, mostly for me. My father on the other hand was raised catholic, but I’ve never seen him attend church, and he doesn’t like to talk about it either.”
“I see. Well maybe that’s what I need, to be spiritual.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to believe in God to do so.”
“Umm, not according to Oprah.”
“Well, Oprah doesn’t know everything.”
“Okay, you probably shouldn’t let anyone hear you say that either.”
“So,” he says, letting go of the stirring wheel and taking my hand. “How did this conversation start again?”
“Traffic.”
“We just went through all of that because there were cars on the road?”
“Yup.”
“And that’s why I love you.”
Cove’s phone rings as he kisses my hand. He releases me, aggravated at the interruption. “I know who that’s gonna be,” he says, answering the call. “Hello, Mother.”
She must have heard from Lydia. I can only imagine how that conversation went.
“No, I didn’t tell them,” Cove says. “I won
’t. I’m not going to get them involved. They don’t need to know about the current situation.” He glances at me, picking at the steering wheel once again. “Mother, I wasn’t going to tell them, I left that up to Sophia and it just slipped out in the end. What are they so worried about?” He’s quiet and I wish I could hear her end of the call. “Tell them it’s not like that.”
They must have discussed the fact that I’m Paul’s daughter.
“Well tell them again. She’s on our side,” he sighs, placing his head against the headrest. “I know. But…no don’t do that. I’m not going back there.”
“Ask her how Lewis is,” I request.
He holds his finger up for me to wait. “No, I’m not going to apologize… I have… no. Sophia wants to know how Lewis is doing.”
He places his index finger and thumb over his closed eyes and rubs while he listens to her speak. He gives me a thumbs-up that all is well before he ends the conversation. “I wasn’t changing the subject. I just said I wasn’t going to apologize to him, leave it at that and know that I… no, Mother. It’s going to be fine. I won’t let him separate us,” he says, opening his eyes. “I’ll call you after Paul’s expo. Try and have some fun today.” He hangs up the phone and sighs. “My aunt knows who you are and she won’t leave my mother alone.”
“What do they know about my father?”
“Well, they know what my mother does for the company. And they know that my father’s in prison because of what happened to me, and that your dad set him up, but they have no details, and they shouldn’t. My mother told them years ago what she felt they needed to know. I guess I shouldn’t have taken you over there.”
“I’m glad that you did. And I know why you did. I want a normal life too.”
“Well let’s work on that. How about a shower and then we head out for the day?”
“Yeah, sounds perfect. What are your mother’s plans for the day? I heard you tell her to try and have some fun.”
“She found a box full of trinkets that used to belong to her parents. She’s going to photograph the objects today, probably out in the snow.”
“Why?”
“It’s her way to document things.”
