by Jayce, Aven
Cove walks further into the kitchen and places his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Dad, look at me.” The expensive dress clothes his father wears can’t veil the tormented look that’s fixed on his face. That’s something my father never understood. Money, cars, a mansion, women; these were all things that made him feel powerful, but didn’t change the fact that he didn’t have a heart. No amount of money or material possessions could have changed that. And now here, before us, Cove’s father has shaved, showered, and put on a nice suit, and even though he looks renewed, he’s still suffering from the past. I don’t believe anything will change that, not for a very long time.
“Dad, I love you,” Cove says in a soft voice to his father. “You did protect me. You kept me alive. Always remember that, especially when you start feeling this way. You kept all of us alive by doing what Paul told you to do, and you went to prison, never saying a word, never opening your mouth in the courtroom, all so we wouldn’t be killed. You did protect us. Paul used all of us to make him money, that’s all we were good for; he was empty and never had compassion for anyone, not even his own daughter. That man never experienced love or valued human life, and I’m sure he was jealous of our family; he must have been. You’re better than him. He didn’t win, Dad. We did,” he pauses and smiles at his father.
“We have one another, but Paul? He had no one. We feel love and we share our love with others. Paul never experienced that. We understand what it means to have empathy. I understand how you must feel, and I’m hurting right now because you’re full of sorrow and pain. The word empathy didn’t even exist in Paul’s vocabulary. You taught me all of those things, and I’m who I am today because of you. Don’t ever feel worthless.”
“Son, when did you become a man?” his father chokes up and holds back his tears. “I think you just chipped away part of the weight that’s been dragging me down, you have no idea how much those words mean to me.”
“I wish I could say I was as level-headed as you think I am, but if you ask Sophia, she’d probably have something different to say. I’ve made some significant mistakes lately, and I’m ready to correct what I can, and move forward,” Cove winks at me.
“I believe it’s time for all of us to sit down and talk,” he motions for his wife to come close to him. “I had a dream that my first night out of prison would be spent in luxury, with a lavish meal at a five-star restaurant, surrounded by my family in their best clothes, everyone made up, laughing, and Jameson Industries never mentioned again, but that’s not reality. What we need is the Everton family tradition of ‘fort’ night, without the fort.”
“Fuck yeah,” Cove shouts like a ten-year-old.
“The pizzas are already ordered. It’s time to initiate Sophia into one of our family traditions, and for all of us to bond and talk openly with one another once again. No one in this room will have any secrets when morning comes. I want to know everything.”
“What’s fort night?” I ask in eagerness after seeing Cove’s reaction to his father’s suggestion.
“Cove, get Sophia ready. We have many long hours ahead of us, and I have some immediate questions that need to be answered. There’s no reason for the two of you to be so dressed up if we’re not going out. Put on something comfortable and warm you can lounge in. I’m going to bring my family back into a functional state, and that includes myself. We’re going to talk until there’s nothing left to talk about.”
Cove grabs my arm and we hurry back to our place, up to the third floor, and into what must be his bedroom... our bedroom. He hands me a pair of red and black flannel bottoms that are obviously too big for my body.
“Just pull the drawstring tight and roll the cuffs,” he says as he slides into a pair of grey silk pajama bottoms and a black robe. My eyes explore the room, a place I’ve never set foot in, and it’s just as extravagant and full of luxurious furniture and dark fabrics as the rest of the home. I still feel sick to my stomach that the Everton’s wealth is deep-rooted in my father’s business. Or was. I know they have the Dark Scarlett wine bar now, and Leondra being an artist and photographer probably makes them some money, but still, much of what’s around me came from Jameson Industries.
Cove places his hands on my shoulders and snaps me out of my daydream. “Hey, Baby. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to finish showing you around your new home. I heard the tension in my parent’s voices, and needed to make sure everything was okay in their place. I’m worried that something could still happen to us, or to them, so I’ll be overreacting to certain things such as a looming argument for a while. You okay?” I nod, wrap my arms around him, and he lifts me up into a giant hug. “Do you mind putting your tank and hoodie back on from earlier?” he asks while giving me a kiss. “My shirts will run down to your knees. You could probably wear one of them as a dress. I’ll take you out shopping for some new clothes tomorrow night.”
“No problem. So this fort night thing...”
“Oh, yes. It’s something from my childhood. Have you ever made a blanket fort before?”
I nod my head no.
“Many kids do, I’m surprised that... well, did your parents ever...” he sighs and starts again. “Have you ever set blankets and sheets over furniture and crawled underneath like it was a secret hiding place?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you ever see kids on television, or in movies, or read about it in a book?”
“I never really watched television, and no to the rest.”
“That’s unusual,” he says under his breath. “Kids do it for fun, as play, but in my family when I was very young and had a problem, either at school or with my parents, they would sit me down at the dining room table and try to talk things out. It was never comfortable, and not just emotionally, I mean physically as well, especially if it lasted more than a few minutes in those hard wooden chairs. Sometimes I would run off and hide so I wouldn’t have to open up to them, and I hated to sit in discomfort. I’d slide under the table, or disappear behind the couch, and other times I’d conceal myself in my closet or take cover in my bedroom under my blankets. I suppose I was embarrassed or felt humiliated for making a mistake. I was a perfectionist back then, and in my mind I felt everything that happened was my fault.”
“You still think everything’s your fault. You know that, right?”
“I suppose,” he hesitates. “So one evening my father and I moved the living room furniture into a tight circle and threw sheets over everything, creating a tent, a hide-out, that I happily scuttled into. We started out playing board games, then we read books together, and my mother brought us snacks throughout the evening. It was one of the most wonderful evenings of my life... and I started opening up to him, on my own. I talked to him about a fight I had been in at school that day, something I’m sure he was fully aware of, and I told him how I felt, and why it happened. I was comforted in my own private space and not theirs. It was like the inside of a womb, or a nest. This probably sounds completely ridiculous to you.”
“No, just the opposite. Keep going.”
He runs a hand through his hair and we head down the stairs to the first floor. “So anyway, after that night, my father would set up a fort whenever he wanted to have a heart to heart with me about something, and eventually I started to set it up on my own when I wanted to open up to him. After a while, my mother would join us, and then it became a monthly tradition. We would spend an evening together, the three of us, playing games, and discussing our problems. They would tell me theirs, and I would talk about mine, then they would voice their concerns to me about things in my life, and so on. It was a way we bonded as a family, a way we stayed close in my early years... but once NOVA started,” he pauses. “I didn’t want to talk anymore, and neither did my father, and we knew we couldn’t in front of my mother. Whatever we said after that point would be a lie to keep her from harm, but before that, it was beautiful. So now, if we’re going to spend the night opening up to one another and asking each other difficult
questions, I understand why my father would want to do it in reference to that family tradition. He presented it this way to comfort me... and my mother. There won’t be a fort, of course, but the openness, comfort, and safety will be.” I’m quiet as we approach his parent’s penthouse with our hands clasped tightly together. “Still okay? You’re very quiet.”
“Yes. Just depressed, constantly up and down with my emotions. Do families really do things like this?”
“Some do, yes. You will now, and that’s what this is about. Be honest about everything, tell us what’s going on deep in your heart and your mind, we’ll listen and help you work through it. That’s the point. You’ll feel like a new person in the morning, trust me.”
I’m thrilled to see Lewis jump off his cat condo and run up to my feet as we enter the living room. He rolls upside down and stretches his paws up in the air as a warm greeting to his mama.
“Oh, my baby boy!” I squeal in delight needing this immediate revitalization in spirit. “Baby, baby, baby purrrrsian!” He lets out a soft meow as I lift him into my arms for hugs and kisses. “I’ve missed you, beautiful little kitty.” He kneads my chest and butts his head under my chin. “You look healthy and you’ve been brushed. What a good boy.” He squirms out of my arms and scurries back to his condo to stare out into the city night. He loves to cuddle, but it has to be his idea, and he’ll let you know when it’s time, not the other way around.
Mr. Everton steps out of the ground floor bedroom in black cotton sleep pants and a St. Louis Cardinals t-shirt that disappears when he ties his black robe around his waist. “So that’s everything about Devery?” he questions Leondra, who sends him a nod and a smile.
There’re pizza boxes and paper plates on the coffee table and the four of us sit on the sofas, each with a glass of wine in our hands; Leondra snuggles close to her husband and I lean against Cove while Lewis goes from lap to lap, looking for the most comfortable set of legs onto which to curl up into a little ball. He finally settles into a small spot between Cove’s parents and begins to bathe. We eat dinner and laugh with one another, pouring a second, and then a third glass of wine before the heavy conversation begins. I don’t mention Cove’s drinking, not on a night like tonight. It’s another excuse, I know, but a good one. His father’s home. We all are. We can go ahead and celebrate with a bottle of wine, but if the hard liquor comes out, I may need to say something.
“Let’s start with an easy question, now that we’re all relaxed and the wine has taken some of the edge off,” Mr. Everton says, eyeing his son. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with your foot.”
“That’s not an easy question,” he replies.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with his foot,” I interrupt. “Cove tried to protect me from my father. He snubbed the last bidder in the Keep, and my father punished him for it by slashing his foot almost in two with a switchblade.”
Leondra closes her eyes in distress while Mr. Everton approaches us and lifts Cove’s leg to examine the bottom of his foot. He pulls off his sock and flinches at the sight. “My God, son. I’ve never seen so many stitches, and they’re all over the place, some aren’t even where you were cut.”
“Another bad stitch job, thanks to Trey,” Cove mumbles.
“Tomorrow,” his father points at him and then lowers his foot. “Make an appointment to get those removed and new ones put in, by a real doctor. You got it?”
“I’ll make sure of it,” I say.
“No, I’m fine. I’m not going through that again.”
“No arguing,” I retort. “Not over something like this. I’ll make the appointment and we’ll go first thing in the morning. That’s final.”
“Thank you, Sophia,” his father smiles at me. “I like her Cove, she’s not afraid to set you straight. And now, to move on, as usual that question has led to another. What were the two of you doing in the Keep? Cove, you haven’t been involved in online material for years, and Sophia, you’re not...”
“Dad, sit down, let me start at the beginning. This will take a while.” Cove recounts every detail to his father. He tells him about Mera, Blackjack, our separation for two days, my tattoo, the contract, and the two of us marketed as the new main product line, the fights, the forced call to his mother, and his code to her that we were in trouble, the Keep, Devery and the gunshot, my father’s constant shifts in personality, Dayne’s violence, being drugged, the party, Patrick, the final two gunshots, the discussion with the detective at the police station, and his childhood clothing in a box. His mother covers her ears for some of the conversation as his father clenches his fists and shakes his head in anger and disbelief.
“Is that everything?” he asks.
“That’s most of it,” Cove replies after speaking for an hour. “Originally, I just wanted to make Sophia happy, get Mera back for her, and set things right with Paul so you would be safe in prison, but then one thing after another kept happening, and we became trapped. My last resort was to inform Mother that things weren’t going as planned, but I never thought she’d fly out with the intention of killing Paul.”
We look at Leondra who agrees it wasn’t exactly her best decision, but we also understand how she got to that point.
“My lovely wife,” Mr. Everton takes her in his arms and sets a light kiss on her mouth. He presses his forehead against hers and rubs his hand on her cheek. “Trying to save us all. Thank God you’re okay.”
Leondra pours herself another glass of wine and places her feet on the sofa next to her husband. She has her camera next to her and has been capturing the emotions in the room throughout the night. One day I’ll see these moments, our faces full of laughter, tears, heartache, anger, and joy. “We owe our lives to Patrick and Devery, they saved us,” she says in a toast to her family. “And cheers to all of us as well. We worked together and kept one another safe.”
“And to Mera Callaway too.” Mr. Everton clinks glasses with his wife.
“What?” I question. “What do you mean by that?”
“Uh-oh,” he sighs and turns to his wife for help with having uttered the wrong words.
“Dad, how do you know her last name? I never mentioned that in our conversation.”
“She was mentioned by the judge in my exoneration. I guess she recorded statements by Paul on her phone; securing evidence from him including his admission to everything with regard to NOVA, my case, and most likely other things as well. Both Mera and Patrick beat Paul at his own game, and I believe they were able to slip in because neither one was seen as a threat. Especially Patrick, who was weak, damaged, and never taken seriously.”
“Why did she do that? I’m confused by all of this.”
“She probably really did love you, Soph. Just because she found a way to get through school, doesn’t mean the relationship the two of you formed wasn’t real. Think about it, I was hired by your father to watch over you as well, remember?”
“Don’t go there.”
“Well that’s what happened, only I had no idea the woman I was about to meet would steal my heart. The same could have been true for Mera.”
“It’s nice to see these two interacting this way,” Mr. Everton whispers.
“I told you,” Leondra responds. “They’re prefect for one another.”
Cove and I blush and he leaves an affectionate kiss on the side of my head that makes his parents beam with joy.
“I’m happy for you son. You’ve found a kind, smart, caring, and beautiful woman to share your heart. This day... from waking up in a cell this morning, to having all of you around me this evening, I’ve never been happier. This is wealth. I can guarantee there isn’t anyone in this world at this moment who feels as good as I do, or who celebrates life as much as I do.”
Now I understand where Cove’s sensitive side comes from. His father is truly amazing. One of a kind.
Leondra sends her son and me a warm smile from across the room. “Sophia, sweetheart. Would you like to talk about anything t
his evening? We’ve been clearing our heads and processing the unknown for hours, but have neglected to ask you how you’re doing. I know you have a lot on your mind. Can we help?”
I set my wine glass down and massage the back of my neck in distress. “Yes, there’s a lot. Most of which we’ve already discussed and will take me some time to move past, but there’s something else I haven’t mentioned which I’d like to talk about.” Cove places his hand on my thigh and clutches my skin in a supportive yet troublesome hold. “The night of the party, when Cove was drugged and everyone else was busy with my father... umm... Dayne... there was this moment... I didn’t...”
“Sophia, what’s wrong Baby?”
I look down in shame, even though I know it’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why am I blaming myself for this?
“Soph, look at me,” Cove takes my chin in his hand and lifts my head. “You okay?”
I close my eyes and shake my head no, then feel warm tears roll down my cheeks. He quickly brushes them away and kisses my eyelids in a reassuring gesture. “Dayne locked me in a room.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was locked in the theater room and couldn’t get to you.”
“No,” I shake my head. “At the party.”
“What are you talking about? I was with you... wait, you mean when I found you in the bathroom with Devery?”
“Dayne locked me in one of the pleasure rooms with his father because of what happened in the Keep. David wanted his bid and I was stuck.”
“That fucker,” Cove rests his head in his palms for a moment, then stands and paces in front of me in anger. “What else? Did he touch you?”
“He was about to, he took off his belt and I heard him unzip his pants, but I had a panic attack and threw up on his foot. Then Devery walked in and slapped him. She saved me and pulled me into the bathroom.”
