“What? You’re going to let that asshole have an in?”
“He’s the better choice for her. Not me. Look, I’ve got to go.”
Before I could hit the end button, he announced, “I’m coming down next weekend.”
“No, don’t bother.”
A week ago, I would have been psyched for a visit.
“It’s my birthday and you’re going to fucking spend it with me. So get your head out of your ass and fix this. I’m going to send you my flight information so you can pick my ass up at the airport.”
“You shouldn’t—”
“It’s my party, and you’ll pick me up if I want you too,” he singsonged.
I didn’t want to laugh, but a half of one escaped my throat.
“See you need me. Friday. See you then.”
He hung up before I could utter another protest. I fell back on the couch, tired, in need of sleep. The idea of lying on the sheets where Jess’s scent permeated was too much to handle. I closed my eyes and waited for the alarm on my phone to signal I had to get to work.
After giving Jess’s roommate money for gas and paying for Jess’s cab, I ordered the cheapest option for a ride to the studio seeing my bike and SUV were both parked on a campus lot. It seemed like years since I’d left the locker room to head to the game.
The cab got me to the studio in a timely fashion. When I walked in, I was shocked to see Mara. An involuntary smile found its way on my face. She had her hair in mushrooms on either side of her face. It was reminiscent of Princess Leia from Star Wars.
“What are you doing here?”
Her tight smile was the answer I dreaded. She had an envelope in her hand. I managed to keep the façade of granite on my face as she explained.
“I heard what happened to you. It’s good you’re okay.”
Wasn’t that déjà vu? Jess had almost used the same exact words. I wondered how many more times I would hear it.
“You’ve done amazing work here. And the customers have all been pleased.”
The inevitable but was coming because I was the butt of the joke.
“But my father is afraid with all of the press; it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to continue to work here. You have to know I gave him hell about innocence before proven guilty and all that, but…”
“It’s cool. I understand.” I held out my hand and was amazed that it didn’t shake. I was mad but not at her or her father. They had a business, and my face would be more recognizable and not in a good way. If the wrong person recognized me and linked me to the studio, my fallout could rain out their business. And that was what it came down to, business.
She didn’t hand me my last check. She gripped my shoulders and pulled me into a crushing hug.
“I’m sorry Ethan. This isn’t fair.”
I patted her back to comfort her before took a step back. She pressed the envelope in my hand, and I quickly left not wanting to get emotional about losing a job I enjoyed. I walked down the street and sat on a bench reserved for the bus while I set up another Uber ride. I would have ridden the bus if I had known where the route would take me. I would have to investigate. With no job, I had to conserve cash.
After reaching the flat, I tossed back the two beers before flopping on the couch. I looked at my phone before I did something I knew would only make me feel worse than I already did. I hit send.
When the fourth ring went unanswered, I almost hung up.
“Ethan.”
The voice was raspy and clipped, everything I remembered.
“Mom.”
“To what do I owe the displeasure?”
The boy that wanted his mother to love him cried on the inside and I wiped at the irritation in my dry eyes. “I just wanted you to know that I’m okay.”
“So I hear.”
The sounds of crickets would have been welcome over the oppressive silence that crushed little boy’s hopes and dreams. I thought about my Psych class and wondered if there was a Freudian reason for me to long for my mother show me love just once.
“Look is there any point to this call.”
Yes. “Why do you hate me?”
“Ethan, I don’t hate you. You’re out of high school, and your father is gone. I don’t think I need to put up pretenses any longer.”
I felt slapped. I was sure her words were karma for my harsh response to Jess.
“Is that Ethan on the phone? How could you say that to him?” I heard my aunt say in the background.
“Ethan honey,” Aunt Margaret crooned. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.”
She held more care for me than my mother. It wasn’t much though considering she hadn’t made an attempt to see me in years or even called for that matter.
“She doesn’t mean those things. She’s still grieving for your father. You have to understand.”
She talked more and I listened as she tried to explain away mother’s malcontent towards me. Then suddenly, Mom was back on the phone.
“I need to speak to him. You snatched the phone away,” she chirped in response to my aunt’s protest. To me, she coldly said, “Your grandfather is dying. He’s requested to see you, as you are his only grandchild. You need to see him right away.”
Silence.
“Did you hear me Ethan?” she demanded.
“Yes,” I whispered. I barely knew the man. He thought both his daughters were disappointments because Mom didn’t marry rich, and my aunt didn’t like men.
“You go to him Ethan and make him see reason.”
After that, she hung up. The reason was for me to get him to “un” disown her. Without both Dad’s money and her father’s money, Mom was forced to live a simple life, and she hated it. And a part of me knew I would go and hope I could make him see reason. It was my pressing need to make her happy and maybe make her care two shits about me that would force my hand.
thirty-six
Almost late to weight training, I rushed into the locker room with single-minded purpose. I had no idea how I would be received by the guys. My scholarship kept me focused. With my eyes on that prize, I knew I could weather any storm.
I’d just passed Coach’s office door, which was cracked when he called out.
“Hart!”
Retreat wasn’t an option. I wasn’t sure I was ready for a lecture about fighting with Evans. I took the two backward steps before I placed a palm on the door and slowly pushed it fully open. Coach sat with his arms braced on his desk. There was no hope this wasn’t a lecture of the chastising kind.
“Have a seat.”
“I’m almost late,” I said with a thumb hooked over my shoulder to hold my bag strap from slipping off.
“Sit.”
I did and flounced in the chair. My abuse of furniture was becoming a habit. The chair groaned under my weight. I pressed my lips together deciding I would keep my mouth shut no matter what he said, even if he said it was my fault for the fight.
“You had a hard hit yesterday.”
I nodded.
“We’ve decided it’s in your best interest to sit out for the next two weeks. The university takes concussions seriously.”
Despite my resolution, my mouth fell open. “Training? Practice?”
Coach shook his head. “Everything. Just take the two weeks off. And after that, I’ll contact you.”
He steepled his hands. I broke my rule on remaining mute because the last part about him contacting me was judge and jury.
“This isn’t about the concussion. It isn’t even about my fight with Evans. This is about what they're saying about me on the news.”
“Hart, just do the time and let things cool down.”
His words let me know, like Mara, he didn’t like the edict that was coming from above, but had no choice in the matter.
White knuckled, I grabbed the arms of the wooden chair that had probably been in this office since before it was his office.
“My scholarship?”
“It won’t be affe
cted, no matter the outcome.”
I stood and nodded. I slipped out the building like a thief hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone. I went to the dorms knowing Bear was at weight training and would go directly to Psych class right after. There was another envelope waiting for me on my desk. I left it there while I gathered a week’s worth of clothing. I wasn’t sure what Bear thought or any of the other guys, but no one had tried to contact me. I didn’t blame Bear. We barely knew each other, but we were roommates. It hurt a little that he hadn’t even called to see if I was okay. He, too, probably thought the worse.
After my backpack was full, I took the envelope and all the others I’d carelessly left in my drawer. I should turn them into somebody. I wasn’t sure whom or if I would. However, I wanted to protect the evidence if I decided to open a can of worms I thought long since buried.
I hopped on my bike and went back to the flat. I dropped off my things and sent emails to my professors citing illness from Saturday’s game as my excuse for missing class. Then I got on my bike and headed for my grandfather’s place. I hadn’t been there but a handful of times over the years, yet its location was seared in my memory.
My only grandparent alive lived in Potomac, Maryland on an estate worthy of a king. The sprawling green lawns rolled over the space of a football field as I made my way up the extended driveway, if you could call it that. I parked in front by the fountain that was in the center of the circular drive, reminiscent of Brice’s house but far more grand.
The manicured lawns and gardens must have taken take an army to maintain. I rang the doorbell without preamble. I hadn’t called in advance. I just made the drive while I cleared my head of my misfortune and injustice.
The sounds of bells ricocheted through the house like an echo in the valley of mountains. I had to wonder why one lone man needed so much space. Then again, he probably liked the isolation since he’d so easily exiled his daughters and only grandson from his life.
A clicking sound grew louder as the steps drew near. When the door opened, a woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun filled the doorway.
Before I could speak, she covered her mouth with both hands to hide a gasp.
“Ethan.”
I puzzled over her face while trying to figure out how the woman knew me. I didn’t remember her. She had pleasant features for an older woman. Her dark hair was sparsely marked with several strands of gray that indicated her age. She wore no makeup, but her smile felt kind and not forced.
“I’m here to see my grandfather.” Since she knew me, I didn’t think using his formal name was necessary.
“Yes, come in.”
She stepped back, and I entered a grand foyer. Regal double stairs filled the front entry on either side. The rooms that flanked the foyer were filled with furniture befitting a royal. Museum quality paintings adorned the walls. Though the place had these things, everything felt sterile and empty as if no one lived there.
“He’s on the third floor, follow me.”
She didn’t go up the stairs. Instead, we took a hallway to the right. We walked down about midway, and she pressed a button on the wall. Doors slid open, and I realized it was an elevator.
Her hand came up to indicate I should enter first, but my father had taught me rules like ladies first.
“After you.”
Her smile warmed up several degrees. “Such the gentleman. He would have loved to meet you.”
I picked up on the loved. “Is he…”
“Yes, he’s alive. But he doesn’t have much time. He’s out of it most of the time. The doctor said it won’t be long now.”
It felt like every step I took was quicksand. Why hadn’t I come sooner? Then again, Mom hadn’t told me of his condition until I’d called her. Though, I couldn’t place the blame solely on her. I knew where he lived. I should have come to ask why he hadn’t wanted to get to know me long ago. The answer was easy. After my father died, I felt worthless. The last thing I wanted was to come where I wasn’t wanted.
When the doors opened, I followed the woman down a hall or two. I was in a daze. I’d come on behalf of Mom, but there was nothing I could do now. She would blame me; hate me more than she already did.
We entered a tomb or what could double as one. Ghostly, my grandfather lay in a bed that swallowed up and spit him up in an upright position. The heavy canopy that surrounded the bed felt medieval. With the state of the house, I wondered if the old man fancied himself a king of sorts or maybe a king of torts since he was a former Senator from the great state of Georgia. Funny, he hadn’t moved back after his years of service in Congress ended.
“I’m Charlene by the way. You can sit here. The doctor says talking to him is good. I sit here and read to him from the current events. He loved to be on top of the latest news. So just have a seat and tell him about your day.”
She indicated a chair near the bed. And I found myself taking a careful seat. I couldn’t afford the toilet paper in the place and didn’t want to break anything.
“Would you like a drink? Water, tea, coffee?”
I felt unbalanced and desired something stiffer but as underage as I was, asking the woman for a shot of Patron, wasn’t likely to happen.
“Water is fine.”
She patted my hand while I gripped the armrest unsure of what to do. The gesture, much like the nurse in the hospital had done, was motherly. I wondered if Charlene had kids and if so where they were.
For the longest time after being left alone, I said nothing. I took in the frail man searching for features I inherited, and when that failed, I looked for resemblances to my mother. She had his nose, and with his eyes closed, I wasn’t reminded of the color of them.
Charlene came back and offered me several different water bottles from purified to sparkling, to distilled. I grabbed a regular bottle of Voss from the tray before she moved to set the tray on a side table. I glanced at the other parts of the room, which held large windows. Two were on either side of a grand fireplace. The lawns and garden from the backside of the house were in full view through them.
Startling me, Charlene held out a thick book or album because it was too large to be a simple book.
“He adored you. He watched you from a distance since your mother wouldn’t allow him to see you. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but you should know she used you as a bargaining chip. When she stopped sending pictures, he hired someone to take some.”
Where I should have been shocked that Mom had used me as a pawn, I wasn’t. I couldn’t even muster the energy to get pissed about it. Instead, I was more curious about the last thing she said. “A private detective?”
She nodded. “When he had advance notice of any of your games, he would attend in the background. He had a scrapbook made about events in your life.”
My hand shook slightly when I opened it and saw the truth of her words. There were baby pictures, school pictures, and candid shots I imagined taken by a stranger. How odd? Whoever had done it must have had to disguise himself so he wouldn’t appear to look like a potential kidnapper.
As the years unfolded with each turn of the page, the hurt at the depths of Mom’s hatred towards me baffled even my low self-esteem brain. “Why would she do this?”
She furtively glanced at the man that paid her wages before she gazed at me again. “I probably shouldn’t say these things, but you have a right to know.”
She clasped and unclasped her hands several times as a story spilled from her lips like a bad fairytale.
“Your mother was in college when I began working here. She came home one summer and announced she was marrying your father. The Senator was livid and forbid her to marry him. She, as I would learn, was a strong-willed woman and told her father where he could shove his money. And I know this sounds awful, but his heart was in the right place. Your mother was a potential heiress, and your father was a nobody.”
She flinched at her words and glanced up at me. I shrugged wanting her to continue. How coul
d she know how great my Dad was when Mom had kept us from this part of her life?
“He’d never met him and had no idea if your father wanted your mother for herself or her money. So he disowned her. He served her legal papers that showed she’d been removed from the will. The Senator, however, became impressed when your father didn’t immediately call off the wedding. Not long after the nuptials, your Mom dropped the news of her pregnancy. When the Senator tried to make amends, she was rightfully angry. Still, she didn’t come around unless she wanted something. And she always brought you when she wanted to get her way. I don’t mean to speak ill of your mother. I hardly know the woman. I just know what I witnessed.”
I nodded. “It sounds like her,” I said flatly.
“You should also know that when you had the legal trouble, the Senator secretly paid to beef up your legal team. He also had an account set up in your name since you were a baby, along with a trust to pay for your college tuition.”
When I glanced up at her disbelieving, she said, “Your mother was made aware. However, when you got the scholarship to the University of Penn, the Senator thought either your mother hadn’t shared that information with you or you decided to be your own man. He was so proud of you. He had the lawyers not inform you of the money when you came of age because he wanted you continue down the path of earning your way. He thought that’s where he went wrong with your mother. He did have it set up if ever you were in need, that were you be told.”
“How do you know all this?”
The fact that I was in need wasn’t as pressing. I wanted to understand who the woman was to my grandfather.
“And why do you call him the Senator?” I quickly added.
“I’m his personal assistant. I handle the grunt work of most of his affairs, like scheduling appointments, getting documents signed, filed, etc. So I know what he did and didn’t do.”
She glanced over to the bed with a warm smile.
“As far as my nickname for him, it made him smile. I guess I’ve been calling him that for so long, I forgot. And why I know so much? I’d like to think that with so many years of service, he trusted me with things he’s had no one else to tell.”
Broken Lens Page 19
