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Spoken like a true man. I’d given him an out and he grabbed onto it as quickly as he could. My poor father was trying to be a rock of support to me, but he just didn’t have the right equipment, a vagina of course, to do it.
He did everything well, but again, he was a man, and he was not my mom.
Despite his sweet offer to help me unburden my worries, if he knew the real reason for my depression right now, then “sweet” would be the last thing my dad was. He would want Mr. Ivanhoe’s balls and probably his neck, too. Repeatedly.
There are many things I can share with my father, but tonight’s escapade was definitely not one of them.
And my tears were just that much closer to spilling over.
I hauled myself into the shower after saying goodbye to him. As soon as I was under the warm spray, I let the tears loose in a torrent that did little to cleanse the stains that shone on my soul. I had been weak tonight just as I had been weak before. Nothing much had changed in me. I was still the same.
And that dirt just wasn’t coming off.
MY roommate was annoyingly early the following morning when she called. I woke feeling like the zombie apocalypse had found me in the night. Becoming a zombie might just be the answer to my prayers, I thought wryly.
“Hello?” I managed, fumbling to silence the shrill of Brynne’s ringtone drilling into my frontal lobe, having to do it by touch since my eyes weren’t going to function until I got my reading glasses on.
“You won’t believe what I’m staring at,” she gushed.
“Do you know what time it is—because I sure do and I’m sure it’s time for me to be sleeping.”
“Sorry, Gab, but I had to. You would be drooling if you could see this…oh…midcentury Mallerton looming not a foot from me. I could rub my hands all over it if I wanted to.”
“Better not do that, Bree. Tell me,” I demanded, suddenly somewhat interested in the topic that thrust me into wakefulness.
“Well, it’s probably about seven feet by four, and gorgeous as hell. A family portrait of a blonde woman and her husband, and their two children, a boy and a girl. She’s wearing a pink gown and pearls that look like they belong in the Tower’s crown jewels collection. He looks like he’s in love with his wife. God, it’s beautiful.”
My mind started processing what she described but it didn’t sound familiar to me. “Hmmm, I can’t place it offhand. Can you ask if it’s all right to take a picture and send it to me?”
“I will, as soon as I meet someone I can ask.”
“Can you make out his signature?”
“Of course. It was the first thing I looked for. Bottom right, T. Mallerton in those distinctive block letters of his. It is, without a doubt, the real deal.”
“Wow.” I tried to imagine what she’d just described and wished I could see.
“Is everything okay with you? Last night was insane and I never saw you after that alarm went off. I wasn’t feeling well and Ethan was in high-stress mode from some other stuff that happened.”
“Like what other stuff?”
“Umm, not really sure yet. Some weird message on my old phone came through when Ethan had
it on him. The person sent a crazy text and the song from…ah…that video they made of me.”
“Shit, are you serious?” I felt for my friend. She’d been through hell because her douchebag boyfriend from years ago happened to be the son of the new running mate of the anticipated next United States president. Her ex had made a disgusting sex tape of them back when they were teenagers, and now Brynne was a potential target, because nobody wanted that video to resurface. Not the senator candidate, and not Brynne either. That video had nearly destroyed her at one time. Her boyfriend, Ethan Blackstone, ran a security company and had her well protected now, but I could only imagine how paranoid he was after the bomb threat last night, and now some creepy anonymous text to Brynne’s phone.
“Yep. I am afraid so,” she said dismissively.
“No wonder Ethan was stressed, Bree. Why aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I just want to believe nobody is after me and that this is just some kind of blip on the radar that will go away when the election is over. Trust me, Ethan is all over it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s good someone is,” I grumbled.
“Hey,” she asked, “you didn’t answer my question. Are you okay? Last night was so messed up. I know we exchanged texts and no damage done, but still…”
I didn’t know what to say to her. And the truth was I wasn’t okay. I couldn’t very well tell her I’d gotten busy with a hot guy I’d never met before. She’d be horrified as she should be, and I just couldn’t make her uncomfortable by sharing. Brynne was too sensitive and sweet and she just wouldn’t know what to do with information like that.
