There’s really nothing quite like walking into a room and seeing your girlfriend draped across the counter while getting railed by your former employer and mentor. Or feeling her frantically try to get my belt undone to suck my cock at the same time. Jon finished before we did, and while I was surprised that he grabbed me in front of Lydia, I had to admit that felt good. It felt right to have his tongue exploring my mouth. It felt even more right to fuck her throat though, and I wasn’t able to last long after Jon left the room.
Lydia coughed as I eased her back up into a sitting position while rubbing small circles on her back. Her hair was a tangled mess that she worked her fingers through idly, a dazed and lopsided smile hinted on her lips as she glanced up at me. With flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and the faintest hint of little love bite bruises she looked pleased with herself.
“Am I allowed to eat breakfast now without being interrupted?” Lydia asked, hopping off the counter.
“It’s almost noon,” I pointed out. “I know he just got back but why don’t you go see if he wants to grab lunch, we can go find some place on the docks.” As I spoke, I walked around the counter and pulled her to my chest.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement. “I’ll go ask and get dressed. Thank you, Pat.” She leaned up on her tiptoes, her hands clasped in mine and kissed my cheek.
I could see the bounce in her step when she bounded down the hallway and it made me smile to myself. It was good to see her opening back up. Maybe Jon had been right when he said she was unhappy, but we had time to make it up to her now.
While she was gone, I went back to my own room and got changed into a loose tank top and shorts. When Lydia returned, I couldn’t hold back the wolf-whistle at seeing her in the flowy orange sundress that brushed mid-thigh. Combined with the fresh bleach job on her hair she fit perfectly into our little island paradise.
“Jon doesn’t want to go back to town, but I promised to bring something back for him,” she explained while grabbing her purse. “Just us, a little date night.” She shrugged and my heart melted as she reached for my hand to pull me along.
I love seeing you like this, I forgot what it was like. We rode back to Nicholls Town in relative silence, Lydia leaned against my shoulder and held my hand tight in hers. It felt both familiar and foreign to be like this with her again, in some ways it was like being back in New York in the back seat of the Maybach.
We couldn’t stay in the Bahamas forever, I couldn’t keep drinking my weight in beer every night but I sure as hell wanted to if it meant that we could have a repeat of that kitchen performance. By the time we reached the mainland I was almost ready to fuck her again in the boat. We had to make up for eight weeks of celibacy after all. Restraint wasn’t my strong suit but I managed to keep myself civil and presentable while we walked down the pier, my hand slowly drifting down from her waist to her hip.
Nicholls town was tiny, less than seven hundred people lived here fulltime, but it was quaint and had great food. We found a bar serving fresh caught fish and grabbed a table, I made a point of ordering something non-alcoholic.
Lydia reached across the table to grasp my hand. “I don’t know what you said to him, and I have no idea what’s gotten into the two of you suddenly but thank you again. It’s good to know that I’m not a burden for you guys.”
I squeezed her hand reassuringly and lifted it up to kiss her knuckles. She blushed but didn’t pull away. “Stop thanking me for getting my shit together, sweetheart. Jon and I haven’t apologized to you nearly enough.”
She smiled and I caught the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, but after my doctors visit in New York and then TMZ… I don’t know what to say but it just happened so fast…”
It was cliched, but I remembered my mother telling me that she didn’t want a baby until she was pregnant with me and that’s when she knew she wanted to be a mother after all. It was the same for me with Lydia, before she told me what happened the idea of having a child wasn’t high on my list of things to do – I mean, it was on there, but it wasn’t anything close to a priority. But now? Now I felt robbed that she could’ve been pregnant and wasn’t. I didn’t give a shit if it was Jon’s or mine because I wasn’t going anywhere, I just wanted to do this with her. With him too, if I was honest with myself. And maybe it would have hurt less to know that she willfully made the choice to end it, but she didn’t, she couldn’t.
In my head I could still hear her crying on the jet when we left New York, I could still hear the faint sound of her voice on the other side of the wall as she talked to an emergency mental health line when we got to the house. I had ignored her at her most vulnerable time, Jon and I both had, I was shocked that she was even still speaking to us, let alone willing to be intimate. No matter how much money I had, no matter what I could buy her, I could never make up the time I spent wallowing in my own pity and leaving her to fend for herself.
“Whenever you need to talk, I’m here,” I told her, moving my chair closer to hers. “I know I haven’t been, but I am now, and I want you to know that.”
A single tear trailed down her cheek and I pulled her to me for a soft kiss. “You’ve been a real ass,” she whispered as we parted. “Both of you. And don’t mistake me having sex as forgiveness, I’m still pissed.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from a ball of horniness and rage,” I teased, kissing her cheek just as the waiter arrived.
She laughed and nuzzled into my shoulder. The older woman smiled happily at us and explained in her thick accent the dish she’d made, it smelled amazing and looked even better. Jon’s going to regret missing this. He’d probably already ate when he went to meet up with Christine. I was honestly surprised that she came all the way to the Bahamas to talk about the divorce but leave it to her to make show of it. I had to wonder if Lydia knew about that yet, it wasn’t my place to tell her though – Jon had to do that himself.
We ate and talked about simple things, avoiding the heavy subjects that waited in the wings; namely the company and going back to New York. Or not going back to New York, I was perfectly happy living out my days here. She was telling me about snorkeling in the cay when my phone buzzed loudly, the longer notification to alert me of an email. Lydia glanced at me expectantly and I apologized as I reached for the device. I hadn’t received an email to my personal account in weeks and it was usually my mother contacting me that way, I hoped everything was alright.
The from address wasn’t one I recognized, but as soon as I reached the second line my heart stopped.
Dear Patrick,
This is difficult to write, and I understand if you choose not to reply. I got this email address from your mother Lucille, she advised me this would be the best way to reach you. My name is Aleksy Jarosz, and I’m contacting you on behalf of my father – our father. Recently his health has deteriorated, and his request is for you to come see him before he passes. Lucille advised me that you’ve never spoken with Aleksy Sr., so I can imagine that this email may not be well received, and I understand if you do not wish to meet.
However, this is one of his final requests and I urge you to see it in yourself to come visit with him before he’s gone. Please don’t delay with your response whatever it may be, we’re uncertain how long he has left.
All the best,
A.J. Jarosz.
I read the email a dozen times, each time got harder as my eyes glazed over and my hand shook. Why hadn’t my mother asked me first if I wanted to be contacted by distant relatives? Why was this man so easily able to contact my mother when she’d told me she hadn’t spoken to my father since before I was born? I could hear Lydia asking me something, when I turned to her she cupped my face and held my gaze with a look of worry etched into her delicate features.
“Pat?” she asked anxiously. “What’s wrong, baby? Please talk to me.”
“My father’s dying,” I blurted. “And I have a half-brother…”
This was not the time for this email, and it showed on Lydia’s face as she gaped in horror. “I didn’t—”
“I didn’t either.”
We stared at each other for a moment, unsure what to say, then suddenly in a flurry of movement we were paying the bill and heading back to the boat. “We’re going back to the house,” she explained more calmly than I expected. “You need to call your mom, if she gave him your email she probably knows a fair amount about this.”
I nodded along and let her read the email when we got back on the speedboat, inside I felt numb. I had spent a good portion of my teen years asking for the slightest bit of information about the man my mum never talked about, I’d asked everyone I knew and only got the same answers – they met in Europe, he was a one night stand, she didn’t even know his last name. Well it was pretty hard to stand by that story if the man claiming to be my half-brother was easily able to reach her.
“Patrick,” Lydia said, placing her hand on my arm. “You look like you’re going to puke…”
I certainly felt that way too. “It’s just a lot to take in,” I said curtly.
I was honestly afraid that if I kept talking I would actually puke, and the choppy waves weren’t helping. Never had I been so excited to get back on solid ground than when we reached the island. Lydia kept a firm grip on my arm as she teetered in the sand trying to take her sandals off, just as she was slipping them into her purse her phone started ringing.
“If that’s Allie, I don’t want you telling her anything,” I pleaded.
Lydia shot me an exasperated look. “Give me some credit here, I’m not a gossip machine.”
Oh please. I held her gaze intently, not budging. After a minute she blushed and looked away. “Fine,” she conceited. “I like to gossip sometimes, alright? But this is your personal business, I’m not going to blab.”
“Thank you.” I gave her a quick kiss as she answered her phone and then headed up to the house without her. Lydia could try that as much as she wanted, I saw how fast her phone came out when she found out something that she wanted to share with Allie, I knew better than to believe her about not gossiping.
Jon was just as bad, and I knew I’d have to beg him not to inadvertently tell Christine or Maritza. Or Charles. Or just the whole damn universe really.
“Jon!” I called, storming through the house.
“Back porch!”
I groaned and jogged to the back sunroom, it was hot and sticky in here I couldn’t stand it. “I’m about to have an identity crisis,” I said as I dropped into the plush love seat beside him.
With that, I handed him my phone to let him read the email. His brow furrowed and his mouth went into a hard line as he skimmed it again and again. “You’ve never met?”
“No, I didn’t actually know his name until now.” I leaned forward, bracing my forearms on my knees and staring at the floor. “What am I supposed to do with that? Show up at his death bed and introduce myself? What shit fucking time to contact your estranged child.”
“I’d guess he feels guilty,” Jon offered patiently. “You told me before that you wanted to meet him.”
“Yeah, when I was twenty and going through Europe on a soul-searching mission, not now – not when I’m almost forty and he’s dying.” It was so strange to even say that out loud, a man I’d never met and all I could see him as was someone with one foot in the grave. “I have a brother,” I said more quietly this time, almost in amazement.
Jon studied me for a while, his blue eyes were dark and curious while he seemed to think on his words. “I can give you the number of my P.I. He does great work, you could get a sense of what Aleksy might be like before you go…”
“Don’t call him that,” I snapped. He wasn’t Aleksy, that made him more real. Too real, and I didn’t want to try and put a face to the name. “And who said I even wanted to go?”
“You would’ve deleted the email already if you didn’t want to go and you know it.” Jon sat up straight and patted my back. “Call Lucy, talk to her before you spiral out of control.”
Mum… I knew I should call her either way, it was only right. “I will,” I agreed reluctantly. “Lydia’s outside on the phone with Allie, we sort of rushed back here, will you go check on her? She has food for you too in her bag.”
“It’s a rush back here kind of day,” he muttered to himself.
I cocked an eyebrow questioningly and he just waved his hand in an it-was-a-long-day gesture that I recognized too well. Maybe the Bahamas were becoming the same hell that New York turned into.
I waited until I heard the front door click shut before pulling out my own phone. There was no guarantee that my mother would even answer the phone, but I had to try. Despite the fact that she never had her cell on, it was never in near her, and she almost always didn’t hear it go off – she answered on the third ring.
“Pat! I miss you darling, how are the Bahamas? Tell me that you’re having a good time,” she said excitedly. Her voice calmed my pounding heart and I was able to finally take a deep breath to steady myself.
“Mum,” I greeted shakily. “I got an email today. Do you know anything about it?”
“Oh,” she said, sounding less sure of herself. “I don’t want you to be mad, darling, please. I just thought that you should have the option to meet him at least once…”
“Now?” I demanded incredulously. “Mum, he’s dying, there were a thousand other times I could have met him, but you thought now was the most appropriate?”
“It was never a good time!” Her voice shook and my stomach twisted, I prayed she wouldn’t cry on the phone, I couldn’t handle anymore crying.
“Why not?”
“Aleksy has a wife, he has children, I couldn’t—I couldn’t hurt them like that.” Mum paused to sniffle and instantly my throat constricted at the sound. “I was asked to stay away and I did, Nora and I thought it was easier that way.”
Nora, my other mother. I wished she was there now to be the voice of reason, the stoic one that wouldn’t end up making me cry too. “When you say he has a wife and children—”
“When are you coming home?” she interrupted quickly. “I don’t want to do this over the phone, we should talk in person…”
Patented Lucille Rosing’s trick to ending an argument – we can’t do this now because of x reason, when would it be most convenient to resume? There was no way she would back down now and I wouldn’t be able to pry more info out of her until we were sitting across from each other in a restaurant that met her standards.
“This week I guess,” I said while pinching the bridge of my nose. “We need to talk mum; I don’t want you rescheduling on me.”
“I don’t do that,” she snapped irritably. “I’ll see what I can do to get us into Nora’s favourite place, I think we should all talk together.”
“Alright,” I agreed. “I’ll let you know when I’m flying in. Thanks, mum.”
“Wait, Pat! Bring the girl with you, we want to meet her.”
“Her name is Lydia.”
“It’s a pretty name. Bring her with you though, I want to meet her.”
There was no arguing to be had, I agreed to bring Lydia –despite the fact that I hadn’t asked her– and we set a tentative date for Thursday. After I disconnected with her I heard the door slam in the living room. We don’t need more drama, for the love of god we don’t need anything else right now.
Reluctantly I went to the living room, already steeling myself for the worst. Jon looked exhausted as he rushed around to bring her a blanket and tissues. Lydia looked positively devastated as she sobbed on the couch; her legs pulled up to her chest and face half buried in a pillow. My first thought was that someone died, and as Jon came up to answer my unasked question, I wished I was right.
“Lydia’s biological mother was interviewed by a gossip column,” he whispered. “She told them that her daughter has a history with older boyfriends and has always been a gold digger.”
At least someone dying would be better than her own mother calling her names. Maybe then I would’ve known how to comfort her.