Yikes. Eleven?
Interesting little side note: When we used to play the sims ALL THE TIME Aaron actually invented a character named Eleven Delaney. She was awesome and sexy and quirky and artsy. Half asian too.
Now he's lamenting that I've hogged the name Delaney and he can't write a story about 'Eleven Delaney' in Cedar Falls.
I'm trying to figure out a way to work her in...
anyway. Part 11.
We get a kinda-sorta glimpse into one of the characters we never pay much attention to-- but really? This is more about Jonah than anything. Not gunna lie. It's about exploring the man with the secret as he tries desperately to maintain the life he led before the secret.
Long long long night apparently.
um,i think I'll post a deviation from the long night next, for two reasons: The first: I like variation and dislike getting stuck too long in one story line\time\place. Second: I have not finished the next segment to my satisfaction. It took a turn I didn't expect and am not sure I want to go where it took me, not yet, maybe never.
AND i've been writing SO MUCH as far as other story lines go, so why not take a detour and give you yummy, salacious, delicious OTHER STUFF???
Anywayz. Today you get more LONG NIGHT. Enjoy!
*****************
Jonah crossed to his daughter’s desk and stared at the device that was emanating uninspired, angsty college folk music. He didn’t see a dial. Or even a discernable button. How the hell does one turn the volume down?
“Uh, Vee.” He gestured at it, smiling apologetically. “It’s just a little loud for a conversation.”
Vienna had flung herself onto her bed after letting him in, and now she had to drag herself up and off of it once more to deal with the music. Every movement was an effort, every effort cost her. She swiped her finger in a half circle on the flat surface of her music player and, as if by magic, the referential lyrics vanished to a hush, the tired guitar dwindled to a hint in the background, and the homage-laden harmonica mewled like a kitten instead of whining like a merciless banshee. She dragged her feet back to the bed and collapsed again, miserable and mute.
Jonah tried to feel for her, he really did, but right now she was more a task than a person to him. He’d been engaged (by his beautiful, fretful little wife) to entreat the young woman to join the rest of the family for dinner. And so he was standing in her room, gazing at her, and trying to dream up some way of accomplishing the goal, which looked, at the moment, to be an unlikely one.
“Mum send you up here?” The girl asked, staring up at the high ceiling of her over-large, shared bedroom.
“We’re both worried about you.” He responded dutifully.
He watched her flat stomach tense beneath her pajama tank top in a humorless laugh. “Worried about your precious, bourgeois dinner party.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake. This was going to be just delightful. Who’d she been dating—Holden Caulfield?
Jonah crossed to her bed and sat gingerly at the foot of it. When she hadn’t made a move in response, nor requested he remove himself, he relaxed a little and crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Our primary concern is your well being, Vienna, and I think you know that.”
She huffed and threw an arm over her eyes, but she grunted in some semblance of concession.
“Of course we’d love to have you downstairs with the family—you’re a part of this family and tonight is an important night.” He saw her lips push tight, just like they had the first time she’d tried a lemon as a toddler, and he smiled gently at the memory. “But nobody is asking you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”
She nodded beneath her arms and blew a shaky puff of air from those puckered lips. She was trying hard not to burst into tears.
They sat in silence for a few moments; he wanted to allow her time to regulate her breathing and push away the impulse to sob. He waited until her arm slipped off her face and she was staring at the ceiling once more, to continue.
“Want to tell me about it?” He suggested.
“No.”
He nodded. He didn’t really want to hear about it. But neither one of them were going to get what they wanted tonight.
“How long had you been dating?” He asked softly.
He saw her dart her tongue over her parched lips and swallow hard. She shrugged.
“Vienna.” He said, a stern but gentle command.
“Two months. I guess. Three?”
His eyebrows lifted. “And I never met him?” It was a loaded question. A very Dad-like question.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start, please?”
He licked the back of his teeth and chose his next words with care. “It strikes me as a bad sign that you didn’t have this young man over to meet your parents.” He said, forcing a neutral tone. “It tells me that maybe you had some doubts about him?” Her violet eyes closed tight. “Maybe your subconscious or your gut told you he wasn’t the right guy from the get-go?”
She covered her face with her hands just as a sob tore from her throat.
“Okay.” He said soothingly. “It’s okay. Shhhshhhshh.” He patted her leg very gently and she bolted upright and wrapped her arms around his neck in one fluid and desperate movement.
He held his breath, waiting to feel something inappropriate, waiting to turn into the monster that lurked within him. But nothing happened except a girl sobbing into his neck and mumbling indistinctly.
He exhaled and inhaled a little more freely. And patted his daughter’s back gently. And tried not to think about Viola.
“Slow down, Honey; slow down and tell me from the beginning.”
It took her a couple of minutes to reign in her emotions. When she did so she unwrapped herself from him and pulled her long legs into the pretzel position. She pushed her long auburn hair back behind her ears and sniffled. His lips quirked. He loved her so much. He hadn’t been paying much attention to her lately. To her or her twin sister. They were so independent and busy and grown-up lately. It was sort of sweet to see her vulnerable and in need of a hug.
He only wished she didn’t have to be broken hearted and miserable.
“He’s a sophomore at the university.” She said on a weary exhale. He pursed his lips but held his tongue. “I met him at the coffee house, he’s a poet and a lyricist and a musician.” Her voice tread the line between bitter resentment and adoring awe.
So this guy was a self-centered, egotistical, disingenuous, ass. Wonderful.
“What’s his name?” Jonah asked automatically.
“You don’t know him.”
“I didn’t ask if I knew him, I asked what his name is.” Jonah responded archly.
“Dad, you don’t know him, he’s not from here, he just moved here to go to the CFU!” She hurried, a whine creeping into her voice.
He was pretty used to knowing the people his daughters associated with. He was in the school system. He could pull their academic records and see who their family was and size them up pretty easily. In many cases he’d been their sixth grade social studies teacher or their elementary school principal.
He didn’t like the idea of this unknown coffee house neo-beatnik, with a cipher for a background, sniffing around his daughter.
“Vienna.” He said simply.
“Cash.”
Jonah just barely resisted rolling his eyes. “Cash?” He responded as mildly as he could manage. “And does Cash have a last name?”
“Nassiri.” She said, her eyes flashing, her tone a dare.
“Sounds like he’d be in a band.” He quipped wryly before he could stop himself.
Her lips pressed firmly together and she glowered at him. Then the expression slipped and her lips quirked. “Dad.” She said warningly.
“Apologies.” He said with a small smile.
She laughed a little. “Cash isn’t his real name.”
“You don’t say.”
She giggled. He grinned.
“So what happened?” He prompted easily.
Her small smile evaporated and she looked away. “He met someone else.”
Jonah adjusted his glasses and refused to think about Velvet and Viola. Refused to do it.
“How did it end?” He asked quietly.
She ran her fingers through her hair, over her scalp, and Jonah was reminded forcibly of Nolan. Funny how these little traits and quirks get distributed.
She looked disgusted and miserable. “That’s the worst part!” She moaned. “He sent me a text.” She turned to her father with baleful eyes. “A goddamned text, Dad.”
Jonah nodded solemnly. “The boy’s an idiot, Vee.” He said decisively.
She rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue and pulled all her long red hair to one side. He watched as she began to braid the long, straight mane restlessly. “Dad, you don’t even know him!” She protested. “He’s a genius.” She insisted. “He’s brilliant and he’s beautiful, and he is so talented it’s almost painful, you know?”
Jonah would certainly classify the music he’d heard upon entering her room as ‘painful’, but he decided it would be best to avoid an artistic debate at present. He was old, ergo he’d never win—right as he may well be.
“A genius?” Jonah challenged. “Brilliant?” He prodded.
“You don’t know him.” She repeated mulishly, her long fingers working steadily down her locks.
“You’re right. I don’t.” Jonah conceded. “And I think we’ve already covered just why, precisely, I was never introduced to Mr. Nassiri.” He said unsympathetically.
She blushed all over and frowned at the far bedroom wall.
“And as for his brilliance,” Jonah continued, hell bent on saying his peace, “Any idiot who breaks up with someone via text message is not only far from a genius, he’s also a coward, and not really much of a man at all Vienna.”
Her lower lip trembled. She didn’t seem inclined to speak.
“Besides.” He continued, wanting to see her smile again, wanting to hear her giggle. “He’s obviously a fool to look at anyone else when he should have been counting his lucky stars to have you on his arm.”
She rolled her eyes and gave him a pitying, exasperated look. “Daa-aad.”
He managed not to chuckle. “What?” He demanded. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, talented, clever, well-traveled, sophisticated—“
“Well apparently none of that matters, does it?” She interrupted, her voice dancing a fragile line between anguish and acrimony.
He was thoughtful. “Besides, what imbecile went and passed up a redhead?” He asked in a tone of absolute wonder and bewilderment. “Everybody knows a redhead is a real catch.”
She shook her head and a giggle slipped out. “You’re such a dad.” She lamented, even while smiling.
“Well.” He shrugged.
She hugged him and he held her for a long moment, as long as she needed. He wondered if she’d slept with the boy. Probably. He wondered if he’d made promises to her. Likely. Lied to her, and pretended, and charmed his way into her pants. Most definitely.
He wondered if he could kill the boy and get away with it. Less probable.
“You want me to come downstairs now, don’t you?” Vienna asked resignedly as she pulled out of the hug and slouched against the wall, stretching her long legs out on the bed before her and flexing her pedicured toes.
“Your family loves you, Vee, and everyone would love to see you join us.”
She sighed and ran her fingers through the braid she’d started, shaking the plait loose with determination.
“Everyone will be looking at me, and pitying me, and talking about me behind my back.” She said it without emotion. It was a fact.
Jonah removed his glasses and began to clean them unnecessarily. “Everyone is here to support you, and help you, and be here for whatever you need.” He corrected. “And moreover, this night is in honor of your brother and his new wife, so you certainly won’t have to endure being in the spotlight with this, or anything of the sort.”
They fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment or two.
“I’ll come down if you get mom to promise she won’t bring it up. Like, at ALL.” Vienna bargained, sounding much more like herself.
“Sound like a deal.” Jonah said, slipping his glasses back on and smiling fondly at his daughter. He extended his hand for a shake, and she seemed to deliberate for a few seconds before laughing and clasping her hand to his for a cordial, business-like shake.
He then got up and crossed to the door.
“Dad?”
He stopped and turned. “Yes, love?”
“Thanks for being you.” She said with complete sincerity.
His gut twisted painfully and he felt a slippery coldness wriggle down his spine.
“Thanks for being a good sport on this kiddo. I know you’re hurting.”
She shrugged and sniffled a little. “Be down in a few, k?”
“Ok.” He said with a nod. He paused in the doorway, not quite ready to leave the safezone of the twins’ room for the no-man’s-land of the hall. Where Viola was likely waiting to prey on him. “Uncle Caleb’s broken up with Gideon.” He told her. “It was pretty awful. Maybe you could do me a favor and make sure he has an ok night tonight?”
She tilted her head to the side and gave him a concerned and curious look. “You got it.” She responded kindly.
“That’s my girl.” He said, and, taking a deep breath, pulled open the door and braced himself for the rest of the evening.
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