POKER NIGHT; BEN SINCLAIR

Holla!

K, hope you're groovin on poker night because we have today's installment plus at least one more in the hopper. Then I think after that we're gonna need a break from most of those guys and we'll prolly check on Grey & Maggie.

So Len, right? Love. I was in a rush yesterday morning on account of needing to go be a flippin' gym teacher, so I forgot to remind folks that Lennox was first introduced in CATER WAITER, so check that shit out. He and the Delaney Bros go wayy back.

Oh, and I didn't get much feedback from Caleb's first story-- I adore Caleb, who is the much-younger brother of Nolan & Jonah who was mentioned first in um... In The Townhouse with the Yellow Door i think... yes, just a passing reference.  So obviously he'd a grown up now.  I'm thinking he's only like 10 years older than Grey...  I'm not actually super with math...

Alrighty, today you meet Bennett Sinclair, who is Avalon's Fiancee and is mentioned briefly in The Wedding Announcement, but not really anywhere else... I don't think... lol. Well, I mean, obv he was mentioned in the one from yesterday but you know what I'm saying,he hasn't got much in terms of archive linkage. however you will be seeing more of him as we go along.

The Sinclair & the Bennetts are big time Cedar Falls staples-- this is because whenever I start a town in THE SIMS these are two of my very favorite family names to use. You've probably seen Doc Bennett mentioned now and again-- I imagine he's a substantial figure in town:

"Old Doc Bennett...murphlegoobinndhemm...." 

So Dr. Bennett is Ben's Grandfather on his Mom's side... OK, Whatever, I'm getting wayy into lineage that you don't need to know about just yet. Just know that there are families out there in Cedar Falls, folks with secrets of their own...

Alright. Poker Night is in full swing, let the game begin:

************

Ben liked Jonah, he really did, but the prospect of spending an evening playing poker with his future father-in-law always made his a little jumpy and uptight.  He’d been part of the Poker-Night group for about two years but he tried not to make it to every game.  He wasn’t related to them yet, so it was easy enough to make excuses, send his regrets.  But he went often enough to keep Avalon happy.  And to make it look like he enjoyed the game nights.

But he’d never been over for a poker night without Avalon also present somewhere in the house.  The women never joined the men, not for poker, they played other games and such but left the men to their devices for poker nights, but at least she was there.  At least she was around.  She’d bring more pretzels in sometimes and smile encouragingly and give him a kiss on the cheek.  And sometimes he’d sit out a hand or two to ‘use the restroom’ and use the time to fondle her and make-out with her under her father’s roof.  That always seemed to make her hotter than hell.  Of course he’d never actually had sex with her in her father’s house; that was a line he refused to cross despite her very convincing arguments and coaxing to the contrary.  But hell yes he’d kiss her till she was desperate and take her nipples in his mouth and even reach his hand into her panties to feel how turned on she was.  He considered that his little reward for enduring poker night.

And tonight there would be no reward.  No Avalon.  No steamy indiscretions in the pantry while they could still hear her father’s voice in the other room.  No, tonight would really be a guy’s night.  Ben would almost rather slam his balls in the refrigerator door.

But Jonah had called and been very persistent.  “C’mon Ben, I know you’re like me—you don’t have plans when your lady’s out of town!”

Well he’d certainly sound suspicious if he argued that point.  What was he supposed to say: “Oh Gee Mr. Delaney, actually I love to make plans when your daughter is out of town.”

So he’d capitulated.  He was going to poker night.

But he was bringing his best-man along.  West Bryant hadn’t been easy to convince.

“Are the twins going to be there?”  His friend had an unhealthy obsession with twins.  And with these twins in particular as he’d slept with one of them and had since made it his goal to have both of them, preferably at once.

“Sorry, no, they’re out of town.”  Ben sincerely wished he could have lied, but West could always sniff out deception on Ben as they’d been friends since middle school and Ben wasn’t a terrific liar.

“Fuck no then.”

“West, If you don’t go I’ll let slip that you fucked one of the guy’s daughters.”

West had just laughed.  “You’re too much of a pussy for a move like than Ben.”

Ben supposed he was right.

“Please West-  I’ll owe you one.”

“Talk to that pretty little sister in law for me and I’ll consider it.”

Ben groaned inwardly.  “Which one?”  He asked, feeling slightly queasy.

“The other one, the one… Vienna.”  But West didn’t sound entirely sure.

“You don’t remember which one of them you slept with?!”  Ben loved his best friend but the guy continually astonished him with how appalling he could be sometimes.

“It was your engagement party, I was fairly inebriated.”  He defended himself.  “Which one was wearing the blue sparkles, the mini dress?”

Ben paused, trying to remember.  They’d posed for pictures… “Geneva.”  He responded at last, fairly confident that Genny had been in blue and Vienna had been in yellow.  But really?  He wasn’t sure.  He just wanted to sound confident enough to appease his friend.

“See?”  West was triumphant.  “I was right.”

“Congratulations.”  Ben said flatly.  “Will you come?”

“Oh, I always come.”

“Shut the fuck up, will you play poker tonight?”

West laughed at his own little jest and then agreed.  “But I have your word?”

Ben sighed.  “Yes West.”  He said, a patronizing sort of tone coloring his response.  “I’ll speak to my barely-legal soon-to-be sister-in-law and mention that my friend would like to complete the set and would she mind fucking him so his fantasy will come true?”

There was a silence on the line.  Ben pulled the phone away from his ear to see if the call had been dropped.  He heard his friend begin to speak just as he was putting the phone back to his head.

“Can you try to see if she’d be interested in bringing the other one?”

“You’re a sick fuck. I’ll see you at eight?”

“Yeah, ok.” West sounded contemplative but he’d said yes and that’s all Ben had wanted. 

“Thanks.”  He closed his phone hastily, afraid to have to hear more perverted requests in exchange for his friend’s presence that evening.

And so, at about eight fifteen that evening he was clapping his best friend on the back and welcoming him over to his fiancee’s house for a night of poker with men twice their age.

“Where the fuck is Grey?” West whispered an aside to him as they moved to the den to get started.  Grey usually attended these shindigs but was conspicuously absent.  Ben didn’t care much for Avalon’s arrogant cock of a brother but at least he was his contemporary.  Along with his best friend Phelan, Grey served as a great buffer for reducing Ben’s awkwardness around Avalon’s uncles.

“I dunno.”  Ben confessed, feeling more harassed by the second. “Jonah said Grey couldn’t make it, but he didn’t elaborate.”

“Fuck me in the ear.”  West said.  West liked Grey Delaney and Phelan Ward and had likely only agreed to come to this poker game because he knew he stood a good chance of having a laugh with them around.  Now he was stuck with a bunch of middle-aged men and his mild-mannered best friend and no twins.  “Maybe you should call some of the other guys?”

Ben swallowed.  “I tried Ethan, but you know West this isn’t my little party, I can’t just go inviting all my buddies over to some other guy’s house.”

“Pussy.” 

Ben felt a bit like a pussy.  “All the free booze you want though, as usual.”

West sighed and shrugged.  “I’m gonna need it.”

Ben thought he might need it too.  His future father-in-law was behaving a little strangely and on top of that the man had invited Ben’s uncles over too.  Now Ben liked his uncles, but his family wasn’t quite the same as the Delaneys.  Grey’d been raised as one of the guys, was comfortable hanging out with his uncles and dad, but in Ben’s family the generations just didn’t mix as well and he always felt like a little kid around his uncles, never their equal.

But his mom’s brothers had grown up across the street from the Delaney brothers, they’d all gone to school together, they had been friends for decades.  In fact, they were close enough friends of the family that Avalon and her siblings called them Uncle Marty and Uncle Sam just like he did. Ben wished for the thousandth time that he’d managed to think up a viable excuse and not come.

By eight forty five they were finally all settled in and ready to start playing.  Drinks had been poured and in some cases re-poured, food had been thrown together from whatever the kitchen had to offer in Velvet’s absence and, finding that lacking, a few pizzas had been ordered. 

One of Avalon’s other ‘uncles’, her Uncle Len, shuffled and dealt.  West flashed his friend a grin.  West was happy he wasn’t the only black man at the table.  Ben rolled his eyes.

“So, Jonah, I’m sorry.  I might’ve missed it, but where’s Grey this evening?”  Ben’s Uncle Sam asked, pulling his cards toward him.

“Happy you might actually make it home with some money left?” It was Nolan who spoke.

Everyone laughed a little. 

“The thought had crossed my mind.”  Sam admitted, examining his cards shrewdly.

“Mine too.”  Uncle Marty added with an easy smile.

“It crossed all our minds.”  Said Len smoothly.

Jonah smiled and Ben thought it looked a little forced.  “He had a date I think. I couldn’t reach him.”

All the men nodded.  Grey loved poker but he loved chasing ass more.

Ben lifted the edges of his cards just enough to see he had a shitty chance.  He sucked at poker anyway, and it didn’t help that he almost never seemed lucky enough to get dealt decent cards.  He was looking at a four and a seven off-suited.  With a small sigh he called when it came around to him.

“Maybe you’ll be able to pull together enough scratch to cover this fairy-tale wedding the ladies are planning, Jonesie.”  Caleb grinned, and sucked on his third dark rum drink.

Jonah’s eyes flicked to Ben and he smiled kindly.  “My wife never got to have her fairy-tale wedding, Ben, so I’m afraid she’s living vicariously through the two of you.”

Ben smiled back weakly.  It was getting a little out of hand.  He had begun to hate anything and everything that had to do with dresses and tuxes and flowers and invitations and seating arrangements and gowns and shoes and groomsmen and it was getting to the point where he was living for the honeymoon.  He’d be more than happy just whisking his fiancée away and marrying her in a private little ceremony and then showering her with affection on some tropical island for two weeks.

He was already tired of it and it was still months away.

“Ah, don’t look so worried Ben!” Nolan grinned widely.  “It’s going to be a cozy affair compared to the spectacle of my wedding.”

All the men at the table groaned and nodded, some laughed.  Ben remembered that wedding, he’d been there, he’d been a boy, but he’d been there.  “Did you…?”  He paused, thinking for a moment, “Am I misremembering, or did you ride a horse?”  It seemed like maybe he’d dreamt that or something, spliced actual events together with a memory from a movie or something.

The older men laughed heartily.  Nolan Delaney nodded almost ruefully.  “I did indeed Ben, I did indeed.”

“Yeah, and the horse was the compromise—they wanted him to ride in on a mothafucking Elephant.”  Lennox said with a grin.

Ben laughed a little with the others.  Nolan’s wedding had been a very large and interesting affair as he’d married a woman from a very traditional Hindu family.  There had been literally thousands of attendees at the event.  It had been too big even for the pavilion and the town park—it had been held in the city at the sports arena.

“I guess our guest list doesn’t seem so bad afterall.”  Ben said, remembering the overwhelming numbers garbed in bright, vibrant colors.  There was some appreciative laughter.

“That was a great fucking wedding.”  Ben’s Uncle Sam said, and sipped from his bottled beer.  “Wild.”  He added.  “But great.”

“Remember how much fun all the women had dressing in those, what the hell are they called?”  Marty asked Nolan.

“Sarees.”  He answered and threw a chip to the center of the table.

“Velvet went crazy over those.”  Jonah agreed, and added a matching chip to the pile.  “She ordered a different color for each of the girls.”

Ben remembered the females wearing those exotic wrap style dresses.  He closed his eyes and tried to remember Avalon.  He’d been twelve, so she would have been eight or nine.  He couldn’t really remember.  He’d been far more interested in the full-breasted members of Nolan’s wife’s exotic family to really pay attention to little kids.  Even his mother had worn one, a saree, and it had struck Ben as the strangest thing he’d ever seen.  His mother almost never wore anything but slacks and a fitted button-down.  It was practically a uniform.

“What colors have you decided on?”  Caleb asked Ben, throwing a chip and then another to the center.  He meant ‘what colors has Avalon chosen’ but he’d kept up the pretense that Ben had any say whatsoever.

“Um, I’m not certain.”  Ben answered and he could feel West trying not to grin beside him.  West had firm opinions on bridezillas and had wagered a lot of money on how these wedding plans would go down.  “I know her mom wants, um, light purple…”  Was it lilac or lavender or violet?  Ben really didn’t know and didn’t want to say the wrong one because he had the feeling that while the three hues were virtually indistinguishable to him, Avalon’s uncle would not see them the same way.

“What the fuck’s he care about colors?”  Asked Len.

“Yeah, what you should be asking is what are his plans for the bachelor party?”  His Uncle Marty was smiling a taunting smile across the table at him.

Ben’s eyes widened and he couldn’t help the reflexive glance he stole toward Jonah, before he forced himself to focus on the two shitty cards he was holding.  He should fold.  Fuck.  If he folded now he’d look like he was afraid to discuss the bachelor party in front of Avalon’s family.  He was, a little, but he didn’t want them to know that so he threw in the two chips required to stay in.

“Don’t ask him,”  Said West to his right, “Any and all inquiries about said party should be addressed to the best man.”

Fuck.  Ben swallowed and hoped the blush he could feel creeping up his neck wasn’t obvious.  Silently he begged West to keep things appropriate.  Please let him be vague and not too suggestive and not vulgar and, Oh God, why the fuck had he dragged West along?  Why the fuck were they talking about weddings at a poker night?

West threw in three chips and a few people grumbled a little. 

“Maybe Jonah should leave the room.”  Teased Caleb lightly.

Jonah took a moment before responding.  “Hmm?  Oh. Ha.”  He gave a short little laugh.  Ben squirmed in his chair a bit and reached for his drink. 

“Oh that’s nothing.”  Said Len.  “Delaney, tell the kid what you had to endure for your father in law.”  The man laughed a deep, full belly laugh which Jonah joined after a moment and Nolan groaned.

“I still have trouble looking that man in the face sometimes.” Nolan said in a dead-pan.

“Is this the, uh, oh yeah, I think I know this one.”  Sam said and folded.  “I’m gunna grab another- anyone?”  Ben’s Uncle Marty nodded and tossed in the ante.  Sam stretched and moved toward the mini-fridge hidden in the sideboard.

“What happened?”  Ben asked more out of politeness than interest, but very glad they were moving away from his bachelor party as a subject of discussion.  He shot West a dire glare of warning, to which West just shrugged, smiled, and took a healthy sip of his beverage.

“So there’s this week-long festival of events and gathering leading up to the actual wedding,” Nolan explained hastily.

“Yeah, be grateful you don’t have to do all that.”  Inserted Marty.

Nolan smiled.  “And one of the rituals, one of the customs is to go over to the bride’s father’s house so that he can formally, well, ‘give his daughter away to her chosen’.”  Ben blanched a little but tried to smile pleasantly. 

Jonah saw Ben’s face and smiled kindly as he adjusted his glasses and looked away.  Ben was grateful that Jonah hadn’t continued to watch him.

“So Zahra had prepared me for most of it; there’d be a symbolic ritual with water poured from a pitcher to symbolize purity—“

Len laughed richly. 

“—Shut up Len.  Um, and I had to let some of her cousins steal my shoes and hide them—“

“Whaaat?”  West asked.

“Yeah, and then Zee said I’d have to repeat certain phrases and make three promises and there’d be a prayer or two and a fruit and that would be that.”

“All in front of a big crowd of her relatives.”  Jonah added, leaning back in his chair and turning his scotch glass slowly in his long fingers. 

“Right.”  Confirmed Nolan with a smile. “So there I am, shoeless, nervous, but eager to get it right and her father starts asking me these questions.”  Ben shivered a little, grateful that he wouldn’t have to endure something so awkward and foreign.  “First he asks if I’ll assist his daughter in achieving dharma.  Ok, no problem.  I promise.  Then the next one is, shit I forget the word, but it’s prosperity.  Do I promise to help her achieve prosperity.  Yes, I promise.”  Nolan smiled and paused for a drink of wine.  “Now Zee had said the third one was sort of like ‘obey’, so I’m thinking, ‘this isn’t so different, this is basically love, honor and obey, richer and poorer sort of stuff.”

All the older men began to chuckle.  Caleb, West and Ben exchanged glances.  They’d never heard this apparently infamous story.

“So he looks at me, Zee’s father, and her brother is right there too, like, behind the guy’s shoulder and the fucker is grinning at me now, and Her father gives me this look and asks me if I promise to, you know, help her achieve Kama, or help fulfill the Kama, I forget just how he phrased it, but there was something in his tone, and the way her brother was looking at me that, uh, gave me pause.” Nolan cleared his throat and smiled down at the poker table.

“All of a sudden this fucker’s thinking- wait a minute, what’s the joke?”  Len said, through his own laughter.

“Because the energy in that room shifted and it was as if all her relatives were waiting to see how Nolan reacted.” Jonah added, “I got the sense that they were curious since he was such a westerner.”

Nolan laughed a little.  “I look at Zee and she’s having a little trouble meeting my eye.  Now I’m really nervous.  I turn back to her father and he repeats the question.  I don’t know what to do; so I ask him to tell me what it means.”

“What???”  Caleb breathed.  “Why didn’t you just say yes?”

“I couldn’t! All of a sudden I realized I didn’t know what they were saying and I didn’t want to make a promise without knowing what the hell I was promising!” Nolan explained and took another drink.

“Holy shit, you never heard so much laughing.”  Len said merrily.

“I thought Zee was going to melt into a puddle.  Her father asks her why she hadn’t explained it to me and she just, oh god, she looked like she wanted to disappear.”

Ben shifted a little, eager to hear what the promise would be.

“So her father, the father of the girl I want to marry, then has to explain to me that I must promise to fulfill his daughter uh, sensually.”  Ben cocked his head.  Had her heard wrong? “Promise to assist her in sexual pleasure and keep her satisfied and gratified in that, um, arena.”  Even though it had been years ago, Ben watched a slight flush enhance Nolan’s cheeks. 

“No shit!”  West exclaimed, his mouth open and smiling.

“What the hell did you do?”  Gushed Caleb, leaning forward.

“Yeah.”  Nolan nodded.  “See, for them it’s part of the ritual, it’s a foundational pillar, and all that, but they all knew, they knew that having to promise this to her father would make ‘whitey’ all uncomfortable and they were really having a good time with me.  I’m pretty sure her father went into more detail than he needed to just to see how much I’d squirm.”

“He looked like he was ready to explode, he wanted to laugh so much, but he held his shit together, and he stared this nervous mother fucker down cold.”  Said Len. 

“What did you do?  What did you say?”  Caleb repeated eagerly.

“What the hell else could I do?  Without this ceremony there is no wedding.  This isn’t like some of the others, this one is pretty fucking important.  So I look the man in the eye, feel my ballsack shrink a fair amount, and promise to do everything in my power to help her achieve Kama.”

Len roared with laughter and Jonah looked like he might split his face open he was grinning so wide.  Sam and Marty had a good laugh too, as did West and Caleb.  “That is fucked up.”  Said West decisively.

Ben agreed but didn’t say anything.  He couldn’t look in Jonah’s direction.  Holy Christ.  What would he ever do if he had to stand before Jonah and promise to please the man’s daughter sexually?  He really, sincerely thought he might not have asked her to marry him if that were part of the ceremony.

“Yeah, they all had a good laugh, I survived, I promised Zee she’d pay for not warning me properly about that one, and we all had a fun night.”  Nolan received healthy pats on the back from both Jonah and Len, who sat on either side of him before meeting the ante with another chip.

“Yeah, yeah yeah.”  Said Nolan.  “One bright side is that someday I’ll get to torture some poor guy the same way.”

“Oh shit!”  Laughed Marty.  “Christ Nolan, you have two daughters—you’d better start saving up now—they’ll bankrupt you.”

Amid the laughter Ben heard Nolan groan.  “Maybe we oughta raise the blinds here.  Forget Jones, I need the money!”

“So Jonesey,” Caleb said sweetly after Jonah had met the ante, “I don’t suppose you’ll torture young Mr. Sinclair the same way?”

Nobody laughed harder than West, the Benedict Arnold, and Ben could feel eager eyes upon him.  Ben wished again that he hadn’t come.

Jonah didn’t answer right away, but Ben refused to look at him, so he had no idea if the man was smiling or scowling or what.  He held his breath.

And was literally saved by the bell.  The pizza had arrived and the doorbell sounded like sweet relief.  He jumped up, eager for the distraction.  “I’ll get this!”  He said, and practically sprinted for the door.  “I fold!” He heard a great deal of laughing behind him as he went.  Fucking poker nights.

That Saturday Night (Poker Night)

G'mornin' folks.  Hope you are enjoying the new and improved bloggie.  Danielle has already expressed her enthusiasm!  Super Psyched about all the new features.  To the Max, lol.

Last night was awesome... won't go into deets, but I woke up a very happy lady.  I was so cheerful I set about right away doing laundries!  Then Aaron consented to grabbing breakfast at the place that has my new favorite omelette in the world: Carmelized Onion & Roasted Red Pepper with American Cheese!  YUM.

AND!  Tonight I'm headed into the city for some fun times with my dear friend Julia!  Life feels happy and wonderful right now.  I just folded a warm bunch of clean towels, and isn't it silly how joyful that can make you?

OK.  So I'm posting the start of what will be a several-vignette series about one night in particular in Cedar Falls.  It is the day after the big jaw-dropper, the big mistake, and Jonah's all: "What the fuck???!!!"   (For more see: The Morning after --4 parts--, Viola's Secret, Breakfast, Kitchen Scene, and several more, since it's kind of a pervasive issue... Oh, here's a steamy one:Let's call it foreplay?  IDK, there's some shit that's gunna go down right where it leaves off but I haven't been able to bring myself to finish that yet... And D's advice was to hold off until I'm absolutely ready for that point-of-no-return shit, but the begginning is pretty intruiging I think!)

I'm really digging writing this-- over the next few days you will meet some new characters, which is fun, i hope, and see how this weird night unfolds!  YAY!

So enjoy part one in the series of POKER NIGHT. 

Hey, in case I don't say it enough?  Thanks for reading.  Much love and affection.

****************

That Saturday night was the longest night Jonah could remember experiencing.  He lay in his bed and didn’t dare close his eyes.  Didn’t dare shift or move in the slightest.  He was tired, but the imperative to stay alert, in control, and aware, kept sleep at bay.

The day had been awkward enough; That sullied imitation of a morning-after breakfast had been followed by a strange parody of Saturday morning routine.  She’d been ever-so-slightly suggestive and flirtatious over breakfast, but now he couldn’t trust himself to be sure whether or not it was her behavior or his own warped interpretation of her actions that made everything seem naughty, risqué, unacceptable.  After they’d eaten she’d offered to clean up so that he could shower.

It was the hottest, hastiest shower he’d ever taken—he wanted it scalding and he not only locked the door but moved the wicker hamper in front of it for an additional barricade.

But she hadn’t come.  Hadn’t tried to breach his privacy.

He couldn’t quite tell, as he wiped down the mirror and cleaned his ears with a cotton swab whether he was relieved or disappointed.

It didn’t quite feel real.  The day was bright and cold outside the window, sunny but dead.  He wished it would have the decency to snow, to cover the world’s too-naked form with a pure white blanket of modesty and grace.  He hated looking at those grayed, bare sticks of branches—the sight of winter absent snow made him feel gloomy and old.

When he’d dressed he set about the grim task of disposing of the evidence.  He decided not to launder any of it, to just throw it all out.  He didn’t know what he’d tell Velvet when she noticed some towels and sheets were missing, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of his wife lying on those sheets again, or using the towels unwittingly. 

He gathered up the towels and wrapped them in the topsheet Viola had discarded on the hardwood floor.  But he couldn’t seem to locate the soiled corner sheet.  He looked under the bed, in the laundry, in the garbage, he looked everywhere he could think of.  It was gone. 

He felt like some manic Poe character.  He threw the bundle he had made away and poured himself a drink.  There was no need to panic.  It was a sheet.  It must be somewhere.  He tried to remember what he’d done with it when he’d been in such a haste to dress.  He drew a blank time after time and no matter how he looked at it he simply couldn’t remember where it might have disappeared to. 

Darkly he wondered if the thought of it would drive him to madness.  If the fact of its existence, somewhere, might impel him to an unbidden confession.  He wondered if he’d be able to hear it beating.  He laughed sourly over his scotch.  He didn’t think it would be a beating heart he heard whenever he thought about that sheet.

He needed to sit down.

That’s when Viola found him.  He was sitting in the den, scotch in hand, a faraway look in his eyes.

“What happened?”  She asked and slowed her buoyant step.

He looked over distractedly.  Her voice sent a peculiar shiver down his spine.  “Hmm?  Oh.”  He saw the puddle of shattered mirror she was carefully walking toward.  “Be careful!” he said sharply.  She was wearing only socks.  She stopped and looked at him.  It had been a very fatherly voice and she appeared what? Confused? Turned on?  He took a breath and a long sip of scotch. 

“I broke the mirror.”  He said unnecessarily.

She looked back down at the pieces again.  “How come?”  She asked, her voice small.

“How? Or Why?”  He answered, stalling.  He sounded like the teacher he was.

“Why.”  She repeated, a note of irritation flicking across the word.

“I was angry.” 

She looked at him.  She was excited.  He wanted to disappear, to cease existing.  What the hell was he going to do? Because that thrill that flashed in her eyes did something entirely unwholesome to him. 

“Why?”  She asked, breathy.

He was reminded forcibly of when she’d been learning to talk and had repeated that same question morning, noon and night about anything and everything.  ‘Why?’ did she need to nap.  ‘Why?’ was there a bird in a tree.  ‘Why’ was there a cat in a hat and a fox in a box, and he closed his eyes.  He felt the effects of an ice cold shower wash over him and was grateful.  Yes.  She was his daughter.  His fucking daughter.

Suddenly scotch seemed like a poor decision.  His stomach revolted and he felt ill again.  He forced three or four deep breaths before he felt calm enough, settled enough to open his mouth without fear of vomiting.  He kept his eyes closed.

“Your brother was here this morning.”  He didn’t even want to think about it.  Another loose end that needed to be dealt with.

“Does he know?”  Jonah wasn’t exactly sure he could tell whether or not she sounded concerned or something else.

“He heard the shower.”  Jonah said, finally able to open his eyes.  The nausea had passed for the moment.  “He suspects I’m having an affair.”

Viola stared at him.  “Did he—“

“He thinks you’re upstate with your mother and sisters.”  Jonah finished.

Viola moved away from the mirror and came to sit on the floor at his feet.  She folded her legs under herself gracefully and rested her head against his knee.  He didn’t move.

“What are you going to tell him?”  He hated the sweet innocent sound of her voice.

“He intends to blackmail me.”  Jonah said.  “I intend to tell him enough of the truth to convince him he was mistaken.”

“That it was me in the shower.”

Jonah didn’t speak.  The warmth and weight of her head against his leg drew most of his focus.  It was a pose she often took when they were in the den.  It was an habitual spot for her, had been since she was a little girl and he’d sit in his chair reading the newspaper.  He’d be there, enjoying his weekend paper and coffee and she would insist upon playing at his feet.  She’d set up her coloring books or her dolls all around the foot of the chair.  Countless times he’d indulged her well after he’d finished both the paper and the coffee because his foot would be serving as some doll’s pillow or some action figure’s mountain top.  When she’d gotten a bit older she’d still gravitated to the spot but she’d bring a book or a crossword puzzle and ask him for help with words she couldn’t grasp, or excitedly tell him about the exploits of the characters in her novel.  When she’d entered her teenage years she’d settled there less often, but still often enough for it to feel like routine.  Only recently books and puzzles and crayons had been replaced by handheld games or a cell phone.

Now he buried his face in one trembling hand and willed himself not to touch her, not to reach over and stroke her cleanly scented hair or run a finger gently over her soft cheek.  He was grateful that one hand held his scotch glass and he kept the other hand wrapped around his face.  He couldn’t trust himself.

“Are you going to tell Mom?”

He took a breath.  It was a question his girl had asked him time and time again over the years, when she’d done something wrong, been caught, been in trouble.  He always gave the same answer.  He would always look at her, a kind but firm expression on his face, and explain to her that he told her mother everything.  She’d often tear-up and beg him not to tell, plead with him to keep it their secret.  But he was unswerving.  He’d tell her that he loved her, but that he had to be honest with his wife because they were partners.  He’d kiss her on the forehead, give her a big bear hug, and assure her that honesty was best and that everything would be alright.

He slid his hand down his face heavily until it held his jaw.  “No.” he answered.

She turned to look at him, her large violet eyes wide.  This was too big.  This was too awful.  This would have to remain a secret.  Their secret.  He felt something wither inside him, shrink and perish.  He was the worst kind of man.  He was a coward and an adulterer and—he refused to even think about what else.

She moved then, very slowly, very carefully, never taking her eyes from his.  She moved up toward him.  She was going to kiss him.

“I need to clean up that mess.”  He said, his voice sterner than he felt.

She paused, halfway toward him.  For a shadow of a moment she looked dismayed, but then she smiled.  And moved aside so he could get up.  That look she wore made him nervous.

He took a long moment before moving.  But she let him stand and move away from the chair without incident.  He’d been half-expecting to have to deflect her hands, dodge her advances, but it wasn’t necessary.  Again he wasn’t clear on whether or not that was slightly disappointing. 

She offered to help and got a small broom and dustpan, a brown paper bag and wet paper towels when he asked. 

Then he went for a jog.  He needed to get out of that house, away from her. 

He got dressed for a winter run and paused by the front door.  He was sure his sins were so awful that they’d be manifest on his person.  He checked himself in the hall mirror several times before finally bracing himself for the bitter air and the curious eyes of the neighbors.  With every step he was certain there’d be someone who’d know, some soul who would be able to see his scarlet letter.  But nothing happened.  Not even dogs barked at him in any unusual way.  He got a wave from the mailman, a polite nod from Mrs. Archer who was out walking the family Golden, and a friendly beep from Mr. and Mrs. Eisen who were on their way to Temple.

How could he commit such a heinous act and be allowed to carry on as if it had never happened?  The injustice of it sucked the air from his lungs and he was forced to pull off the sidewalk for a few minutes.  He gasped and sputtered and tried to force air into his lungs but the air was too cold, too sharp and he couldn’t draw more than a few tight breaths at a time.  Leaning there against a peeling papery birch tree, clutching his chest and hoping he didn’t black-out, he was temporarily elated.  Maybe there was a God after all and he, Jonah, was being smote for his unforgiveable sin.

But, after a moment or two, the tightness eased, air once again passed his trachea and he drew breath.  He lived.  He persisted.  Jonah vowed to stop donating to church charities.

He stayed out for more than an hour and sorely wished he could have stayed longer. But the bitter cold, a sore ankle and searing thoughts began to take their toll.  There’s only so long a man can be alone with himself, ask himself the same fruitless questions, replay the same scenarios in his mind before he can’t take another minute.  He decided to shower and collect himself in the guest house.  He wanted to delay that inevitable moment when he saw her again.

The Delaney’s guesthouse was an adorable cottage set a good distance back from the main house.  It had been Velvet’s pet project when the last of the girls entered kindergarten and she found herself in desperate need of a project to push away that empty-nest feeling.  Jonah knew in the spring the little european-style cottage would be crawling with fat pink roses and ensconced in story-book beds of wildflowers.  The Cottage and the surrounding gardens had been photographed for some home & garden magazine a few summers back.  It really was charming, he supposed, and the inside was perfect too.

It was cozy, but not close.  It had a classic aesthetic but maintained a simple modern elegance.  It had all the top-of-the-line amenities and felt exactly how a vacation retreat should feel.  The colors were soothing but not boring.  The décor was pleasing but not distracting.  It was a model home.

Jonah closed the door behind him and tossed the icy spare key he’d just retrieved from under one of those hollow rocks onto the entryway table.  It was quiet and serene and though the heat was only on minimally he already felt warmer just being out of the biting wind.

He didn’t bother turning on any lights, the natural daylight from the windows was enough. 

Careful not to disturb the pristine cottage he slipped his sneakers off where he stood, not wanting to track mud or dead leaves past the entry.  He peeled off his socks for good measure too and left them with the shoes.  Not for the first time he found himself thinking that he’d have been more than happy spending the rest of his life in this modest place with Velvet.  It was the kind of life he’d imagined for them when they’d met and fallen in love.

He pushed the image of his young bride to the back of his mind.  It caused him too much pain to think about her now.  He hadn’t the faintest idea how he would face her when she returned home tomorrow evening.  But he would have to.  He would have to act as though nothing had happened.  He wondered if he could make himself believe it.

With a frustrated sigh he headed toward the linen closet and withdrew a fluffy white towel and then headed into the bathroom.  During this shower he took the time to very thoroughly scrub and sanitize himself.  He’d rushed it before, in the quick, scalding shower upstairs.  Now he was careful, deliberate, methodical.  He looked down at himself and tried to imagine how this body had been capable of the depravity of the previous evening.

Flashes, images of carnal acts stole through his mind and he braced his palms against the dewy tiled walls and let the numbing heat of the water rain over the back of his neck.  The events of the previous evening were still blessedly hazy, far-away and only clear in small, graphic patches, but they were enough to weaken his knees.  He hoped he wouldn’t be able to remember much more, because if he did it might kill him.

He leaned his head back and took the full force of the water pressure on his face.  Maybe he could drown himself.

When he finally toweled off he resumed the business of asking himself a series of questions that he would repeat day after day from then on.  It started with ‘How did this happen?’  followed by ‘could I have prevented it?’, then something akin to ‘did I do something, anything to provoke it?’ this was a haunting one.  An uncomfortable one.

Jonah would spend hours upon hours thinking back, analyzing little moments, trying to see the unseeable.  Had he led her on?  Had he flirted with her?  Had he sent her any signals at all that could be construed as inappropriate?  And this led to more uncomfortable questions, such as, had he ever unwittingly sent such signals to his other daughters?  The thought always made him cold and clammy and faintly ill.

And the string of ponderings would inevitably lead him to one final question: would it happen again?

He adamantly refused to believe it could happen again.  He promised himself it would not happen again.  He didn’t want it.  He mustn’t want it.  And he would have to make her understand.  Make her see it clearly.

She’d taken choice away from him, robbed him of his senses and willpower and his ability to control himself.  He wouldn’t let that happen again.

But he had a sinking suspicion that the days and weeks and years ahead would not be easy to navigate.  Would be difficult almost beyond bearing.  His body was confused now, his mind broken.  He was no longer the man he should be, the husband he should be, the father. 

He padded down the hall to one of the three modest bedrooms and crossed to a handsome dark-wood art-deco dresser.  He and Velvet kept a few changes of clothes in there.  They often liked to have date-nights and would come back to the guest house after dinner and drinks, to continue the illusion of the date, to have privacy and a place where they could be Velvet and Jonah instead of Mom and Dad.

He dressed slowly.  He was beginning to understand that he would be alone with his daughter for the rest of the day and overnight as well.  Given the circumstances he doubted she could be convinced to visit friends or go for a sleepover somewhere.  The way she’d behaved at breakfast and then in the den told him she was likely to try again. 

Maybe he’d better talk with her.  Explain how it had to be.

He grimaced.  He didn’t yet trust himself to talk more about it.  He’d tried to make it clear that morning but she’d misinterpreted, told him “nobody has to know”, like she was his mistress, and he’d clammed up, been unable to do what he ought to have done.

He needed to find something to keep him occupied.

Slowly he pulled an old pair of jeans out of his drawer along with a comfortable blue pinstripe button down and set them on top of the dresser.  He needed other people around.  He shouldn’t be alone with her.  But the thought of other people made his skin crawl.  The way he’d been around Grey… he might give himself away at any moment, so heavy was the guilt.

He pulled open one of the smaller top drawers and withdrew a pair of boxer briefs.  He needed to keep her at arm’s length without appearing to shun or reject her.

He didn’t want to hurt her.

He ran a restless hand through his rapidly drying hair and tried hard to focus.  To stop seeing her big eyes staring innocently up at him.

He didn’t know where she was but she felt omnipresent now, he felt like those big purple eyes were always watching him, so he didn’t dare take the towel off; he slipped the boxers up under the damp terry-cloth  like he used to do at boyscout camp. 

And then he smiled, relief spreading through his limbs.  He had an idea.