Chapter Four

 

Chapter Four

            The following morning, and several after, Brian acted as if nothing had ever happened. So much so that Sophie began to wonder if maybe the whole unsettling incident had just been a bad dream. But it felt so real that it just couldn't have been as such. And so she came to silently attribute it to his then-drunken state of mind. Because of this, she decided to keep the whole sordid situation to herself. After all, it was probably just a mistake and he's surely never do anything like that again.

            Then one morning, just a few days before her 13th birthday, Brian stopped her on the stairs up to her room.

            "Hey there," he said, with a charming smile. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

            "We're going to the beach," she replied. "So I have to go get my bathing suit."

            "Well, do you have a minute for your dear old dad?" He asked.

            "Sure." She leaned her back against the wall.

            "I just wanted to talk about the other night," he said, "a few weeks ago. Do you remember that at all honey?"

            "Sort of," she said, though she still couldn't get any detail of it out of her mind.

            "Well I don't know what you do remember, but I just wanted to let you know that I was very drunk that night. And I didn't know what I was doing. Does that make any sense to you, sweetheart?" He asked attentively.

            She nodded slowly, even though it didn't make much sense to her. Although he had been drinking, he hadn't seemed like he wasn't in control of his actions. Still, it was better than considering the alternative; that her father – step or not – had willingly and consciously come to her bedroom at night.

            He smiled brightly. "Good. Then we should keep this between just us. It's not even worth talking about again. Right?"

            "Okay," she agreed, silently willing him to leave.

            He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, honey." He looked into her eyes. "More than anything."

            "Love you too," she replied quickly, before scurrying away and into her room. Ever since that fateful night, she'd felt so uncomfortable being alone with him. He didn't quite feel like a father anymore – he was beginning to feel more like a stranger.

            On the morning of her thirteenth birthday, as everything was being set up downstairs, Oliver came to her room brandishing a small, gift-wrapped box.

            "Happy Birthday," he said with a wide grin.

            Sophie smiled. "Is that for me?" She asked, though she knew full well the answer.

            "Of course. And it's sort of special, so I wanted to give it to you before you open anything else."

            She smiled as she opened the box, and widened her eyes in delight at its contents. Set against black velvet lied a silver charm bracelet with three charms attached to it – a horse shoes, a yellow glass daisy, and a charm with a ruby, her birthstone.

            "It's beautiful!" She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Ollie. Help me put it on."

            His hands shook nervously as he clasped it around her slender wrist.

            She held up her arm to admire it. "This is so thoughtful," she said. "How'd you decide which charms to get? And how'd you afford it? It must've cost a fortune and I know your dad doesn't like to spoil you."

            He laughed. "Well not that you need to know, but my mom loaned me the money because she knew how important this was to me. And the charms – well, the daisy is because of those flowers I gave you the night of the dance, the horse shoe is for good luck, and the ruby is your birthstone. I mean, I think it is – is it?"

            She laughed. "Yes, it is. And I love it! Thank you, Oliver." She stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek.

            He smiled, visibly blushing. "Happy Birthday."

            For the party, they hired a D.J. to play all of Sophie's favorite songs, and the catered food was mostly shellfish – another of her favorites. A long table held her many unopened gifts from the families invited, and the kids they'd met over the summer on the boardwalk.

            Sophie smiled with excitement as she opened the French doors to the backyard, making her entrance to her party. She wore a knee-length baby blue cotton dress that brought out her deep tan, white flip flops, and her charm bracelet. Her golden hair fell about her shoulders in soft curls, and she'd treated herself to a bit of lip gloss and blush. But only a little – she was undoubtedly a natural beauty on her own.

            Guests stopped to stare, Jillian smiled, proud to be her best friend, and Oliver had to restrain himself from going over and kissing her right there. She was Cinderella and this was her ball.

* * * *

            The evening wore on perfectly – Jillian and Sophie were seated at a table in the corner, holding court, and Oliver was talking to some of the other boys about the girls. Their parents were scattered about the lawn and inside of the house and everyone was enjoying themselves immensely. And then, Brian decided to make a toast.

            Standing at the D.J.'s table, he held up his flute of champagne and lightly tapped it with a fork.

            "Can I please have everyone's attention?" He asked over the microphone.

            Sophie and Jillian exchanged horrified glances and Sophie scooted down in her seat.

            "Where's the birthday girl?" He asked with a grin. "Where's my little woman?" His eyes searched the crowd of guests until finally settling on her in the corner. "There she is! Come on up here, honey."

            She groaned, forced a smile, and reluctantly stood up.

            "Sorry," Jillian whispered sympathetically.

            Sophie glanced at her as if to say Oh God, kill me, and made her way to Brian.

            He smiled as wrapped an arm around her waist as she stood beside him.

            "Doesn't she look beautiful tonight?" Brian asked into the microphone.

            Everyone clapped politely, making Sophie flush an even deeper red than she already was.

            "I guess our girl is a woman now," he continued. "But you boys better keep your hands off her," he joked.

            Sophie crossed her arms over her chest, squirming uncomfortably with him arm around her. She could smell on him a nauseating mixture of alcohol and his favorite aftershave. It was how he always smelled these days, how he'd smelled that night in her room, when things had suddenly changed between them forever.

            She tuned him out as he embarrassingly went on about her womanhood and maturity. Her eyes fell to the ground, where she instead conjured up an image of Oliver that made her smile.

            ". . . And with that, let's have a toast," Brian concluded. "To the birthday girl, my special little woman Sophie."

            The guests applauded, sipping their drinks as Brian offered his champagne to Sophie.

            "No, thanks," she said quickly.

            "Go on," he urged. "It's okay." He held the glass to her lips, practically forcing the liquid down her throat. He kept pouring until almost the entire glass was empty. "Good girl," he said. Bringing the microphone back up, he smiled graciously. "Have a great time, everybody."

            As the music returned, Brian leaned down to peck Sophie's cheek. "I'll see you later, honey," he whispered before returning to the party.

            She wiped his moist breath off of her ear and walked back to Jillian.

            "Wow," Jillian said as she sat down. "And I thought my parents were bad."

            Sophie groaned. "Don't even get me started."

            "At least he let you drink champagne – that was pretty cool. How did it taste?"

            "Not very cool at all," Sophie replied, hastily wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

            The party didn't begin to wind down until well after midnight, and by then Oliver, Jillian, and Sophie were falling asleep on each other on the beach.

            "We should probably head back," Sophie said sleepily.

            Oliver lifted his head from her stomach. "I'm too tired to do that."

            "Me, too," Jillian agreed, from where her head rested on Sophie's shoulder.     

            "Let's just sleep out here," Oliver said, closing his eyes.

            "Yeah," Jillian agreed, followed by a yawn.

            "Come on," Sophie said, sitting up. "I won't be able to fall asleep on this lumpy sand and our parents will kill us."

            They headed back to the house just as the last of the party-goers were leaving.

            Brian spotted the three of them coming back from the beach and hurried over. "Where did you guys run off to?" He demanded, waving at a departing guest.

            "We were on the beach," Sophie replied with a shrug.

            "Well perhaps it's time to get ready for bed now," Brian said tightly.

            "What's the problem?" Sophie asked, felling bolder than usual. "We were just on the beach – what's the big deal?"

            "The big deal," he said, "is that you left you own party. You have no regard for anyone's feelings, Sophie – especially me."

            She rolled her eyes. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly feeling an inclination to stick up to Brian's irrational claims. She was finally realizing how much of a martyr he was always trying to make himself out to be, and she was getting tired of it.

            "Don't roll your eyes at me," he said sharply. He looked at Oliver and Jillian. "You two can go in. I'd like to speak with my daughter alone."

            They looked at Sophie unsurely but she nodded and they reluctantly went in.

            Brian turned his attention back to her. "You are going to need to start showing some respect," he said. "Or, you'll have to start being punished. Your mother and I have never had to ground you, but maybe we should start now."

            "I didn't even do anything!" She protested.

            "You might think that this new little attitude is cool," he continued, ignoring her, "but it's not. It's getting old really fast, Sophie. So knock it off."

            "This is ridiculous!" She protested. "I haven't even done anything wrong!"

            Before he could reply, she ran past him, inside, and up to her room.

            He stared after her, his hands balled into angry fists at his sides.

            "What was that about?"

            He spun around to see Molly standing before him, holding a stack of plates.

            He blinked. "What?"

            She nodded toward the doorway. "That fight you were just having with our daughter," she said pointedly. "What happened?"

            "Oh, nothing," he replied quickly. "Juts teenage hormones starting early."

            She narrowed her eyes. "What's going on with you lately? You've been on her ever since she and Oliver started getting close. There's nothing wrong with it, Brian. He's a good kid and we know him. It's not like its some random boy that we've never even met."

            "Nothing is going on with me," he said coldly. "Why do you automatically assume that she hasn't done anything wrong? That I am to blame? She's the teenager with all of her little emotions out of whack. I am just responding to them."

            "I don't know about that," she said. "Sophie's been fine with me."

            He rolled his eyes. "I'm not having this conversation. I'm done." He turned away but she grabbed his arm. He roughly shook her off, causing her to wobble back and drop the stack of plates.

            She gasped, and then her eyes met his. "Don't you dare shove me like that again," she said furiously.

            "Oh, calm down," he sneered. "I barely even touched you – you shouldn't have grabbed me like that."

            She bent down to gather the broken shards of glass. "I'm getting really tired of this," she said. "Things are only getting worse between us and your relationship with Sophie is starting to become a little unhealthy."

            "What?" He said sharply. "What did you just say to me?"

            "You heard me," she said, her head down as she continued to pick up the glass.

            "I have treated that girl better than anybody from day one," Brian said indignantly. "I have always been there for her; isn't that what you want? What have I done that is so bad?"

            She glanced up at him. "You know what you're doing, Brian."

            "Do I?" He demanded. "Well I'd like you to tell me then. Please, Molly, tell me what I'm doing that's so wring because you obviously know everything."

            She slammed down the remaining plate segments and stood up.

            "I think we should spend some time apart," she said by way of reply.

            He blinked several times, taken aback. "A separation? What do you want – a divorce?"

            She sighed. "I don't know, Brian. But I do think that maybe Sophie and I should move out for a little while. Maybe we'll go stay with my parents."

            "They live in Chicago."

            "That's the point – it's far enough so that you and I could have some breathing room for awhile."

            "You can't take Sophie away." He started at her, so calm and void of emotion that it frightened her.

            "Yes, I can," Molly replied, trying to keep her composure. "You can't think that if we were to split up, you'd keep her."

            "You're not going to take her away from me," he repeated. "I would never allow that to happen."

            "I'm going to bed," she said, anxious to get away from him in his current state.

            As she walked past, he grabbed her wrist and in one swift movement pulled her into a small alcove on the side of the house. No one was around – everyone had long since gone to bed or left. And to cry out would only frighten the children, so Molly remained silent, pinned up against the cool brick wall.

            "We're not going to separate," Brian said evenly. "And you are not going to leave me. You and Sophie will always be mine."

            She squirmed, trying to free herself from his grasp. "You're crazy if you really think you're going to hold us prisoner!" She admonished.

            He hand flew to her throat, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "You're not going to leave me, Molly. I love the both of you far too much to let that happen." He gave her throat a squeeze before kissing her forehead and pushing her away.

            She leaned against the wall, coughing and sputtering.

            "I'm going inside," he said, smoothing the creases in his polo shirt. "Clean this mess up, will you?"

            He left her there, sobbing quietly and touching her throat where his hand has just been.