5. ETHAN
5
ETHAN
I watch in amusement as Liam laughs at his sister over the phone.
He told me beforehand that Sophia freaks out when he calls because he usually only does so when he has bad news.
I could hear her shouting on the other end.
“Liam, what is it? Is it dad, is he OK?”
I know Mr. Delgado has had a history of heart problems. He’s been OK for the last several years, but his family keeps an eye out for any problems he might be having.
Our family has a different dynamic. I think the first thing we think about when a family member is ill is, am I about to inherit a fortune?
Our relationships are primarily transactional.
My father had not been home when I returned from lunch.
I was ready to get into it with him.
But who am I kidding? I always crumble when it comes to confrontations with him.
Liam had called me over after his sister told him I had pulled her from the water. It was good to reconnect.
I had called him after I got discharged, but life intervened, and we haven’t really gotten back together since I got back.
Liam is working long hours as a software engineer for a video game developer, and I’ve been—well, I guess that’s mostly on me.
He offered to make dinner for me as a thank you, and he thought his sister should be there since, after all, she was the one who I saved.
I don’t necessarily think I need to be rewarded. I was just acting on instinct, and it just happened to be her.
I think it’s high time we bury the hatchet, so to speak. Her only reason for apparently disliking me is that she dislikes my family and what they represent to her.
She should appreciate that I’m blowing off my family tonight to spend it with her brother and her. My father was very insistent that they needed to speak with me tonight, but I don’t answer to him anymore.
I’ve never had an issue with her aside from the fact that I find her acting like her brother’s overseer particularly annoying. I get that she feels like I’m a bad influence.
I’ll admit that I’m not the most ethical person. I’m more an end justifies the means kinda guy, but I’ve never made Liam do anything he wouldn’t otherwise do. I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I did.
That’s the one thing I’m most proud of. When it comes to my friends, I’m fiercely loyal. I don’t have a lot of them, but those I do have can trust me implicitly. That extends to their loved ones as well.
My folks are going to be pissed that I dipped out on the family meeting they had planned for this evening.
Since I left the Navy, I’ve been staying in the two-bedroom seaside cottage on the family compound. I really should get my own place away from them, but my mother likes me close by, especially when my father leaves town.
I never really understood that because she never had a problem with that while I was deployed.
I have no idea what kind of scheme they’re cooking up. If I knew them, it couldn’t be on the up-and-up. I don’t know where they ever came up with the saying crime doesn’t pay, but whoever said that didn’t know my family.
I have to give them credit, they are always very careful in avoiding getting caught.
They could always make it appear that they didn’t have any direct involvement in anything overtly criminal. Even if they were somehow connected, someone else always took the fall.
My father, Edward, trained as a lawyer, never worked an honest day in his life. His father, my grandfather, made his money peddling real estate – and influence. The latter ended up being far more profitable than the first.
Money and politics always equals corruption, and there’s plenty of that to go around. And it feeds on itself. There’s never enough money. It gets to the point where you don’t need the money anymore, it’s just a game, like Monopoly gone mad.
The problem is, I can’t condemn it completely, I’ve become accustomed to the lifestyle. It was how my parents were able to send me to the best schools (and afford the tutors). We ate the finest food and had the nicest toys. Life was good. Still is to some extent.
Only before was I ever involved in the machinery that generated the means by which to accomplish all this. I was insulated. Now, I feared I was going to be asked to take my seat at the table.
Maybe my enlistment in the Navy was less a need to prove myself as it was the chance to get away from my family.
I need a drink.
“Mind if I make myself a scotch,” I ask Liam, moving over to his little bar set up in the corner.
“Not at all, in fact, make me one while you’re at it.”
I have to hand it to Liam, he knows his scotch, He buys only the best.
Dalmore is a 16-year-old scotch, which, while not outrageously expensive, is considered by many experts to be the best. Just goes to show, where whisky is concerned, expensive doesn’t always mean the best.
I pour two glasses – neat of course. Ice ruins the complexity of the liquor, and it would be a shame to ruin a good glass of scotch.
I down it in one gulp and pour another.
Sophia arrives at seven sharp. Always prompt that one.
Liam had always been a good cook. Learned it from his mom, who was a pretty fair cook herself. Tonight, lasagna is on the menu, and I could already smell the delicious scent of garlic and oregano wafting through the little frame rental house a few blocks from the beach when I arrived.
I teased Liam that he could afford a better place, but being the logical guy he is, he reasoned that it was a good place to land and save up money until he found the perfect home to settle down in. It was hard to argue with that.
He has a semi-serious girlfriend named Gracie who was out-of-town; otherwise, she would likely have joined us.
The two had started dating after I had deployed, but Liam would post about the two of them on social media. He’s happy, and that’s what matters. I actually look forward to meeting her in person.
I’m completely taken by surprise when Sophia walks in the door. My heart skips a beat.
She’s dressed in a solid pastel coral-colored halter dress that shows off her soft, sun-kissed shoulders scattered with freckles from hours spent under the summer sun.
Her shoulder-length chestnut hair cascades down in loose waves, and around her neck is a silver pendant shaped like a tiny hummingbird, given to her as a gift from her brother years ago. Her emerald eyes sparkle with life, and for the briefest moment, I’m convinced I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.
Only two drinks in, it’s apparent Liam is already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. I have a higher tolerance, but I can feel my inhibitions lowering.
I venture a smile at Sophia, “You look very nice, Sophia, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress, at least not recently.”
“Thank you,” she says, forcing a smile. Obviously, this is going to take more work than I had hoped.
“Your brother was telling me you just graduated with a degree in marketing,” I say.
“Dean’s list, baby,” Liam calls out from the kitchen, clearly proud of his little sister.
“Impressive,” I nod.
“Not really,” she responds, reddening at the compliment. I could see she was loosening up.
“It’s not like I’m studying astrophysics or anything. It’s just marketing, building campaigns, advertising, that kind of thing. Common sense really.”
“Don’t discount that. Hey, you made the grades, it’s something to be proud of.”
I’m not being completely sincere. I have a pretty low opinion of liberal arts degrees, but if I’m trying to make nice, insulting her chosen area of study isn’t the way to go about it.
As dinner progresses, I think back to one of the lessons we were taught by an instructor in Naval Intelligence.
Acting like you are under the influence of alcohol makes people around you more relaxed and willing to open up. They see you as being more vulnerable.
It might be worth seeing how susceptible she is to suggestions.
By the time dinner is over, there is definitely a thaw in our relationship. She’s not exactly friendly, but we manage to make conversation without the contemptuous glances or sarcastic comments.
It’s progress.
I make my excuses and begin to leave when Liam, who’s now beginning to sober up, protests that I really shouldn’t be driving and Sophia should drive me home.
She shoots him an evil glance.
That’s more than I hoped for, but sure, why not? I make feeble protests, but eventually give in and agree to let her drive me. I’ll come by for my car tomorrow.
As we drive the short distance to my family compound, I try to engage her in small talk but receive mostly polite but noncommittal responses.
When she pulls into my driveway, she sighs and puts her head down on the steering wheel of her sporty Audi coupe.
“What?” I ask, feeling at least a little concerned.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I respond, unsure of what’s coming.
“Can we, uh, go for a walk?” she asks.
“Uh, sure, I guess,” I reply, stepping out of the car.
We’re only about 50 yards from the beach, and so she takes off her flat sandals and heads in the direction of the water.
“Do you ever feel like you’re lost?” she asks, looking out over the ocean rather than at me.
“What do you mean?” I’m not catching on.
She stops and turns to me. She is a vision of loveliness, her form silhouetted against the ocean in the descending darkness, the stiff ocean breeze playing with her hair.
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you out here, especially after you’ve had a few.” She turns and begins to slowly walk back to her car.
I break into a soft laugh. “To tell you the truth, I’m not really drunk. I just wanted to see if I could get you to open up.”
She’s close enough now that I can make out her features in the full moonlight. The scowl on her face collapsed into a thin smile. “You tricked me?”
“Well, sort of. I didn’t anticipate you driving me home. That was all Liam.”
I take her hand, almost without thinking about it, to guide her back down to the beach. To my surprise, she doesn’t resist.
“This may come as a surprise to you,” I tell her, “but I’m not as confident as I try to pass myself off as being.”
“You might think, being a SEAL, I’d have it all figured out. That’s what they taught us, you know, never let the people you command know that you don’t know what to do. Always project confidence, otherwise, you’ll kill morale. So, I fake it ‘til I make it.”
She studies my face, and I regret being so honest. That’s not like me at all. Maybe I am feeling the effects of the booze after all.
“I’m scared,” she admits. “Scared that I don’t have what it takes to make it ... or even fake it.”
“Everybody is scared of something,” I assure her.
She shoots me a skeptical look.
“I’m afraid of my parents, scared of what they might ask me to do. I mean, you’re aware of their reputation, and while I might sometimes color outside of the lines, there are places I won’t go.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure,” I explain. “I overheard my father on the phone with his lawyer. He mentioned my name, but I couldn’t make out what they were talking about.”
“So, you really aren’t like your parents?”
“Depends on who you ask, I guess,” I tell her, pausing briefly. “I guess my point is you’re still figuring life out. Don’t stress about it.”
She has an odd expression on her face.
“You know, I never did thank you for saving my life.”
“Sure you did,” I respond with a little laugh.
“Not really,” she replies, leaning in.
I’m expecting a sisterly kiss on the cheek until her lips meet mine.