Supernova

by Anne Leigh

  He’d hidden the truth about blackmailing Kara to be with me. This time, I wanted to get the truth from him. Did he do it? Did he harass his long-term employee? Rissa was fifteen years his junior. Being my father’s secretary had been her first job since she’d graduated from college. She was charming and nice from the many times I’d met her and talked to her.

  “Our lawyer is handling everything.” His face, normally set in stone and power, was now lined with worry. My father was in his early fifties yet he didn’t show his age. He was an avid runner and tennis player. The appearance of crow’s feet by his eyes and the small lines against his forehead were the only indicators that he was aging.

  I took a deep breath and felt my lungs constrict, “So it’s true. You harassed Rissa.”

  Bridge’s audible gasp was loud in the silence that encumbered the walls of this hospital room.

  “It’s none of your concern, son. I’m here because I want to know how you are.” His eyes, reminiscent of mine, were weary and tired. “I talked to Conner, he said that everything’s good. You’re cleared to fly and you can play again in no time.”

  Funny how he was now concerned about my playing time. Samuel Strauss couldn’t be bothered to look at the football field when I played. He was too busy handling deals and managing a university that his face never left the screen of his phone.

  “Conner also said that –“

  “Fuck what Dr. Jackson said. We both know why you’re here, Dad. You’re not here for me. You’re here because you’re trying to make me see your side.” My father was great at mitigation and restitution. “You cheated on Stef.”

  His face was hard, his facial muscles were moving and I knew he was getting angry, “I didn’t cheat on Stef. I only had a few indiscretions with Rissa, but that was it.”

  “Is that what you’re calling it now? Indiscretions? Is that what your attorney’s coaching you to say?” Throughout the years I’d heard my father judge so many of his friends for having affairs and cheating on their wives. Seems like the stone-thrower should be dumping rocks all over himself. “Does Stef even know?”

  “I’m not here to discuss Stef or Rissa.” His posture was dismissive. I’d seen it when he thought something was absurd, when he wanted me out of his office because I wanted clearance to play football, when he thought that the subject matter wasn’t worthy of a discussion. “I’m here because I’m concerned for you.”

  “Bullshit.” I clenched my teeth, “You’re here because you’re saving face.”

  “Rissa will be making a statement soon, withdrawing the charges,” he said smugly and I’d never wanted to punch my father until now. “Our lawyer has reached a deal with her. She won’t be making any noise from now on.”

  “Are you going to tell Stef the truth?” I asked, knowing my stepmom deserved it. He was my blood, but she was closer to my heart. I hadn’t been an easy child, but she was patient and understanding. She’d stayed with me when I was confined in the hospital and reassured me that everything would be okay.

  My father looked away for a second and his hand went to his phone, his pacifier.

  “If you’re paying someone to hide what you did when you and her were alone together, it means that you did something wrong. Didn’t you tell me, Dad, that marriage is sacred? That adultery was a sin? What is it – thou shalt not covet?” I couldn’t contain the disgust in my voice; I’d gone to a private religious school for my elementary years. Every single one of my teachers loved my father. They said he was the epitome of an upstanding man. When he met Stef, he’d married her within a year and they’d been the picture perfect rendition of a great and holy marriage.

  “You don’t understand. It’s different…” He said defensively, his arms hanging tight against his sides as he walked around the room. “Rissa was a mistake.”

  “Ah. Rules only apply to you when you want them to. Rissa’s a mistake since you were found out. I’ve never wanted a perfect dad. I just wanted you to be a good one.” I said, his dishonesty ripping out the respect I had of him, “You should really tell Stef before someone else tells her.”

  My dad’s face turned stormy and his stance was rigid when he uttered, “You’re not going to say anything to Stef. This is between me and her. You don’t know what it’s like so you have no right to judge me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I answered, standing up so I could move towards Bridge who hadn’t said anything this whole time. She was watching as an observer, staying as my girlfriend, holding out her hand as my lover. “I have every right to judge you. You have interfered with my life for as long as I can remember. You’ve blackmailed Kara, and we both got hurt because of it. You’ve told me many times how much you hated football.”

  “You are your mother’s son.” He was now shooting insults with his stare and they kept coming. “You think you know everything now because you’re a million dollar athlete? You think you’re high and mighty because you’re popular? You think you’re perfect because your life is all glitz and glamour? You could have another seizure and everything will come crashing down on you. All it takes is another one and you’re done, Scott.”

  Bridge’s hands were soothing against my back as I sat beside her, “I am my mother’s son. The woman who died in childbirth while giving me life. The same woman whose money jumpstarted the business that you’ve sold yourself to. The woman who even in her grave showed me how much she loved me with the inheritance she’d secured for me as soon as she found out that she was pregnant. If you think I’m playing for popularity and all the shit that came with football, then you really don’t know me.”

  “I’ve wasted enough time being here. I have a flight to catch in an hour. This-” my father’s hands gestured in the air, “was worthless.”

  “There it is, another truth from you.” There were times when I thought my father was callous and cold, but I never thought of him to be hateful. I knew different now.

  “I’ve done everything I could to make your life as good as it is now. You’ll never see it from my point of view until you’re in my position.” He wasn’t wasting words now, the hits were coming out left and right, “I didn’t ask for a son like you, one who threw useless balls for a living. I wanted a son who would continue my legacy, be the force in academia and set trends in the business world. I keep trying, but I keep failing.”

  Bridge’s hand tightened on mine, and just as I was about to respond, she cut in.

  “That’s enough, Mr. Strauss. It’s best if you leave.” Bridge’s voice shook in fury. “I’ve heard enough.”

  “Who are you?” My father’s eyes landed on Bridge and a strange look passed over his face, “Ah. Bridgette Cordello. My son’s current girlfriend. I wondered how long you’d be quiet before you started to defend him.”

  “Please get out.” Bridge’s hands were clammy. “Scott has been through a lot. He doesn’t need any more stress right now.”

  My dad placed his finger against his mouth, looking like he was in deep thought. “It’s amazing how therapy and years of speech lessons can teach a woman like you to speak normal.”

  “Get out,” Bridge said. “You have no right.”

  “What the hell?” My brows shot up, “You had her investigated? You’re really something, Dad.”

  “Kara would have been the better match for you. She’s got the finesse of a princess and she was an obedient woman.” My father mocked, “But you blew your chances with her.”

  “Fuck off.” My voice grated with rage, “Get out, Father, before I call security on you. You’re not needed here.”

  Bridge stood up, and her eyes misted as the words came out of her, “You’re wrong, Mr. Strauss. Kara wouldn’t have been a better match for Scott. You know why I know that?”

  My dad waved his hand as if it was of no-consequence while walking towards the door.

  “Because no one would love Scott as much as I do.” Bridge stated, “He’s an amazing guy, your son. His brain might work against him sometimes
, but he doesn’t let it rule over him. He’s a fighter and he’s honest and loyal. He would never do the underhanded things that you did with whoever this Rissa person is.”

  I interrupted my father when he looked like he was going to say something, “If you won’t tell Stef, someone will. Be careful of what you do because it will be done to you ten times over. This is the first and last time I’m going to say this, leave my relationship with Bridge alone. You are not a part of it. Maybe one day, when she and I get married, I’ll be inviting Stef. I’m not so sure about you yet.”

  My father’s face blanched. “You got this all wrong.”

  “No Dad,” I said with a deep sigh, sometimes things happened so that we’d see the true identity of people, even the ones we’d come to call as family. “I think I finally got it right.”

  With that, I closed the door on him.

  He would always be my father.

  But he didn’t always have to be in my life.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered in Bridge’s ear as her scent filled my nose, feeling the weight of exhaustion come over me.

  “For what?” She asked rhetorically, massaging my arms as we stood by the foot of the small bed.

  “For having a shitty dad.”

  Her laugh wasn’t expected, but it was most welcome. It’s just what I needed after the past day and a half of stressful events.

  “Oh babe. I know what it’s like.” Her hazel eyes beamed at me with so much love. “I guess now we’re even.”

  Bridgette

  I wasn’t comfortable being in front of the cameras.

  The last time I was interviewed was when I was under a year old, when I was proficient in gurgles, coos, and once in a while, Mama and Dada.

  So to say I was nervous would be an understatement of the decade.

  I could’ve said no, but I had a bigger reason for doing this.

  My mother was launching a charitable foundation, partially funded by my brother’s rise to fame as an elite athlete, and the other half from the goodness of her own heart.

  Now, don’t get me wrong.

  That’s what my mother said.

  Truthfully, Cordello Beauty had skyrocketed in the past year so she was advised by her business partners that it would be great to have a charitable foundation so that the company would look great in the public’s eyes.

  My brother had done his part.

  He’d smiled and provided media bytes that would be blasted through various news channels.

  Now it was my turn.

  I’d promised my mom that I’d be more involved in her business.

  She’d done her part – she’d helped me navigate the media scrutiny that came with being Scott’s girlfriend.

  The least I could do was this. And fifty arts and crafts organizations would be funded across the country if I did a fifteen minute interview. Paint Me Mine was one of them. I was still in touch with my former students’ parents, and all of them were excited about the news that arts would be given so much attention. Funding from the government had decreased, and like me, they didn’t want arts to go down the drain and die.

  To me, that was the most rewarding part.

  You’ll do great, babe. Scott’s text came through as the producer mic’d me. Don’t forget to smile.

  I’d been doing mock interviews with him for two weeks now, in between practicing with Tre and Misha, my mother’s media specialist. All through Facetime.

  Since Scott had been cleared to play, he’s been flying or on the team bus traveling for the road games. We barely had time for each other, but we made time. Thank you, I responded back with a smiley face.

  “You ready, Bridgette?” Kalia Krawley, Inside The Life’s special features correspondent, asked. I got why my mother thought she would be a great match for me. She made me feel at home and she had a friendly vibe.

  The interview would be broadcasted on the seven o’ clock segment of Entertainment Now’s channel.

  The green light was on, and I felt the nerves rush through me.

  “Here we are with the elusive Bridgette Cordello,” Kalia said, her flawless smile meant to charm the viewers. “I say elusive because your mom, Bettina, has done hundreds of interviews, but we’ve never really sat down with you.”

  I gave her a small smile, not looking at the camera. “I didn’t think there was any need for me.”

  Tre said it was okay not to look at the camera in front of me. The studio had cameras everywhere, so they were filming from all angles. They’d have the footage that they wanted of me.

  “And now?” Kalia asked, “What’s changed?”

  “Give Back Now is a great organization that will provide funds to those who need it. I’m personally invested in the arts, and I want to be the voice of Cordello Beauty in that aspect.” I found myself speaking from the heart. With the money that would be funneled through the brick and mortar buildings that housed young artists, they’d be given a voice through arts.

  “That’s a very noble cause.” Kalia led on, “Since we’re talking about voices…is it true that you didn’t have a voice until you were almost a teen?”

  I remembered the day my mother asked me if I wanted to do an interview. She knew I would say no, but she’d dangled ‘arts’ in front of me. Then to top it off, she’d asked me how great it would be if I could talk about what I went through to gain back my speech.

  In a way, I guess it was her way of adding to her apology. She never denied that she was embarrassed of me when I couldn’t speak.

  “It’s true.” I talked about how I lost my voice after an emotional trauma, and when I started talking, I stuttered and stammered and I couldn’t form complete sentences. Kalia’s eyes became watery as I talked about my experiences. “If I wasn’t given appropriate interventions, I’m sure I wouldn’t be talking in front of you today.”

  “Give Back Now will also be advocating for speech disorders right?” Kalia asked even when she already knew the answer.

  “Yes. Twenty percent will be funding organizations that help children who have speech and brain disorders.” This was another reason why I did the interview. It was expensive to get treatment, and I acknowledged that without my family’s wealth, I wouldn’t have had the success I had. It was time to give back. I’d personally talked to our lawyer to see if I could give part of the money I’d inherited from my father to fund this cause.

  “Your boyfriend is Scott Strauss.” She stated, “He talked about having seizures while playing for the NFL. Could this be another reason why this charity is close to your heart?”

  Scott conducted a twenty minute interview about having seizures when he was a child and recently, now that he played for the NFL. His agent had advised against it, but ultimately it was Scott’s decision. We were nervous about the fallout, but everyone had been very supportive. The league and its players had given him outstanding support, and other famous athletes divulged their own medical struggles while playing the sport that they loved.

  What pre-empted Scott to do the interview was the constant threat that his medical condition would be leaked to the press.

  One night, while we were talking on the phone, he’d asked the question, “What if there’s another kid like me? What if he or she’s thinking right now that they’re hindered by their disease?”

  He had played four games since the day he’d had the seizure, and he wasn’t showing signs of slowing down.

  The Royals’ were in playoff contention, and what was even better was his newfound camaraderie with Dex.

  They’d become friends and Dex even showed up in the green room when Scott had done the interview, along with the rest of the Royals. They all wanted to show the world that they were behind their quarterback.

  “Yes. We all struggle with something, and I want everyone who’s watching to know that there is someone out there to help them.” There was no shaking in my voice, only determination to get my message across.

  “This is really amazing, Bridgette,” Kalia said
and I gave her a big smile.

  “Thank you. A lot of people have made this possible. There isn’t enough time to thank all of them, but I just want them to know that every single one of them is appreciated,” I said, my chest puffing out in gratitude. I knew that nothing would be possible without my brother’s support, and now my mother’s. Scott had also been a huge shoulder to lean on when we were brainstorming about the specific organizations to target.

  We couldn’t give to all.

  But we could give to some, and that mattered.

  “Is this true?” Kalia asked, her eyes were wide in amazement.

  “What is?”

  “You’re fluent in five languages?”

  My face heated, I didn’t really like to flaunt that I knew five languages. Almost seven if the other two dialects were counted.

  I nodded and said, “Yes.”

  Tre probably gave her that tidbit.

  “You didn’t speak for a long time yet you learned all these languages?” She asked in awe.

  No one had really put it that way. I thought about it for a second, and then I said, “When I couldn’t speak, art found its way into my heart. My mind became a sponge for words and I found myself thinking and wanting to speak in diverse languages. I listened and watched movies from different cultures all across the globe, trying to find myself and identify with them.”

  Her brown eyes were suspended in honest appraisal, “Did you find yourself?”

  “Yes, but I’m still learning every day.”

  She gave me a quick smile, and her face turned towards the camera, thanking the viewers for watching the segment.

  When she was done, she held out her hands for me, “You’re an amazing person, Bridgette.”

  Years ago, her compliment would have made me so uncomfortable. But like I said, every day, I was still learning. Scott gave me lots of compliments, and slowly I was getting the hang of them. I also gave them right back when they were well-deserved. “Thank you. You’re a great interviewer.”

  We exchanged pleasantries and Kalia excused herself to prep for another segment. I was soon engulfed in the scent of seawater and fruits.