Love Always,

by Sonya Loveday

  The pillow was wrenched from my grasp and came down over various spots of my body. “Where have you been?”

  Her tone was pitching to the point of glass-shattering proportions and I pinched my eyes closed, sucking giant gulps of air into my lungs through my mouth.

  “The whole resort was searching for you last night! Sophia had her father’s best men out looking for you!”

  I shot up, clutching my head to keep it from falling off. “What?”

  She hit me with the pillow again. My body, in no way ready to be abused, revolted, and I made it into the bathroom with no time to spare.

  “You’ve been drinking!” she screeched as she slapped at my head.

  I dogged her blows only long enough to curl up like a cocktail shrimp on the floor, seeking the coolness of the tile against my clammy skin.

  “Amelia, what are you doing? Leave. I’ll handle the boy.” The deep tenor of my father’s voice boomed over my mother’s slew of badgering words.

  “You better fix this, Phillip. We’re the laughing stock of the entire resort because of his escapades,” Mother demanded.

  “They wouldn’t have been looking for him if you would have just left it alone. I told you he’d come back, but you went against what I said and sounded the alarm. Maybe next time, you’ll listen to me instead of going off on one of your insufferable tangents.”

  I didn’t move throughout their entire argument. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. And when Mother left with a cry of outrage, I thanked the good Lord she had gone, and then shivered in fear of what sort of reaction I’d get from my father. And prayed he’d wait until my head stopped pounding like a bass drum before he started in on me.

  From my curled position on the floor, I could hear him moving around my room. His hushed footsteps on the carpet. The sound of a phone dialing, and then the quite murmur of his voice as he ordered, of all things, breakfast.

  My stomach rolled in protest, and I found myself hugging the toilet bowl as I vomited the lining of my stomach up.

  The sink turned on briefly, and then a cold cloth was laid against the back of my neck as my father said, “Tied a good one on last night, didn’t you?”

  “Mmpff,” I answered, hoping he’d get the meaning without further explanation.

  “Seems to me that you’re paying for it good enough that I don’t have to do much else,” he said, touching my shoulder briefly as a slight knock sounded on the door.

  “Where is he? Is he all right?” Sophia asked. Her voice nipped the air like an over-excited Chihuahua.

  “He’s fine. Just a touch of food poisoning. He isn’t up for company just now. I’m sure you understand,” my father answered. The tone in his voice not only told me that he wasn’t going to let her in, but it told her too.

  “But if I could just…” Sophia whined.

  “No, you may not. Thank you for your concern, Miss Kennedy, but Phillip needs his rest and I will not allow him to be disturbed.”

  The door closed firmly, muffling whatever else she said behind the wood. If I could move, I would have hugged my father for keeping her away.

  It wasn’t five minutes later before another knock came at the door.

  Breakfast had arrived, curdling my stomach into one large knot that twisted painfully against my backbone. I rolled my head along the cool tile of the bathroom floor and curled even further into myself.

  “Time to get off the floor, Phillip,” Father said, hooking his arm through mine and clamping down as he pulled me up like an overcooked noodle. “The key is to get up and get moving. And you need to eat something.”

  “No… no food. For the love of God, my head will fall off if you keep tugging me like this,” I said, stumbling behind him as he hauled me from the bathroom to the table sitting in front of the window of my room.

  “Sit,” Father said, guiding me into one of the chairs.

  I moved forward until my elbows caught the edge of the table and cradled my head in my palms.

  Father shoved a cup of coffee under my nose. “Start with a few sips of that.”

  Surprisingly enough, after a few sips, I did feel a little more alert… not better by any means, but capable of sitting back and drinking the rest without wanting to shove the breakfast tray off the table so I could curl up on it and go back to sleep. The bed, while only about ten steps away, could have been miles as far as my body was concerned.

  The coffee cup was plucked out of my hand and, in another one of my father’s trademark brash moves, a fork appeared in its place. The silver tray lid was lifted, emitting the warm buttery smell of toast gone soggy, eggs, and country-style potatoes.

  I closed my eyes, holding my breath to keep the scents from triggering an automatic need to gag.

  “Don’t think about it. Just eat. Start with the toast,” my father said, nudging the plate closer to me as he swiped a triangular piece of toast up and bit into it.

  I broke out into a cold sweat just reaching over to pick up a piece. When I bit down on the overly buttered toast, my stomach rumbled so loudly I winced.

  “See. Your body knows what it needs. Now, finish that, and then you can fill me in on what happened last night. God knows I’ve heard everything from you running away with all my assets in tow, to you running away with your pregnant lover. I sincerely hope neither of those are even remotely close to what you were up to though,” Father said, giving me a stern look over the piece of toast he’d quickly consumed.

  I chewed my way through one piece of toast, and then another, washing it down with small sips of coffee before I had the energy to talk about the night before with my father. Wondering the entire time how he’d react to what I had to say. And thanking my lucky stars it was him across the table from me instead of my mother.

  “I went to a dance last night at five. An approved activity with the resort,” I added when his brow inched up in question. “And I saw someone I’d met earlier yesterday. She invited me to a beach bonfire, and then to a local concert after. I realize now that I should have just come home after the dance, but…” I stopped myself from saying anymore, because really, what could I say that would make a difference in how he’d see the situation?

  “And where did you get the alcohol?” he asked, lacing his fingers together as he leaned on the table.

  “Does it matter?” I wouldn’t tell him and sell out Maggie or her friends. No one forced me to drink. I’d stupidly overdone it all on my own.

  “The fact that you’re a minor says that it does. What would have happened to you if your friend hadn’t brought you back last night and it had been the cops instead? Do you have any idea how much it would cost me to get something like this to go away? How you’d put the family name in every spite-filled mouth to waggle their tongues against us?”

  I looked down. Ashamed at myself and what I’d almost caused. “I didn’t… no. I’m sorry, Father.”

  The chair he sat in squeaked as he settled back into it, bringing my head up to take the rest of the tirade he’d surely dish out at me like a man. When my eyes met his, he gave me a crooked smile.

  “She’s one helluva girl, that Maggie. And you’re damn lucky it was me that came across the two of you as she smuggled you back in your room last night, because had it been your mother…?” He let out a sigh. “Phillip, I can’t tell you how important our reputation is. I’m fairly certain you understand what being a member of this family counts as. People like Maggie, they’re great people, but they aren’t our people. Do I make myself clear?”

  It angered me, hearing him say that. Our people. I snorted, regretting it immediately, but I didn’t allow it to stop me from voicing my opinion on the matter. “You make it sound like we’re so much better than most of the general population,” I said, scowling at him.

  “Better? Maybe so in some situations, but that’s not entirely what I meant,” Father replied, snagging another piece of toast from my plate as he said, “Eat.”

  I picked up my fork and tried to finish my e
ggs without throwing my plate to the ground. I’d expected that sort of line from my mother, but not from him. He had friends on every pay-grade level and treated them all fairly. Why did he do that if he thought so little of them?

  “This Maggie, she works here, correct?” he asked.

  I choked on the egg I’d swallowed as he said it, giving him his answer without having to say a word.

  “That’s what I thought. Look, Phillip, I’ll keep this simple. You have a few short weeks before you go off to college. You have a very bright future ahead of you. The last thing you or this family needs is any type of situation that can arise before you head out.”

  “Situation? I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Father,” I said, letting my fork fall against my plate with a clatter.

  “What I mean is that I don’t want to have to go behind you and clean up any messes. Girls, partying, or otherwise. You have an upcoming career to look forward to along with several influential families who’ve shown a lot of interest in welcoming you into the fold as their son-in-law. I can’t… I will not allow you to mess it up. Do I make myself clear?”

  The stern set to his jaw and his clipped words weighed heavily on me. There would be no argument with him. He wouldn’t listen to it anyway. What worried me the most was Maggie. He’d met her. He knew what she looked like, and he knew that she worked at the resort, but what would he do with that information?

  “And Maggie? What plans do you have for her? Because while I understand what your rules are for me, I can only hope you’re not planning on ruining her in the process,” I said, taking care to use as much respect as I could muster considering the dread that sat at the bottom of my stomach as big as the anchor on the yacht Sophia had lured me onto yesterday.

  “I don’t have any plans for Maggie and, I hope after this conversation, neither will you,” he answered, giving me a look that said I better catch his meaning or he would see to her removal from the resort and maybe even to the inside of a jail cell.

  He wasn’t considered a cutthroat business negotiator for nothing.

  “I understand, Father, but I want you to understand something too. Maggie is just a friend. The only one I have here and, really, I don’t know all that much about her except that she seems to be a really nice person who didn’t bat an eyelash one way or the other over who I am,” I said, feeling that with Maggie’s reputation on the line, I at least owed her that much.

  “Good. Then we’re in agreement,” Father said, pushing up and out of the chair. He crossed the room, stopping briefly at the door before opening it and said, “Believe it or not, I was once your age.” Something like a chuckle escaped him as he shook his head and continued, “I walked a fine line on what was expected of me and what I really wanted. But make sure you ask yourself this, before you find yourself on the wrong path looking back on what could have been, is three weeks of walking the other side of the right path worth all that you could lose in the process?”

  And with that, he let himself out of my room.

  I shoved the plate away, tapping my fingers against the arm of my chair. Why was it that everyone felt the need to remind me daily what my life was to become? How important my future was to all of them? Didn’t they know that I knew it already? It had been ingrained in me from the moment I could comprehend what they said. I’d lived with that weight on my shoulders for over fifteen years. Did they think I could just forget it all in one fell swoop?

  Not likely.

  I shoved myself up from the chair. Grabbing a change of clothes, I headed to the bathroom, hoping I could wash away everything from the moment I’d woken to my mother’s shrill voice calling me back to reality.

  AFTER MY MOTHER DIED WHEN I was younger, I used to sit out on the docks and wait for my father to return from his daily fishing excursions. I’d finish my homework on the bus ride home from school, and then take off for the docks as soon as the bus door snapped open. I thought that as long as I made it there at the same time every day, he’d make it home safely.

  That routine went on well into the beginning of my teen years.

  It was my way of dealing with the dangers I knew his job brought. My way of knowing I had a hand in bringing him home, that his safety wasn’t left to chance, even when the seas were churning and the sky was crying tears of warning.

  As long as I was on that dock, he would be okay. He would come home, and I wouldn’t become an orphan.

  But I was wrong.

  One day, he didn’t return, even though I had made it on time. I’d sat there as the heavens rained down on me and stared out into the vast green sea, waiting for any sign of my father’s boat.

  It wasn’t until almost a full day later, and a night on my neighbor’s couch, that the coast guard found him and a couple of his crew mates drifting on one of the safety rafts. That he was brought back to me, beaten but not broken.

  But not me.

  Something broke inside of me when I saw him on that hospital bed. Some string to my childhood that was tethered to fairy tales and wishes, when he told me through my fit of tears, the best advice I’d probably ever hear in my lifetime.

  He said that every life was an ocean unsailed. I could either stand on shore and never venture out into the unknown, or I could take to the water and chart my own destiny.

  I had put faith into a thought, into a hope that was about as tangible as immortality. Routines and superstitions weren’t going to save my father. They didn’t save my mother. They weren’t going to save anyone, for that matter. And from that day on, I vowed to never do that to myself again. To never pour my hope into something that could never be, because life couldn’t be controlled. It couldn’t be predicted. We had no power in keeping loved ones alive. No power in preventing the hardships of tomorrow.

  The only power we had over life was how we chose to live it.

  I chose to open my eyes and my heart. To take every moment for what it was, whether good or bad. To put my faith in the things that were real. And I’d like to think that I had become quite good at absorbing the shocks from life.

  Until I met Phillip.

  He was like watching the sun rise. Watching the rays of light extend over the blackened earth, illuminating all that you couldn’t see under the muted light of the moon.

  He was a comet I didn’t see coming.

  I never expected him to come with us to the concert. For him to set fire to my skin with just his touch, and for my body to respond the way it had. And I surely didn’t expect for the world to tilt off its axis and drop us in our own little universe when his lips finally met mine.

  But it happened, and it ignited a feeling within me I feared wouldn’t be good for either of us.

  Despite enjoying watching the screws firmly planted in Phillip loosening, I felt bad for the night before. I left him in a condition I knew his father would ream him for and, even though he had given me a feral warning that I needed to remember my place as the service provider and not the guest, it didn’t matter to me if I lost my job or not.

  Just as long as Phillip wasn’t upset with me for it.

  I spent most of my morning in a mindless zone, moving without really seeing where I was. Debating if I should take Phillip’s father’s advice, or follow what my heart was telling me to.

  Walk away, or risk it all?

  I decided not to decide and to let the universe show me what I should do. A sign would come, and then I’d have my answer. I just hoped it’d be what I knew deep down I wanted it to be.

  It wasn’t until after my shift had finished and Hannah headed out to meet her mother for dinner, that I opened my locker and saw Phillip’s suit hanging from the night before.

  A smile blossomed from my lips.

  I waited until I was sure that his parents were nowhere near his room, which wasn’t until the sun was beginning to set and they were having dinner in the grand hall, before I headed for the rented bungalows spread out amongst the grounds for the customers who didn’t like staying in the hotel
-like part of the resort.

  His room was nestled between a canopy of trees, meant to give the privacy vacationers sought. Wearing a thin jacket, I had the hood pulled up over my head to hide my bright hair as I crossed the grounds. I knew I was easy to spot, and I didn’t want to take any chances.

  With a quick glance around me, I knocked. As soon the door opened, my heart malfunctioned like a faulty car engine, and not for the reasons it should have been beating for. Not because I was once again visiting a guest, but because I was visiting Phillip.

  I was left standing in front of a very irritated-looking Phillip, wearing only low-slung pajama pants. “I’m sorry,” I said right away, holding out his suit. “I wanted to bring this back to you. You gave it to me last night, but when your father saw us, I kind of forgot to go back and get it for you.” I sucked in a deep breath and bit my lower lip. “So, here,” I said, pushing it toward him.

  Watching him, I waited for any kind of reaction. I had no idea what to expect from him, something I quickly came to realize. Something that drew me to him even more.

  The irritation fell away like leaves rattled from a breeze. His eyes moved from my eyes to my lips, and then down to the suit in my hand.

  He took it, and then stepped out of the way, inviting me in. Once the door shut behind him, I pulled the hood off my head and shucked out of my jacket, setting it on the table by the door.

  His room was just like every other room I had seen the inside of. Built with all the finest materials. Marbled flooring. Lavish furniture. Paintings bought from well-known artists.

  All the things I’d never have or need in my lifetime.

  “I wanted to apologize about last night,” I said as he walked around me, still quiet and unreadable.

  “For?” he asked as he sat on the couch. A blanket was rumpled and thrown over the edge. A large pillow with an indent, probably from his head, was next to it.

  “For leaving you in the condition you were in,” I said softly, realizing that he’d probably spent the majority of today regretting last night.