Unexpected Arrivals

by Stephie Walls

  “And Drake tried. She’s a beautiful girl.” He paused and stared at me as though he waited for me to catch up mentally in the conversation. “Her heart belonged to you.”

  I should have been elated, seeing fireworks behind my eyelids, rejoicing that Cora hadn’t involved herself with Drake Halifax, but instead, my heart squeezed painfully just as my lungs constricted, preventing air from flowing freely. I hadn’t believed in her. I hadn’t trusted her enough to believe she was mine. Even if I’d never questioned it verbally, I’d thought it all in my head—and then I’d played out my retribution, using two other women’s bodies as my targets. She hadn’t failed me; I’d given up on her.

  “James?”

  My hand clutched my shirt, and the other pulled at the tie around my neck, desperate to loosen the hold it had on my airway. “How do you know?” It was all I managed to utter, but I needed confirmation before I found the nearest Catholic church to start confessing my sins and reciting Hail Marys.

  “He told me. He didn’t have a clue what he was admitting to when he brought her up. Or that the beau she fancied was my son.”

  “Did you tell him?” The sentence came out raspy and desperate, although I wasn’t sure why.

  “Not until I was certain she was loyal.”

  I wanted to hate him for the sentiment, but the truth was, if it were my child we were talking about, I probably would have done the same.

  “Women like that are hard to find when you come from the life you do.”

  “What?” That was the dumbest thing I’d heard since Chelsea telling me my mom made the staff use the back door.

  “Whether you believe it or not, you’re privileged, and people will use you to raise their station—”

  “She’s a Chase, Dad. If anything, she’d be elevating my social status, not the other way around.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, son. Lots of women prefer to marry into the life they were raised in with little respect for the sanctity of the union. And I didn’t know Cora from Eve.”

  “That’s because you were never around.” I’d mumbled it, yet it had been loud enough for him to hear.

  He unfolded his arms from his chest and rested his palms on either side of him, just before his shoulders and face fell slightly. “I deserve that.”

  Jesus, I didn’t have a clue who this man was or what he’d done with my dad. I was starting to wonder if he'd been diagnosed with some terminal disease and was trying to right the wrongs of his past.

  “I hope you make better choices if you have children. It’s easy to point a finger after the fact, but I did the best I knew how. I mirrored what I’d seen my father do. Those were different times, back when mothers, even those who had nannies, stayed home while fathers worked to provide for their family. It’s what my grandfather did and my father after. I wanted you to have the best of everything. I just never considered—until it was too late—that I’d sacrificed the only thing you cared about having the best of…a father.”

  I’d entered the Twilight Zone. Soon, my mother would come through the door in a prim dress with a belt cinched at the waist, pearls around her neck, and a plate of freshly baked cookies in her hand.

  “I can’t change our past. I can only hope you have a better future. And I hoped to make sure this Cora girl was it.”

  “That’s it?”

  He let out a hearty chuckle before clapping my shoulder and helping me up from the seat I sat in.

  “If you don’t want to end up just like me, stop taking life so seriously…and maybe find time to make your way to Paris.”

  I felt my brow draw down, and my lip curl up; I could only imagine what my confusion looked like from the outside. I was lost with this whimsical man who stood before me and wondered if someone had slipped a hallucinogen into my morning coffee.

  ***

  “James, I swear, dating men in Paris is like dating hell in the United States. For a city that’s filled with love, these guys have no idea how to treat a lady.”

  I abhorred hearing her talk about other men, although I secretly smiled each time she told me about a date gone wrong. None of them had been horrible; they just weren’t me. Cora had yet to figure that part out; she assumed it was the men, when in fact, most women would have swooned at the accent alone.

  “They dress like pop stars, James. A guy shouldn’t look better in skinny jeans than his date. And they pair them with fitted shirts. It’s like boy band gone wrong.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Cora, not every guy in France dresses like Justin Bieber.”

  “The ones I’ve met do.”

  “Maybe it’s the industry you’re meeting them in. Aren’t they all rather artistic in some form or fashion?”

  “No.” The humor danced in her voice. “What gave you that idea?”

  “I just figured engineers were artsy.” I shrugged as if she could see me through the phone.

  “No, silly—they aren’t artsy, they’re mathematical. The fashion here is just different.”

  “So are you going to come back looking like the cover of Vogue?”

  “I wish. Unfortunately, long hours have done nothing for my complexion or my figure.”

  “Are you starting to resemble the Toad of Babylon?” I chuckled at the reference. Cora could never be ugly, much less an abomination.

  “Oh my God, did you just refer to me as a whore?” Her laughter rumbled through the line.

  “I said toad! Okay, poor choice of words. Now that I think about it, it didn’t make any sense anyhow.”

  “Thanks, I’ll call you the next time I’m feeling particularly heinous, and you can talk me off the ledge.”

  “I’ll sing for you.” Third Eye Blind instantly came to mind, and I grinned at the high school memories and times I’d listen to that album on basketball trips. “I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend.” I was tone deaf and had massacred that one line.

  “That would certainly bring some levity to my day, even if it didn’t make me feel any better about my horrendous appearance. Don’t quit your day job—the stage is not the place for you.”

  “I’m sure you’re just as beautiful as you’ve always been.” The words were sincere. She’d always been the most stunning woman I’d ever seen.

  “It doesn’t feel like it in the fashion capital. Everyone here is exotic and thin and just…I don’t know…intimidating.”

  “You’ve never been intimidated a day in your life, Cora. And if that’s how you truly feel, I have to wonder how the benefits of this job outweigh the damage it’s doing to your psyche.”

  Her tone changed, and she giggled playfully. “It’s not quite that bad. But it would be nice to have one decent date. I don’t need anything remarkable or off the charts—just a romantic evening in a spectacular city.” I could hear the fairy tale in her voice. She’d had that once, and somehow, we’d both let it slip away. “What about you? Anyone new on the dating scene?”

  I hated the direction of this conversation. I’d purposely avoided this topic for fear of where it would lead and our inability to come back from it. Cora may have thought she wanted details, just like I itched for them about her life, yet neither of us really needed to imagine the other with someone else.

  “Nah. Just doing the casual thing.” And waiting on you. I didn’t say that last part, although it hung in my thoughts like straight dialogue.

  The silence lingered on the line. It was comfortable, the way we’d always been with each other.

  “Hopefully we’ll both find what we’re looking for,” she whispered.

  I didn’t have to find it. I knew exactly where it was—I just couldn’t reach it right now. But that would change in ten months if I had anything to do with it. For now, I had to bide my time and remind Cora of why she needed to be here instead of there. “I’m sure we will.”

  “I need to get going.”

  I glanced at the clock realizing it was almost one in the morning in France. “Sweet dreams, Cora. I miss
you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  ***

  I tried calling Chelsea on my way home from Florida, but it had gone straight to voicemail. I hadn’t heard from her since we had lunch, and while we both agreed there was no possibility of a relationship, she seemed like she needed a friend. The last two days I was in town had been filled with my dad and conference calls with the clients he turned over to our firm. I’d crashed after dinner both nights and left early Wednesday morning to make the trip back to New York. I didn’t want her to think I’d used her. I enjoyed talking to her and felt like we could both benefit from having the other to confide in.

  Cora was at work, but I sent her a text telling her I was in the car if she got a chance to talk. The silence that came with the open road never bothered me, although now, for whatever reason, it ate at me with each minute that ticked by. I’d stopped several times for gas and snacks, then again to piss—anything to break up the monotony.

  By the time Cora’s name finally lit up the screen on my cell, I was near the point of insanity.

  “Hey.” Even though I’d been sitting in the driver’s seat doing nothing other than holding the wheel for over an hour, my greeting came out breathy, as if I’d had to run to catch the phone before it quit ringing.

  “Hi. How’s the drive?”

  “I’m ready to leave my car at an airport and fly home.”

  She snickered. “That bad?”

  “I’m just restless. Geneva Key does that to me.”

  “How’d things go with your dad?”

  “It was the strangest experience of my life. He gave me hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of portfolios for the business, we had lunch like friends, and he told me to go see you in Paris.” I hadn’t meant to admit that last part. She didn’t need to know I’d spoken to my dad about her, much less that he’d suggested an impromptu vacation.

  “Yes, yes, yes. That would be perfect.”

  I’d expected her to brush over it, not extend an invitation.

  “Oh, James, could you? I’d love to see a friendly face.”

  “We could do that over FaceTime.” I could have slapped myself for that insensitive remark. It was like I was determined to be an ass to the one woman I’d ever loved as some form of pseudo punishment that only hurt me.

  She giggled, thankfully. “Why don’t we ever do that? The thought hasn’t occurred to me because I don’t use it. But that way, we could see each other…I mean, if you won’t come to France.”

  I could envision the way she’d be staring up at me from beneath her long lashes, pushing out her bottom lip just a hair, and waiting for me to give in to her whim. And if I could have driven across the ocean, I would have detoured in that very moment. The drive back to New York didn’t exactly tickle my fancy—at least a ride to Paris would have resulted in a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

  “I wasn’t trying to invite myself to a foreign country, Cora.” I needed her to confirm she wanted me to come, not that she’d been polite.

  Her tone suddenly changed, and her voice dropped. “You didn’t. I asked.” The hurt in those four little words fractured another piece of my soul.

  “I’d love to see you.” It was a dangerous admission, yet I needed to confirm where she stood. When I told her I missed her, I meant I missed loving her. She could just need a friend.

  “Promise me you’ll look at your calendar as soon as you get home. It’s a long flight, but even if you could come for a couple of days, I’d love having you.”

  “Can you take time off work?”

  “Of course. I’ve been with the company for over two years, James. I’m not a slave…well, mostly.”

  I hated knowing she felt that way—she’d worked like a Trojan. And since she was still homesick, she hadn’t made a lot of friends—which also meant that other than the handful of bad dates she’d told me about, she didn’t socialize much. I couldn’t stand the thought of all the socializing I’d done when she left—or with Chelsea on the beach just days ago. My stomach churned again. I had to remind myself no less than twenty times a day since that Cora and I weren’t together. Technically, I hadn’t done anything wrong—it was just soul-crushing guilt that plagued my conscience.

  The two of us talked until she was yawning through every sentence out of her mouth. The time difference had been a killer since we’d started these calls, and as much as I didn’t like hanging up, the possibility of planning a trip to spend time with her made it easier to let her go.

  “Promise you’ll have some dates for me tomorrow?” She was cute like this. It was easy to picture her curled up next to me in bed the way it had been for so many years.

  “Promise.” Nothing would stop me from giving her what she asked for.

  “I miss you, James.”

  “Miss you, too, Cora.”

  When the screen went dark after the line had disconnected, I said, “But I love you more,” to no one.

  Since I couldn’t sit and ponder my agenda while barreling ninety miles per hour down the interstate, I did the next best thing. I called Neil.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Hey, Carp. How was the trip?”

  “I’m still making it, but if you’re referring to the time with my parents, it was interesting.”

  “Yeah? What’d your dad want?” He didn’t try to hide the skepticism from his voice.

  “To give us twenty-three clients.”

  “I hope you told him to shove them up his ass.” He snorted like he’d said something funny.

  A week ago, I would have scoffed alongside him. However, something had changed on this trip. I wasn’t sure if my dad suddenly realized his mortality and this was his attempt at atoning for his own transgressions, or he’d recognized that I had become an adult. Either way, it didn’t matter—for the first time in my life, I’d had lunch with my dad and not my father.

  “Nope. We spent two days going over each account, and together, we reached out to every single one of them. Which means…we’re going to need to hire another investor to manage the additional workload.”

  “Why the hell would you take your dad’s handouts? I was kidding when I said I wasn’t ashamed to take charity.”

  “Because there were no strings attached.”

  “There are always strings.” His agitation started to tick me off.

  “Trust me on this, Neil.”

  “What has you in Daddy’s pocket?”

  I wasn’t in his pocket, but if my best friend cared to know what had changed, I’d gladly tell him. “He looked out for Cora.” Technically, he’d been looking out for me, although when you loved someone, you could twist things any way you chose. I loved her, and I believed my dad loved her for me.

  There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call while I assumed he collected his thoughts. It abruptly ended when he shrieked, “He did what?”

  “I was shocked myself. Apparently, when he found out she was in the crosshairs of Drake Halifax, he made sure to find out his intentions.”

  “Please tell me that dirty old man never touched Cora.”

  “No, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. She didn’t want him.”

  “Well, no shit, Sherlock. Everyone other than you saw that.”

  I chose to ignore that. “She asked me to come see her.”

  “In Paris?” He screamed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear. His voice was distorted to the point I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or pissed that I might be out again.

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “That’s why I called—”

  “Dude, you cannot be gone for a week, bring back twenty-three new clients I know nothing about, and jet off to another fucking country. I’m pretty fucking impressive, but I’m not Batman.”

  “Thank God for small favors. No one needs to see your ass in tights. And I sure as hell could never be your Robin.”

  “Not to worry…Hannah definitely has Harley Quinn covered.�
��

  Gross.

  “I realize I can’t go in the next week or two. I was going to ask you to look at my calendar to see when I might be free in a few weeks. That would give us time to get someone hired and familiar with the portfolios, so you wouldn’t be drowning.”

  “Surely you don’t think I’m your secretary?”

  “Not at all. If you’d like me to ask her, I certainly can have her tell me the moment my calendar is free and get her to book a flight.” I let the weight of that settle…which didn’t take long.

  “Fuck that. She’d have you out of here within hours of you pulling back into the city. She’s too efficient for her own damn good.”

  I didn’t try to stifle the laugh.

  We spent the next hour talking about the clients I was bringing back, the type of person we needed to join our team, and going over our schedules. As great as the added business was, it meant there was no way I’d get back out of the office for a week—or even a few days—before November…and that was pushing it. And unfortunately, until we hired at least one more person, maybe two, there was no way I’d be airborne, much less practicing my high school French.

  10

  Chelsea

  I kissed her cheek and told her how much I loved her before I left. Each visit became progressively harder; she’d lost weight living on a liquid diet, and her eyes were tired—not sleepy, but weary. I felt like I should offer her permission to let go; however, selfishly, I wasn’t there yet. I wanted to hold on for another day, another week, another year. There would never come a point where I could open the gate to eternity for her. I’d always need her, and not even Dottie could take her place.

  Dottie waited for me to say goodbye just outside the room. It had become our routine. She always gave me time alone with my mom. She did it in case it was the last time I got to see her. And while I refused to believe the door closing behind me could take my mother with it, I appreciated her consideration all the same.

  I hadn’t let my mom see me cry—she couldn’t console me, so the tears seemed selfish. But as I left today, Dottie took me in her arms and kissed my temple. I didn’t have to tell her I was scared—she could see it written all over my face—and I couldn’t hide the way my body shook before the sobs began. There in the hall, with people passing us without a glance, my heart finally acknowledged what my brain had known my entire life.