Uncorked

by Rebecca Rohman

  The closer they came to the door, the tighter Mitch held Chella’s hand. His pulse radiated through her hand, indicating his nerves. At the room’s entrance, Mitch stopped.

  He looked into Chella’s eyes but said nothing. His eyes were now almost purely green, beautiful, but glassy, filled with hurt, fear and the unknown.

  She slipped her arms around him in a supportive and warm embrace. He was vulnerable and for a minute, she felt the urge to protect him. She knew this meeting had the power to heal or slice open old wounds. Deep down, he needed to do this.

  “It will be okay. You can do this. I’m right here with you,” she reassured him, looking deep into his eyes.

  Mitch clenched Chella’s hands tighter. He entered the room.

  Jude Waters sat in a wheelchair on the outdoor deck, gazing at the view. It appeared that he did not hear Mitch’s knock, but the loud squeaking of the door got his attention.

  They all stared at each other in silence.

  Mitch expected to see some semblance of the tall, robust man he remembered from almost twenty years ago, but the man before him was frail. His hands—the same hands that had violated his mother—looked weak, feeble, covered with flat spots under the skin from bleeding, probably due to the cancer. It was hard to picture those very hands doing any damage at this point in his life. The man could barely hold a glass of water to his lips because his weak hands shook so terribly. The power Jude Waters once had over his mother—over anyone—was gone.

  “I came to hear you out,” Mitch said coldly.

  Chella tried to let his hand go, turning to head to the door, but Mitch pulled her closer.

  “Thank you for giving me a chance. I wanted to say how sorry I am. I deeply apologize. I know my actions have caused you a great deal of pain over the years. From the day this happened I have tried every way I know to right this wrong. I was drunk. But I was always in love—”

  Mitch tensed. “I have no interest in the gory details.”

  “Alcohol played a big role. I know it was my choice to drink, and it was my choice to violate your mother’s trust, but the last thing I ever wanted to do is hurt your mother.”

  “Then why did you?” Mitch banged his hand on the nearby dresser.

  Chella startled.

  “Mitch, I’ve taken responsibility for my actions. I was young, drunk and very, very stupid. I hate myself for what I did to your mother. I caused her immeasurable pain, and I lost my best friend in the process.”

  “Growing up, I always wondered why I didn’t have a dad. Why my mom never shared her life with another man. It was because of you. You ruined her chances for a normal, happy life. Do you have any idea how it feels to grow up and find out that you are the result of a rape? Do you know how it feels to have a rapist’s blood running through my veins? Do you have any inclination of the turmoil you have caused in my life?”

  Mitch held Chella’s hand so tight, it was now a deep shade of red.

  “I apologize. Please believe me when I tell you how sorry I am,” the elderly man replied, continuously sobbing, his hands violently trembling. “I know I caused you and your mother incredible pain. I want to fix it. I want to find a way to somehow repair the damage I caused. Whatever you want me to do to prove to you I’m sorry, I will.”

  “You think it’s that simple? You have no comprehension of the type of hurt and pain you caused my mother and me. You can’t begin to understand. How do you explain to a five-year-old why he doesn’t have a daddy, or why there was no dad around to take him camping or fishing? For me to experience anything close to that, I had to go with my best friend’s dad. But always, somewhere lurking in the back of my mind, it wasn’t real. There’s no measure for that kind of pain.”

  Not once did Mitch let Chella’s hand go.

  “How would you feel if someone did that to your wife or Simone or Olivia? Would you tell them to forgive and forget?”

  “I’d be angry. And no, I don’t know that I could forgive and forget.”

  “Then why are you asking that of me?”

  “Because, Mitch, you are the better man.” The elderly man broke into sobs. “I’d do anything to prove to you how remorseful I am. I need you to forgive me so I can forgive myself. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I wish the one trait I could have gotten from my mother was the ability to forgive and forget the way she has, but I can’t.”

  “I’m desperate. Please tell me what I have to do,” the elderly man cried.

  Mitch felt torn and sad. For a split second, he felt sorry for him. This man who once had so much control over his mother was now powerless, begging for forgiveness. Now Mitch was the one in control, but he was determined not to follow the footsteps of his father and use that power in a destructive way. Was he ready to forgive him and let it go? Was he ready to save his life by giving him his bone marrow? No. But he wanted to be sure he didn’t exploit that power, either.

  “I’ve heard you out,” Mitch said softly. “I have to go. I need time to think.”

  “Thank you for coming.”

  Mitch turned on his heels, still holding Chella’s hand, and left the room.

  In the hallway, Mitch excused himself to the restroom.

  Theresa approached Chella as she waited for Mitch and handed her a brown envelope. “I think you should have this.”

  “What is it?” Chella asked.

  “Feel free to have a look at it.”

  Chella slipped it into her clutch with the intention of opening it later. She wasn’t sure if Mitch could handle anything else at that moment.

  That was so intense. Please let him be okay.

  Once outside, Chella put her supportive arms around Mitch for what seemed like an eternity. She could feel the agony that emanated from him. Little by little, the anxiety dissipated from his body. They returned to his penthouse after a silent drive.

  “Can I get you anything? Anything at all?” Chella asked. She so badly wanted to help him.

  “I think I’ll take two aspirins and lie down for a bit. I’m exhausted, and I have a massive headache.” He kissed her on her forehead then retired to his room.

  After fixing dinner, she eagerly opened the envelope given to her by Theresa, curious to see what was inside.

  Enclosed, she found stacks of documents and newspaper clippings dating back to 1976. The newspaper clippings were all about Mitch’s father doing talks to boys on the dangers of alcohol, and how it could potentially lead to them raping someone they cared about. There were transcripts of some of the talks and links to various websites and YouTube with audio and video footage of his father’s speeches.

  Chella booted up her laptop and watched some of the footage.

  They sat out on the patio to enjoy the steamed veggies and grilled tuna Chella had fixed for dinner. After ten minutes of eating in complete silence Chella asked, “What are you thinking?”

  Mitch looked at her, completely lost, then replied, “I don’t know, Sweetheart. I’m numb.”

  “Be patient with yourself. It may take time. Do you want to be alone?”

  “I’d like you to stay. It’s been great being with you these last few days.”

  “I’ve enjoyed them, too,” she said, holding his hand and giving him a supportive squeeze. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’ll be okay. I guess part of me was hoping for some answers or closure or something, but I feel just as screwed up as I did before, if not worse.”

  “I have something you should take a look at when you’re ready.” She retrieved the envelope from the desk inside and handed it to him.

  “This is from your father’s wife. I’ve already checked it out. I know what’s inside.”

  “How did you get this?”

  “When you went to the bathroom, she gave it to me. I didn’t want to overwhelm you when we got home. To be honest, I wanted to vet it out first.”

  He looked at her straight-faced; she was unable to read his gaze.

  “Why did y
ou decide to give it to me?”

  “I would have given it to you regardless. The timing might have been different if I thought what was inside might cause you more pain.”

  “Are you trying to protect me, Miss Noon?” Mitch asked, smiling.

  “Of course. I hate seeing you in anguish.”

  “Do I want to know what’s inside?”

  “It won’t change what happened, but it might make a difference in how you see your father. Take your time, Sweetheart. I know today has been overwhelming.”

  “Thanks for your love and support,” he replied, as he leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

  “What do you want to do this evening?”

  “Tear your clothes off and make love to you for hours.”

  Not quite the response that she was expecting, but she blushed at his words.

  “What’s with the face?” Mitch asked, interrupting her thoughts. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I was curious about what brought on your idea on how to spend the evening.”

  “You want me to be honest?”

  “Of course, always.”

  “Chella, you’re the comfort in my life right now. If I didn’t have you in my life, I think I’d go crazy. I realize now these past few weeks I did shut you out, and it only made matters worse.”

  “So I’m a distraction?” Chella replied with a smirk on her face.

  “Actually, yes,” he conceded with a smile. “A good, healthy distraction.”

  She cleared their plates off the table then leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Minutes later, they were in the bedroom making love until they fell asleep a couple of hours later.

  Chella awoke to an empty bed. The bedside clock glowed 2:23 a.m. She went in search of Mitch. As she approached the living room, she heard Mitch watching videos of his father on YouTube.

  She curled up next to him and watched. They didn’t speak. He wrapped his arms around her and continued to listen and watch in silence.

  She glanced at the coffee table and noticed that there was a mark next to half the list of website links on the paper. He had been listening and watching for some time.

  They completed the list together.

  Chella looked at him after the last video ended and asked, “So?”

  “This does change things,” said Mitch. “After watching all those videos and the fact that he’s dedicated his life to this, maybe he really is sorry. I have to talk to Mom. I hope she’ll talk to me about this.”

  “The only way you’ll know is if you try. Call her tomorrow.”

  “I was thinking that it might be better to go see her. Things have been really bad between us. I’m not sure this is a conversation we should have over the phone. She didn’t even say goodbye the last time she left.”

  “Why?”

  “We got into a fight about you.”

  “I’m sorry. Are you going to fly there?”

  “We can take the boat on Friday. Take the trip that was delayed by the accident.”

  “Sounds great, but I don’t need to be present when you’ll have that conversation. It will only complicate matters.

  The following Friday afternoon Mitch and Chella left Shelter Island for a three-hour cruise to Marina Del Rey, a short fifteen minute drive from Mitch’s mom’s house in Santa Monica. A gentle breeze, the flat ocean’s surface and the lack of huge waves meant they arrived at their destination sooner than planned. Mitch was eager to settle things with his mom, so he headed to the nearby car rental company.

  Chella waited on Ciao Bella.

  Mitch was just pulling out of the rental car lot when he heard a loud explosion. Pedestrians ran toward the sound. Thick, black smoke bellowed in the air over the building rooftops. Sirens roared, and two fire trucks and an ambulance flew by. He realized the smoke was coming from the direction of his boat.

  He quickly called Chella, but the phone went straight to voice mail. Something was wrong. He drove across the street and parked the car. The boat—his boat, or the little that was left of it—was on fire. His heart plummeted. He ran from his vehicle toward the dock, but the police and fire fighters held him back.

  “My girlfriend’s on that boat!” He shouted, trying to break free of their hold.

  “Sir, we’ve found her. She’s okay. Safe in the ambulance over there.” One of the men said to him, pointing him in the direction of the vehicle.

  Mitch ran toward the ambulance. When he saw her, he sighed with relief. She was covered in soot, and blood ran down her knees.

  “Chella, my God. Are you okay?” he asked, pulling her into his arms.

  “I’m okay,” she replied, but her shaking hands told a different story.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “I grazed my knees when I fell.”

  “What happened?”

  “One of the buoys was hanging low. I heard the side of the boat hitting the dock, so I pulled it up a bit and tightened it. Then I went to have a look at a yacht at the end of the pier and on my way back the boat exploded.”

  A paramedic cleaned the scrapes on her knees. Mitch wiped her face clean.

  “This wasn’t an accident. That asshole Aaron is responsible for this. We need to talk to the police,” Mitch said angrily.

  “You think he had someone follow us here?”

  “No. I would have noticed if we had a boat on our tail the whole time, but there’s no logical reason for the boat to blow up.”

  A firefighter interrupted. “I’m Lieutenant Marshall. Are you the owner of the boat?”

  “Yes, I am,” Mitch replied.

  “Did you just fill up on fuel?”

  “No. I filled up over a month ago. This wasn’t fumes.”

  “That’s one of the most common causes of boating explosions, sir.”

  “I’m aware of that, Lieutenant. We have every reason to believe this wasn’t an accident. We need to get the police down here. You can call Detective Carter at the SDPD, and he’ll have more information.”

  “I’ll do that, but we still need to rule out an accident.”

  “I obviously don’t have any records now, but she was last serviced two months ago right here. Since then we went to Morro Bay and San Diego with no problems. We sailed up from San Diego over three hours ago. I’m sure they have my records.” Mitch pointed to the marina’s maintenance facility.

  “Did you do any safety checks before you left San Diego?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have alarms and detectors on the boat?”

  “Yes, several. One in every room and four in the saloon and engine room. They were checked the last time the boat was serviced.”

  “Did you hear any alarms go off?”

  “I wasn’t there. My girlfriend was alone on the boat.”

  “No alarms,” said Chella. “When he left, I was in the galley getting a drink out of the cooler. I heard the side of the boat hitting the dock. I went to tighten the buoy and saw the yacht over there. I wanted to see it close-up, so I walked to the end of the pier. On my way back the boat exploded. There were no alarms.

  “How long do you think you were off the boat?

  “Maybe two minutes.”

  “Were you cooking? Smoking? Did you have candles lit?”

  “No, no and no. Neither of us smokes, and we were the only two who travelled on the boat.”

  “Did you see anyone walking or running away from the boat?

  “No.”

  “Lieutenant with all due respect, our lives have been in danger for the last few months, hers for the last ten years. It makes me really nervous to be out here in the open talking about it when someone might be watching us from nearby.”

  “I have to go through these procedural questions.”

  “That’s fine, but can we do it in a more secure place and get the police down here in the meantime?”

  They moved to the Marina office. Fifteen minutes later, the bomb squad arrived with dogs who detected the scent of explosives. Mitch immediately
called Detective Carter and told him what happened. After two hours of much communication between the Santa Monica Police Department, SDPD and the fire department, Mitch and Chella were allowed to leave.

  From a distance, they stared at the remnants of the boat. There was barely a trace of Ciao Bella left.

  “Are you sure you don’t what me to take you to the hospital to get checked out?” said Mitch.

  “No. I have a small bump on my head, but I’m okay. I’m really sorry about Ciao Bella.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know how much you love that boat.”

  “The boat doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that you’re safe. I should stop somewhere to get us some clothes and things.”

  “I would go with you, but I look like I stepped out of a coal mine.”

  “You do,” he said, smiling at her.

  Mitch’s cell phone rang. After a bit of conversation, Chella realized he was talking to Detective Carter. The call lasted only for a few minutes.

  Mitch shook his head in disbelief.

  “They got video footage from the marina of a couple entering the boat a few hours after we came in the last time. He says he’s not a hundred percent certain, but one might be a woman, and they might be the same two that vandalized my vehicle. They suspect the explosives were set on a timer to go off three hours after the boat started. If I had traveled any slower, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “This is unbelievable.”

  “No worries. It looks like we’ll be okay. The device was installed weeks ago. No one has followed us here. You can have some peace of mind for the next few days.”

  “Why don’t you buy us some things for tonight and maybe tomorrow? We can take Emily shopping and go to the pier since our plans have changed.”

  “Sounds good. Any requests?”