94 - Revelations

New York City traffic was chaotic early on a Monday morning.  Pedestrians, taxis, and all other forms of vehicles clogged the streets as the world prepared to dive into another work week.  In the ebb and flow of pedestrian movement, one face was no different than the next.  The occasional bright scarf, tie or hat might lend an air of distinction here and there, but it was predominantly a faceless sea of people that made their way from here to there.

Beth Miller was no different. 

Unless you knew her, Beth was as virtually indistinguishable as any of the other women flooding from the City Hall subway station and onto Broadway.  With average height, average build, commonplace brown hair and brown eyes, she could have been any one of a million Jane Does bustling about.  A plain black pea coat, dark slacks and utilitarian boots rendered her as unremarkable as the cluster of women huddled at the corner, waiting for the light to change.

When the crossing sign flashed ‘Walk’, Beth side-stepped a taxi and tied the scarf a little tighter around her neck.  The frigidity of the early January morning chilled her to the bone when a cross breeze found its way between the buildings and under the collar of her coat.  She general enjoyed the six-block walk from the subway station to the office building where she worked, but, in this kind of weather, it was one of her least favorite parts of the commute from Flatbush Avenue. 

Stepping up the pace, she spotted the Starbucks that was a good mid-way point to grab a cup of coffee and knock the chill off.  When she had her white chocolate soy mocha in hand, warming her through the thin gloves that were the only ones she could find this morning, Beth navigated  the slight crowds along Reade Street.

She didn’t slow her brisk pace until reaching the building’s front entrance.   There, she carefully perched the still-steaming mocha on top of the mailbox, unzipped the oversized bag she used as a purse and withdrew a stack of stamped envelopes.

When the door slammed shut with a heavy metal clang after accepting her deposit, an overbearing weight lifted from her shoulders.  Never had it felt so good to send out that many checks, but this go-around was different.  She could actually see the light at the end of the tunnel now.  It wouldn’t be much longer before the ominous black cloud hanging over her head would finally be swept away.  She would be able to breathe again.

When the familiar jolt of shame struck, she merely closed her eyes, sending a silent thanks – and apology – to the unwitting angel who had made it possible.

❧❧❧

“Mornin’ Jeri.  What’s up?” 

Jon was perched on the edge of the couch in his new family room, laptop open on the coffee table, which appropriately enough held a cup of coffee.  The second half of his second cup, at least.  It was ten o’clock on a Monday morning.  Without the caffeinated kick start, his assistant wouldn’t get much more than a growl.  As it was, he was feeling semi-sociable.

“A couple of things.  One, it looks like the press has Sheridan’s due date.  But don’t blow your stack right away.  That could be an educated guess on anyone’s part.  We can’t be sure it’s information that has ‘gotten out’.”

That was one sure-fire way to ruin his sociability. 

He pushed out a disgruntled huff, trying to keep perspective.  Anybody could’ve overheard anybody talking about the baby and the due date.  There wasn’t necessarily an invasion of privacy in that.  He guessed.

“What else you got to ruin my day with?”

She snickered deviously.  “I would say that I never call to ruin your day, but, considering the real reason for my call, I’d be a liar.  Are you aware of the date?”

His eyes fixed out the computer screen, seeking out the information he wanted.  “The twelfth.  Why?  Do I have something on my calendar today?”

“Not today, but Wednesday.  And it’s the same thing that’s on every couple in the world’s calendar – Valentine’s Day.  I know you tend to ignore it, but you have a new wife whom I’m guessing doesn’t know that you tend to ignore it.  Just giving you a friendly reminder to either tell her you eschew romantic commercial holidays or pony up with some diamonds.”

Ahhh fuck.

Jeri was right.  He tended to ignore the ‘most romantic day of the year’, because it made him feel like an unfeeling clod.  Some greedy mofo had come up with this crap just to make husbands and boyfriends shell out a ridiculous amount of money for flowers that would die, candy that their female counterparts would die before actually eating, or jewelry that got thrown in a box because she didn’t really like it. 

It frustrated the hell out of him.  In fact, he usually made it a point to schedule a show on Valentine’s Day so he had a legitimate reason to dismiss it from his personal life.   Once it was a business obligation, he ceased to feel negligent about nurturing his relationship.

Sheridan was a practical woman.  She would get it, wouldn’t she? 

For Chrissakes, that random August day in Jamaica has more meaning to our ‘relationship status’ than February fourteenth.

But, being a man, he might be missing the bigger picture here.  She was already aggravated that he didn’t want her shopping for the nursery yet.  Her lips had been screwed into that matronly, disapproving frown when she agreed to wait until after the housewarming party. 

Yeah, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second – female – opinion.

“Dare I ask if you have a suggestion?”

“I do.  Are you sure you want to hear it?”  Her amused laughter was annoying as hell. 

“Do I typically ask for shit I don’t want?”

“Excellent point, boss.  So, here’s my take…  Sheridan’s an incredibly sweet woman, but she borders on the verge of being Vulcan.  It’s like she’s almost emotionless.  I mean, I’ve never met a woman who was so analytical and task-oriented when it came to a baby.”

No fuckin’ kidding.

She wasn’t that way with things that didn’t relate to the baby.  She smiled, loved and cared just like anybody else would.  But this kid was doing a number on her.  Although Jeri wasn’t going to hear that from him, he felt compelled to defend his wife.

“She’s not emotionless,” was his simple rebuttal, without elaboration.  “Get on with it.”

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to invoke a little emotion before she completely disconnects.  Blow off Valentine’s next year, but she could use something from you this time.  In my opinion.”

“And you’ll find that something for me?” 

Jeri hesitated.  “You’re my employer and I’ll perform any reasonable request you have, but I think it would mean more if it was something personal.  From you.”

Personal?  Like…  lingerie or sex toys?  He could understand why his assistant wouldn’t want to shop for those things, but did a vibrator send some kind of secret, heartfelt message that he was unaware of? 

Jesus.  I HATE buying presents.

But he would, because Jeri was probably right.  Sheridan could use a little extra affection.  He’d been doing his best to rub his hand over her bump whenever he thought about it, trying to show some affection for the baby so that she would pick up on it, but he was a guy.  He was really a guy.  Who had four kids already.  It was hard to make himself get excited, and maybe that was coming through to her.

Jon sighed.  It looked like he was going shopping today.

But while he was out, he was going to make a side trip to Hamilton College.  Stephanie’s colorless, impersonal bedroom was driving him nuts.  Taunting him with the fact that his daughter was still snubbing him with one-letter or one-word text message replies and not answering his phone calls. 

She’d had over a month to make her point, and he’d accepted it as maybe being his rightful due.  The expiration date on that point was rapidly approaching though.  There was only so much shit he was going to take from anybody, even his darling daughter.  Now it was time for him to make his. 

❧❧❧

“Steph!”

Stephanie Bongiovi rolled her eyes, easily recognizing that voice, even at a distance.  Stopping on the sidewalk, she shifted her messenger-style book bag against her body and turned slowly.  By the time she’d pivoted the one-hundred and eighty degrees necessary to turn in his direction, her father was only steps away.

The trouble with going to such a small school meant that it wasn’t hard to track down one of the students, but she supposed it didn’t matter.  She had known he would come eventually.  The only surprise was that he hadn’t been here sooner.  If he hadn’t been so busy with his new wife and uprooting his home, he probably would’ve been. 

Her lips thinned and she pushed her glasses up on her nose.  “What are you doing here, Daddy?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his breath visible in the cold air when he huffed.  “You know damn well why I’m here.  Is there someplace close to have a cup of coffee with your old man?”

It would be something of a relief to get this over with now instead of waiting until next weekend because, in all honesty, she was tired of being mad at him.  Hours had stretched to weeks in which it had quickly become habit to avoid the man who thought he always knew best.  Oftentimes he did, but there were other times when he was just wrong.  Blatantly wrong, and she had enough of his personality instilled in her to call his hand on it.

A hint that her anger had hung on long enough came last week, when her mother had said, “You know, Steph, people you love make mistakes, because they’re just people.  They can’t undo the mistakes, but if they’re sorry, you love them in spite of those mistakes.”

Stephanie knew that was true, but she also wanted her father to consider her as an adult.

“Yeah,” she conceded with an air of reluctance, lifting her left hand and gesturing across the road.  “The diner is over this way.”

When they had their respective cups of coffee and were seated at one of the small booths in the fifties-style diner, her father looked at her.  He used the same look he’d always used when discussing ‘important’ matters with her – forehead wrinkled with a frown of concentration as he sought out her eyes to make sure she was really listening. 

“This has gone on long enough, Stephie.  Don’t you think it’s time to let me off the hook?”

“Don’t you think it’s time you started treating me like an adult?”

“Okay, first of all, adults don’t do the silent treatment bullshit you’ve been pulling.”  The words had the potential to be argumentative, but the quiet, easy tone kept things conversational.  “And secondly, I treated you like an adult.  I didn’t tell anybody – including my parents – that I was going to marry your mother.  I didn’t tell anybody when I decided to marry Sheridan.  Marriage is a very personal commitment that doesn’t need public approval.”

“I’m your daughter, not the public.”

“So you don’t like Sheridan.”

Stephanie pulled a face.  She had no problem with Sheridan.  From everything she knew of her, she was a nice woman, and Jesse hadn’t had any problems with her in the times that he’d stayed with Dad.

“Sheridan is fine.  This isn’t about her.”

He frowned more deeply, slowly spinning his coffee cup in a circle on the red tabletop.  “Your only issue is that I didn’t consult you first?  Well, I’m sorry, but you were the first one I called afterward.”

That made her sound petty and childish. 

“Dad, don’t oversimplify things.”

“Some things are just that simple, baby.  You said it yourself.  You’re my daughter.  I respect the hell out of the young woman you’ve become, but I’m the father here.  I’m not going to ever lean on your for advice.  That just ain’t happenin’.”

“Because you think of me as a child.”

“No,” he denied firmly, shaking his head.  “Because that’s not my job.  My job is to help you find your way through this crazy screwed up world.  If you get the idea I can’t find my own way, then that completely negates my purpose in your life.  If I can help it, you’ll never see me weak or uncertain.”

“That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to be Superman, Dad.  I’m a grown up now.”

He looked at her with eyes that she had inherited, taking a deep breath.  There was a little sadness lingering around their edges.

“But I need to be Superman, Steph.  Just let me.”

So much for never seeing him weak or uncertain.

She took a slow drink of her coffee and folded her arms on the edge of the table, deciding it was time to move on.  He could respect the hell out of her all he wanted, but he was always going to see her as his little girl. 

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. 

“How’s the new house?”

Eyebrows that were a mixture of blond and gray shifted up toward his messy hairline, hesitant to believe she was going to accept that easily. 

“It’s good,” he said slowly, letting his shoulders rest on the back of the seat.  “Your room looks like bland, boring, shit though.  When are you gonna do something about that?”

“Next weekend, when I come home for the housewarming party.”

His comfortable slouch went stiff again with curiosity and he leaned toward her over the table.  “I was going to tell you about that, but obviously you already know.  Jesse?”

“Sheridan.  She called me yesterday.”

The brief call had surprised Stephanie and it was another positive mark on her new step-mother’s scorecard.  Sheridan had wanted nothing more than to make sure she knew about the party and that her room was ready to be decorated whenever she wanted to do it.  The new Mrs. Bongiovi had also asked Stephanie to cut her dad some slack, vouching for the fact that he was upset over what had happened and missed his daughter.

“She did?”

“Yeah.”  She lifted her shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.  “Not sure why, but I think she might love you or something.”

His teeth flashed in a brief grin before saying, “I think I might love you or something, kiddo.”

She placed her hand in the one he offered, palm up over the table.  It was the same one that had held hers so many times over the years.  Work may not have allowed him to be with his children all the time, but when he was with them, he loved them with all he had.  He wasn’t a perfect father, but he was hers.

“I’m glad to hear that, old man.  The deposit for my spring break trip is due this week.”