Daddy Dearest

Chapter Ten

Ben POV

I might have a drinking problem.

When Waverly sent me up to our room to change out of my work clothes and take a shower, I made a pit stop at the den, unlocked the cabinet in the bar where I kept all of my good scotch and bourbon, uncapped the Laphroaig, and poured myself two shots worth into a snifter. The 25-year scotch was meant to be sipped and savored, but once again, I just poured it down the gullet like my throat was on fire. Then I locked away the used glass in the cabinet.

I needed a drink. It was the only way I could numb myself these days to Melody's allure. God, she smelled good today. When she was standing next to me this afternoon while I sat at my desk in the yearbook office, listening to her pitch for a feature, I have to admit that I was only paying it half the attention it deserved. I was more absorbed by her presence. Her shiny, black hair; full mouth, button nose, smooth skin, and heart-shaped face. My trance was only broken when she sneezed right on me. Luckily, she still had my hankie on hand and managed to cover her nose and mouth in time. I picked up the flowers and set them down on a table some distance away.

Melody looked mortified. "Oh my God, Mr. D, I'm so sorry. I didn't get any of my cooties on you, did I?"

The very fact that she still uses the word "cooties" should really be setting off alarm bells in my head, but instead I thought it charming. "No harm done, Mel."

Mel. I'd never called her that before. I know the twins do. I prefer Melody. Meh-low-dee. The syllables just roll off the tongue so leisurely. Mel is a nickname for a guy called Melvin.

"So what do you think of my idea, sir?" she asked anxiously.

I blinked, returning to myself. I'd been concentrating on identifying her scent. A mixture of orange blossoms, cucumber, and jasmine. I wondered if it were a perfume or a combination of soap, shampoo, lotion, and deodorant. Maybe a light cologne that smelled fruity, which I know she and Lottie sometimes buy when I drive them to that Hello Kitty store in Little Tokyo.

Melody was looking at me expectantly. "I apologize, Miss Plum. I'm sure you're aware by now of my mind's tendency to drift. My wife finds it most annoying, I assure you."

She laughed; a tinkling, joyous sound that enchanted me. "No worries, Mr. D. It happens to me when I'm talking to Nancy, too. She'd be telling me about her day, then I'd suddenly drift off, and before I know it, she's snapping her fingers in my face."

I nodded in commiseration. We were co-conspirators, she and I, and part of a special club of people who'd rather be locked in a room somewhere with a laptop for company to write for hours, instead of socializing with our fellow humans. "I get that, too. I think your idea is sound, Melody. Just show me the mock-up before you present it to Tessie and Marco, all right?"

She nodded happily and skipped back toward her fellow editors.

I had no idea what she actually said, but she's a smart girl. I'm certain she didn't pitch me anything stupid. Besides, I'd have to admit that I wasn't paying attention because I was too busy ogling her like an old pervert.

Having taken my medicine, my hands stop shaking and the pulse in my throat slows down to a nice, steady beat. Once I assured myself that I had momentarily tamed the vicious, ravening lust-beast, I go up the staircase as quietly as I could because I'm a bad person and actually intend to stand next to my daughter's bedroom door, so that I can listen in on her girl-talk with the object of my desire.

This is just beyond the pale, Benjamin, I tell myself, as I go past Charlotte's bedroom and flatten myself against the wall between hers and Charlie's doors. If Waverly were to come up right now and see me, I'd say I was concerned about Lottie's diet and wanted to check if she had been talking to Melody about it. She'd buy that. I've been quite involved in my kids' lives for the last few years.

I catch a snippet of their conversation. They're talking about the flowers and Melody teases Charlotte by telling her she gave them to me. My wicked daughter loves the salaciousness of it, since she seems to delight in everything that aggravates her mother these days. Melody didn't actually give the flowers to me, of course. She just passed them over to me, an adult, to dispose of because they frightened her and she thought I would know what to do.

Charlotte continues to taunt her, teasing her about her little crush on me and Melody doesn't deny it. My dear daughter tells her I'm way too old for her and she'd probably have to change my diapers someday. I laugh quietly, shaking my head. The little brat. Serves me right for snooping.

I proceed to the bedroom I share with my wife, shed the clothes I wore to work, and take a five-minute shower. I put on deodorant and a tiny bit of the Clive Christian cologne that cost me five hundred pounds on my last trip to London. Women and girls tend to tell me they love how it smells on me, so I thought, why not. The shirt I pulled over my head, I've been told, is very flattering as it shows off my broad chest and shoulders, plus the color brings out the blueness of my eyes.

I push my palms down on either side of the sink and take a close look at myself in the mirror. "You're pathetic, Davenport."

I'm disgusted with myself. Why am I feeling this way? Why should I try to impress a girl I practically raised with my own children? Yes, she looks just like her mother, with whom I was in love for several years, but Melody is a whole person all on her own; a person I actually like. She's funny, clever, kind, and admires my work. The fact that she is beautiful is just icing on the cake, as far as I'm concerned.

I walk into Lottie's bedroom just as the two girls were discussing Steve Mason, the boy my daughter has been obsessed with for two years. Apparently, Steve asked her out for coffee. Go, Lottie. I refrain from congratulating her as it would reveal that I'd been spying on them.

I also overheard Melody telling Lottie that Charlie had quizzed Melody about her crush on me. This is potentially worrying. My son could tell his mother, then Waverly might feel compelled to talk to Melody about it, which in turn would cause Melody to feel awkward, then maybe she wouldn't come over anymore. I'm unable to decide if that's a good or bad thing.

On one hand, I wouldn't see her as much. I don't have her in any of my classes and yearbook only meets three times a week. Once I take up the job at the college, I wouldn't see her at all. Maybe then this insanity will go away on its own and I could get on with my life.

Or it could go the other way. After Merry's loss, I nearly lost my mind. When I first met her, I wasn't yet married to my wife and Merry, a medical resident at Cedars-Sinai, had just gotten engaged to Harry. And I just... fell. With Waverly, it wasn't love at first sight; in fact, we hated each other for months before we decided we were actually attracted to each other and started dating. I always thought "love at first sight" was just a lazy writing trope, until I experienced it for myself.

In short, I was pole-axed. She was a vision, an angel in a white lab coat. I hadn't met her before because both Harry and I had been living in New York and Harry had met her while he was in a conference in LA. She was a fourth-year medical student at UCLA at the time. When Harry moved to California to be with her, I joined him after two weeks because a big Hollywood studio had called and offered me six figures for the movie rights to my first novel. In turn, Waverly followed me six months later, after finishing her internship at the Behavioral Science Center in Syracuse.

Harry said he wanted to finally introduce me to the girl he was going to marry. I was excited for him because he was nearing his mid-thirties and yet still played the field like he was a young man without a care in the world. But now, he told me, he'd finally found the woman who'd be the first Mrs. Harry Plum. Or Dr. Mrs. Harry Plum, as it were.

We were to meet her at a pub with a girlfriend of hers, who was a nurse. I complained to Harry about his fiancee bringing over a girl, who was supposed to keep me company, so I wouldn't feel like a third wheel. Waverly would kill me, I told him, if she found out about this. It was that mercurial Irish temper of hers. He just laughed and said he wouldn't tell if I didn't. That was Harry in a nutshell.

We got to the pub before the ladies and I got us a couple of bitters. Harry said it was my round since I just received a huge windfall, even though the bastard was a multi-millionaire because he came from a rich, prominent East Coast family. I was the first one to see the ladies since Harry was messing around with his BlackBerry.

I figured Meredith had to be the tall blonde who looked a little bit like Rachel Hunter. She fit Harry's type to a T. Statuesque, stacked like a brickhouse, and lots of golden hair. I'd never known him to deviate from his type. Yep, that's a Meredith, all right. She even looked like a Meredith. Or an Ainsley. Maybe an Ashleigh. One of those weird spellings. I checked out the slender Asian woman walking next to her and my heart stood still.

She was beautiful. Long, black hair; dark eyes that tilted upward in the corners, full lips, and a thin, but curvy body. Now that's propa-fit. A hackneyed line came into my mind: "Of all the pubs in all the cities of the world, she had to walk into mine." My next thought was, I'm in trouble. If this girl was as keen on me as I was on her, I was probably going to cheat on Waverly.

My third thought was, if this girl would have me, I would drive us to Reno tonight and marry her.

I waved them over and the blonde's eyes lit up as soon as she spotted me. From five feet away, she scanned me from head to toe. I looked all right today, I think. Wearing a short-sleeved, buttoned down burgundy shirt and chinos from Banana Republic. A black jumper from the Gap, which had a small hole along the side where the seam had come undone. And glasses. I didn't bother with contacts because I got lazy. I'd been playing Halo in my flat when Harry called. He said Meredith was getting off work early for once and wanted to hang out.

I was a little disturbed by the idea of Harry's fiancee checking me out, but shrugged it off. I was a decent-looking guy. Maybe she was just scoping out what kind of sleazeball Harry had brought for her lovely friend. And boy, was she lovely.

She smiled and waved at me. At the sight of her smile, I got a little light-headed. Before she even reached the table, I was already mentally composing a Shakespearean sonnet for her. By the time we reach Reno, I'd have half a book's worth of poetry composed and dedicated to her lush mouth and the gentle slope of her nose.

In another minute, my dreams of bringing her back to North Yorkshire to meet my parents and my semi-racist grandmother were dashed, along with my hopes of joining England's Olympic tennis team five years ago. My future wife draped her arms around Harry's neck and kissed him on the mouth.

I was flabbergasted. So then I wondered if maybe they were just really friendly and Harry's blonde fiancee felt super secure about their relationship, so she didn't worry about Harry's tendency to flirt with anyone female. But that was before I saw the two-carat Marquis cut diamond ring that my Asian siren wore on her finger. I knew all about the ring because I went to Harry Winston's with Harry to help pick it out.

I looked away as my friend began to kiss her back and wished I were somewhere else.

"Yeah, they're always like this," said the blonde with laughter in her voice. "I'm Audrey, by the way." She held out her hand to me.

"I'm Ben Davenport," I said, shaking her hand. "May I get you a drink?"

"Oh, Merry didn't say you were British. I love your accent." An alluring smile slowly crept across her lips. "And yes, I would love a drink."

I offered her my arm and she placed her hand on the crook of my elbow, giggling as she did so. "My, what a gentleman."

"We Brits have a reputation to uphold," I said dryly as I led her to an empty stool at the bar. The one next to her was thankfully empty, too, so I took it for myself. I signaled to the bartender, who came up to us immediately. Probably because I had a pretty bird with me this time. Earlier, I couldn't get the guy's attention until I let out a one-note wolf whistle, which Waverly had taught me to do.

"Yes, sir?" When he saw it was me again, he scowled. "What can I get you?"

"Laphroaig straight, if you have it. Make it a double." I gestured to Audrey. Hah, I knew her name was something like that. "And whatever the lady desires."

She turned to look at me with a saucy expression and lifted an eyebrow before facing the bartender again. "I'll just have a Jack and Diet Coke, please. With cherries on top."

The bartender winked at her. "You got it, precious."

We both got our drinks fairly quickly, so Audrey and I decided to hang out at the bar to chat for a while to give Harry and his future wife some space for canoodling. Audrey was bright, funny, and well-read. She said she'd never heard of me before, but would look for my book at Borders the next time she went book-shopping. After we finished our drinks, I ordered another round for us and we walked back to the table where Harry and his fiancee were.

"Hey, mate, where did you get off to?" Harry asked upon our return, his arm around the lovely Meredith's shoulders.

I seethed quietly and reminded myself that Harry was like my big brother, so I should be happy for him even though he was going to marry the woman I had just fallen in love with.

"Drinks," Audrey said, holding up two cocktails. She had her drink plus Meredith's, which was a vodka martini. She gave the other woman her drink. "This is for you. It's from Ben."

Merry smiled at me and for that brief instant, all the sins weighing my soul down were lifted. "Thank you, Ben. I'm afraid we haven't been introduced. Harry is awfully rude. I'm Meredith Zhang." She offered her hand to me.

I reached across the table and clasped her tiny hand within my own. At the point of contact, a jolt went through me and I was suddenly wide awake. Every cell in my body, my never endings positively lit up. I met her eyes warily to see if she experienced something similar and she was looking a little dazed herself.

"Whoa," she said, pulling her hand back. "Weird static shock."

"Yeah." I gulped down a mouthful of my excellent single-malt scotch. "Harry talks about you all the time. I feel like I know you already."

"Same here." She laughed. "Harry talks about you so much that--"

"Hey, wait a minute." Harry scowled at me. "Where's my beer, you cheap bastard?"

I sneered at him. "Get your own. I was nice enough to get the first round and buy drinks for the ladies. Give me a break, I'm a starving writer."

"Don't let him fool you, ladies." Harry smirked and pointed at me. "That man's got deep pockets. He's flushed with cash right now."

I was tempted to throw a glass at his head, but he had already turned away to walk to the bar. I hated discussing money in public. It's just bad manners.

Meredith touched my arm to get my attention and I felt that zap again. "Harry said your first book was short-listed for both the Pulitzer and Man Booker Prizes. How exciting. And now Paramount has bought the movie rights."

I smiled and tried to ignore how much her touch disconcerted me. "Like I always tell people, it was an honor to just be nominated. Hey, there's always someday."

"Keep at it." Meredith flashed me two thumbs up. "Have you read any Kazuo Ishiguro? He won the Man Booker Prize for 'Remains of the Day' in 1989, I think. The movie was great, but the book was phenomenal."

I couldn't have fallen more in love with her at that moment. "He's actually one of my favorite authors. I attended a workshop of his while I was still at Oxford."

Audrey grabbed my arm. "You went to Oxford?"

Meredith laughed. The sound had a musical quality to it, like a hundred tiny bells tinkling in synchrony. "He's one of Harry's literary geniuses. He managed to persuade Ben to finish his doctorate at NYU, instead of Oxford."

Audrey gave me an odd look. "Why?"

"They have a better writing program," I said with a shrug. "Besides, I was looking to get out of England for a change of scenery."

Harry returned too soon, but Meredith continued to chat with me as though we'd been friends for ages. We talked about literature, cinema, the Bush administration, and Greek philosophy. Every moment I spent with her, I fell deeper in love. I was convinced she must have felt the same instant connection.

Needless to say, I did not cheat on Waverly that night or any other night. Merry went home with Harry and Audrey was so annoyed that I paid all of my attention to Merry that she started talking to other people around us. Harry teased me about dropping the ball with Audrey, but she did nothing for me. I only had eyes for Merry.

But Merry only had eyes for my best friend. It was obvious that the two of them were really in love. I couldn't ruin that. For once, Harry was truly happy.

And yet two days before their wedding, I just had to confess my feelings to the bride. I went to see her at her flat and told her I was in love with her. She didn't look surprised. With tears in her eyes, she said she had sensed it all along and had been hoping I'd keep it to myself because she would have been better off not hearing said out loud. She touched my face and murmured, "Perhaps in another lifetime." Afterward, she hugged me and held me for a few minutes. She said I should read a book called "Soul Mountain" by Gao Xingjian and then she showed me the door.

To this day, I haven't figured out why she recommended that book to me. After her death, I read and reread it multiple times from cover to cover in my quest to find if she had left me a secret message.

I don't think she ever told Harry about it because Harry never confronted me and tried to break my nose. The wedding went off without a hitch, I was Harry's best man, and Waverly caught the bouquet. As soon as we got home, I drank myself sick. I threw up until I was hollowed out and had a devil of a hangover the next day. Waverly patiently cleaned me up, along with my vomit. She and I got married in a courthouse in Pasadena a month later.

Seven years go by and while I love my wife, I still yearned for Meredith. But I kept my feelings locked up in a metal box inside my head.

And then tragedy struck. Merry was driving home after a long shift at the hospital, when a drunk driver ran a red light and T-boned her car. She died right then and there as a result of the impact, leaving behind a husband and a six-year-old daughter.

I could deal with Merry not loving me back and marrying my best friend, because at least I could still see her once in a while. What I couldn't deal with was never seeing Merry ever again. Never hearing her laugh, dumb jokes, and snarky commentary about everything going on with the world. No more lazy afternoons when we would sneak off to matinee showings of movies that our spouses wouldn't enjoy. She was just gone.

So I went nuts. And wrote the best book of my entire career so far. 

If I couldn't see Melody anymore, would the grief be as bad as losing her mother? Of course not. Because I know she would still be alive somewhere, growing into adulthood and probably having the time of her life. There is great comfort in that.

I go to the kitchen to see if Waverly needed help setting up the table and find that Noah has already taken care of it with Maddie's help. Charlie is standing next to his mother, preparing the salad. "Well, it looks like you guys have everything in hand. That means Daddy can sit in the den and watch the evening news for at least five minutes."

Maddie laughed. "No, you can't, Daddy. Dinner is ready."

Noah is sitting at his usual spot at the dinner table, reading "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro. I experience a moment of deja vu.

"Where are the girls?" Waverly demanded, looking slightly harassed.

"I don't know." I shrug. "I never know what's going on in this house anymore."

My daughter and Melody suddenly pop out from behind me. "Mmm-hmm, smells good," Lottie pronounced with exaggerated excitement. "I bet it's Chicken Pesto Pasta!"

"Ha-ha, you're wrong." Maddie stuck out her tongue at her older sister. "It's Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken and mushrooms."

I need a drink.