I wipe my eyes and take a few breaths to calm my anger before it spirals into a violent outburst.

“Cove?” My name is spoken in the saddest of tones. “I can’t believe you had to endure such pain and fear all by yourself. You’re so dear to me, and hearing these things... I just wish I knew you long ago and could’ve helped you. It’s so sad,” she cries. “I wonder how many other lives that bastard destroyed. Do you think he was the same way when he was married to my mother? Maybe she went crazy because of him?”

“Paul was good at making people crazy, but your mother’s bipolar, and you know it’s not possible for another person to cause that, but, I wouldn’t doubt if he drove her mad and pushed her over the edge at times.”

Our legs entwine as she drops next to me and massages the arch and heel of my foot gently with her toes. I pull our black and grey striped comforter over our bodies and she nuzzles her head against my chest.

My fingers stroke her stomach lightly, and I’m reminded that we have a baby coming. Under my fingers is a tiny growing child, a kid who’ll never be harmed by either one of us. I kiss her forehead and forge onward, beyond tired, but refusing to fall asleep without asking her something I’ve asked a hundred times, convinced she’s not telling me the truth. “I know your father disappeared from your life at a young age and he didn’t return for many years, but did he ever hurt you? Or maybe your brother? Perhaps not sexually, but physically? I just don’t see how the two of you escaped his brutality when you were little.”

She doesn’t respond so I approach my question in a different way. “Sometimes, when I was at his home in Vegas, he’d lock me up.” I whisper. “If I mouthed off to him he’d put me in the trunk of his car as punishment. I know it was just another game to scare the shit out of me, or to try and turn me into a Stockholm syndrome victim; but I never became emotionally attached to him and that made things even worse. What he wanted was for me to worship him, but he knew all I ever felt was pure hatred.”

She turns her head and finally gives me her usual response. “He was always kind to me as a child, and I never saw him hurt my brother either. The three of us were very close; it was my mother who was the outsider, the monster in the house. I’ve already told you I was afraid of her, not him. But, what I don’t understand, Cove, is the fact that your father was with you in Vegas when you were too young to travel alone, and he pretended it was a business trip, all so your mother wouldn’t become suspicious. What the hell was he doing while all of this happened? I’m sorry to bring this up now, when we’re in the middle of other things, but thinking about the fact that he was there, in Vegas, and knew things happened in St. Louis, it all makes me ill and none of it makes sense. I’ve always had an uneasy feeling about it. I mean, come on, it’s so unreal and it pisses me off.”

Her mood’s changing. I can tell now when her train of thought gets lost, jumbled in her head until she becomes bitchy and angry, or does a one-eighty and either changes the subject or becomes a blubbering mess. I need to try and stop it from happening.

“I don’t want to make it sound like this shit with Paul was a daily occurrence, I’m telling you the things that stuck with me because they were so traumatic. Alright?”

“No, I want to know where your dad was during those moments, if it was only once or twice, or fifty times, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you think about that? Don’t you find it strange? What? Was he sitting in a hotel room watching television? Was he in Paul’s house listening?”

“We’ve talked about this. He had no choices, no possibility to...”

“I don’t believe any of it. Why you? Why did my father hate you so much that he did these things to you? It must have something to do with your father.”

“Soph, knock it off. Don’t start with the conspiracy theories and this shit again. My father didn’t know everything that was happening, you’re the only person I’ve ever opened up to with the details, and I don’t want to talk about him right now, okay?”

She’s thinking quietly, or on the other hand, she may actually be listening to my request to let it be. I grip the back of her neck and pull her toward me for a kiss. Her lips have gone cold, and I can taste the salt from her tears around her mouth. She made it. I feel as though I can open up to her a little each day and she’ll be able to help me. It’s not going to be pleasant for either one of us, but after tonight I know she’s strong enough to endure my memories, and spit them out without them consuming her as they have me. Maybe someday she’ll talk to me about her mother and brother, but for now, this was a good start toward a better life together.

“Your father may not have known in the beginning about Paul’s abuse, but he was fully aware of what you had to do for the company,” she whispers. “There’s no difference and my honest opinion is that I believe you’re too afraid to find out the truth.” She rolls on her side with her back to me and positions her body close to mine so we can spoon. I hold her in my arms and set my dick between her ass like a baby who needs a pacifier.

“I’ve also been thinking about David’s suicide,” she says. “He wouldn’t be behind the Scarlett unless he was meeting someone from the family back there.”

I close my eyes and sigh, allowing her to voice her final thoughts, no matter how difficult they are to hear. And she knows I’m thinking the same thing.

“Your father’s hiding something. I didn’t want to admit it earlier, but he’s been acting strangely, and now I’m unsure if I believe him.”

I don’t disagree with her, or say anything, not a word or a sound. My lips touch the back of her neck and I inhale the scent of her flesh. She smells clean like fresh cut grass. It calms my heart as I run my fingers over her stomach and listen to her take deep cleansing breaths; ridding her body and mind of the conversations from the night.

It takes awhile, but she calms down and finally drifts off to sleep. I’m able to slip away after holding her in my arms for some time. The fatigue I feel is purely physical, but mentally I’m wide-awake, still depressed, but stable. I look out at the dark, drizzly city, and then back to my wife. Both she and the city are quiet, shrouded in secrets that aren’t their own, and illuminated by our distant moon. The clouds are breaking apart and I’m able to make out a few stars. The name Celeste comes to mind as I’m looking into the night sky. I wonder if Soph would consider it if we have a girl. It sounds so heavenly, or even Haley, after the comet, and then again, maybe those are too similar to my porn name. For a boy, I’ve been thinking about Valen. In high school, I used to read a lot about the Roman Empire, one of my favorite periods in history, and I can remember a few Roman emperors with that name. Damn, that’s such a good sign that I’m thinking about the baby and not what we just talked about. Fuck yeah, I grin. What a badass release of some of my past.

I scratch my nuts and daydream about tomorrow. We need to go out, have a date, do something other than work and fuck. She’s different from most women, and it’s hard for me to make plans, or even surprise her with anything since she’s not a soap opera-pink-bubblegum-gossip-salon-girl. I know she just went shopping, a rare occasion, so we don’t need to do that, and we both dislike movies because it means sitting for two hours without talking to one another. It defeats the whole point of spending time together. I don’t want to disappear into another world while I’m in a theater; I want to be in hers. Maybe I’ll take a completely different approach and take her to the Butterfly House at the Botanical Gardens. Then again, that’s sorta girly, but at least a quiet setting to talk. No, even better, the City Museum. No, too noisy. Oh hell, it’ll come to me. I’ll look up some places online in the morning.