She’s signed in, and I can see more posts now than when I was in my office. Shit, she has a lot of friends. There’re sixty comments from people I’ve never even heard of, telling her how beautiful she looks in the new green dress she bought the other day. And they’re right, it’s a beautiful selfie and she’s puckering her lips, looking all badass in the shot. My wife’s fucking hot. I click some of the names and see most of the people are from her hometown of Philly or Temple University where she attended college. They must be random acquaintances. I’ve overheard people at the Scarlett mention only around ten percent of their friends on Facebook are people they actually hang out with in real life, and the rest are, I’ll use a Fight Club term for it, ‘single-serving friends.’

My body jolts when my cell rings and I tap the answer button as rapidly as humanly possible.

“Hello?”

“Ahh, now that’s a civilized way to answer your phone. So you’ve learned how to show some respect to your elders finally?”

“Listen, Mark. You sick, twisted...”

“Whoa, now. Hold on. I was calling to apologize. My baby sister’s given me shit all night about the fun you and I had together over the past two days. I guess I should’ve kept our play dates a secret.”

“Where is she?”

“On her way up.”

I release a breath and close my eyes. “Alone?” I ask.

“Umm, she has a few childhood friends with her, but more or less, yeah, she’s alone.”

“You know, if I ever see you again... you dumbass... you put me through hell... I’d love to pound my fist into your face. I think I’ll rip your eyes out and shove them up your ass.”

“Whoa, whoa, the violence, Cove,” he laughs. “Besides, little Sophie already gave me a good shiner. I forgot how tough my sister is, which is good because I know she’ll do the same to your face if you ever fuck with her.”

“You better not have hurt her.”

“I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

“No? You grabbed my broken fingers, clenched my nuts, and stalked me, but you’re not going to hurt anyone?”

“Actually, the fingers were a mistake, if you must know. I was trying to hold your hand. And your nuts, well, I was only challenging you. It was a massage, not a clench, and you didn’t let me get very far anyway. I thought you might enjoy it, like old times. Thought you might cheat on your wife, but you didn’t. You passed my other test as well. You declined my offer to make a bundle working for my company. I think you’ll make a good husband for my sister.”

“Jesus,” I pace and do my classic hand in the hair move, frustrated by his words. “So, you gonna run Jameson Industries like your father, ‘cause the way you treated me, you’re just as disturbed as he was.”

“And I already told you that hurts my feelings. God, I wanted us to spend some quality time together, but I guess I fucked up. You know, I’ve got my mother and father’s genes inside of me, and considering that I was molded from the two of them, I’m actually quite sane.”

I hear our front door open and the wheels of a suitcase slide along the floor. “She’s here,” I say, relieved.

“Good. She’s a special girl. Take good care of her.”

“You home?” Sophia calls out.

“And Cove,” Mark says. “I’m sorry for a lot of things, but mainly I’m sorry about my father. He was a sick bastard and I should’ve helped you get the fuck away from him, but I didn’t. I want you to know I did try to set things right in the end.”

“How so?”

“David Rosen.”

“Did you kill him?” I whisper, sliding my hand down my face as I hear Sophia dragging the suitcase up the stairs. “I’ll never believe a man with David’s personality killed himself. No matter what the cops say.”

“Sometimes, Cove. You just never know what happens to people.”

Sophia stands in the doorway with an expression of worry and regret on her face.

“It’s all over now,” he says and ends the call. I lay my cell down and scan my wife’s body from head to toe. She’s alright.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s not your fault, Dove. You did nothing wrong. You’re the normal one in the family.”

“No one’s ever called me normal before,” she says in a quiet voice while looking into my eyes. “Are you okay? Mark can be... well, I should say, he’s insane.”

“Wild,” I respond.

“Wild Monkey. It’s what my mother used to call him when we were young, only he always thought she was saying Wild Marky. That’s why Marcus Wild sounded somewhat familiar to me,” she says, still standing at a distance.

That space between us is killing me and I feel detached, as if we’re speaking to one another on a cell instead of in the same room. She should be in my arms. “I need to hold you,” I whisper. “Come closer,” I lift an arm and she releases the handle of the suitcase, sashaying her sweet ass and wrapping her arms securely around my body. Thank God. After a kiss to the top of her head, down the side of her face, and to her soft lips, she’s mine again. “I love you so much, Sophia.”

She tightens her arms and puts her head against my chest. “I’m glad you’re not upset with me. I told the police to make sure you knew I was fine, and then I left a message. Did you get it?”

“I did.”

“He was such a dick when he called you, I heard him, and I couldn’t get the cell out of his hand.”

“What did he want?”

One of the bulldogs lets out a bark and Sophia jumps with a quick turn toward the stairwell. I hear the guest suite open and the dogs’ toenails clack on our hardwood floor.

“It’s Haverty,” I whisper. The front door opens and it sounds like he’s taking them out for their final walk of the night. “His mother passed away.”

She exhales. “Oh my God. What happened?”

“Alyssa said it was probably a heart attack.”

“Why is he here?”

“They’re both here... Hell Soph, you have no idea what I saw tonight... they’ve been living in a house that’s caving in on itself, with no electricity, nothing. I’m sick to my stomach with the thought that he was in my life each and every day, and I never knew.”

She sits on the bed and covers her mouth; her eyes in pain as she listens to me describe the place, the leaks, the neighborhood, and the scene with his mother. We make a plan to offer them assistance with whatever they need to get back on their feet. Support for their grief; help with the arrangements, getting their electricity back on, the house cleaned and in order, and care for the upcoming weeks until we figure out a long-term solution. I’d say a second raise this year is in order. Not that money will repair his heart, but it will help him out in other ways.

“It’s stressful living in such conditions, believe me, I grew up in a house where at times we only had cheese and milk in the refrigerator,” my wife says. “It’s depressing. At least to me it always was. I can’t believe how cheerful and fun-loving he’s been if all of this was going on in his life.”

“Some people hide their pain better than others.”

She nods as we hear the dogs run through the living room and back to the guest suite.

“I’m glad they’re here,” she whispers. “And Cove, I’m sorry again about Mark.”

“Yeah, I know,” I step back and cross my arms as an image of him enters my mind. I’m in defensive mode once again. “So tell me what you guys talked about.”

“My life, you, David, the business, and my father,” she hesitates and shakes her head. “I had no idea David put my brother in charge of Jameson Industries, or that he accepted the offer, or...” her tone changes to anger. “That my father had my brother working for that damn company since he was in his early twenties. So you knew him... you met him long before you ever knew me? Do I even want to know what that means?”

I walk over to our bedroom window and let the rain distract my thoughts, embarrassed and ashamed, incapable of going back to that time right now in my head.