Sink: The Lost World (4 page)

“I want to be a seismologist when I get older,” Aaron said. “I need to know all the different rock types. So, can you help me with Clint?”

Cassie pursed her lips.

“We might be able to come to an arrangement,” she said.

“What kind of arrangement?” Aaron said.

“I help you, you help me,” Cassie said. “It’s the way the world works.”

“Are you going to be a politician?” Aaron said.

“A businesswoman,” Cassie said. “If I help you with Clint, you can help me with geology.”

Aaron looked at Cassie with newfound respect, though he did his best to keep it off his face.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Cassie said. “Even bimbos have brains.”

“Okay class,” Mrs. Rae said. “Return to your seats, please.”

Cassie picked up her things and left. Cassie Angelo might have been many things, but a bimbo was not one of them.

Pete returned to his seat beside Aaron.

“So, what happened?” he said. “You and Cassie looked mighty cozy huddled up over here.”

“I hope it didn’t look like that,” Aaron said. “That’s the last thing that would happen, and the last one I would ever want Clint to think he saw.”

“I definitely saw something, a spark, between the two of you,” Pete said.

“Will you leave off?” Aaron said. “She has about as much interest in me as I have in her. Nothing will ever happen.”

“Not with that attitude,” Pete said.

“We might have come to an arrangement,” Aaron said. “Hopefully I won’t have to deal with her too much.”

Aaron shut
the front door and dumped his backpack on the floor. He breathed in a deep nostril of the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen and followed them like a mouse to cheese. Zoe was bent over the oven, checking the consistency of whatever was in one of the pots.

“What are you cooking?” Aaron said.

Zoe started, a spaghetti noodle hanging from her lips. She sucked it into her mouth.

“I didn’t hear you come back,” Zoe said. “I’m cooking your favorite: spaghetti Bolognese.”

“With meatballs?” Aaron said.

“With
real
meatballs,” Zoe said. “Vegetarian ones for me.”

Aaron clapped his hands and jiggled on the spot.

“What’s the special occasion?” he said.

“Nothing special,” Zoe said. “I just thought you’d like it today. I bought some milkshake too. It’s in the fridge.”

Aaron took the milkshake out of the fridge, shook it vigorously and put it to his lips.

“Glass,” Zoe said.

Aaron took a glass from the overhead cupboard and filled it with thick milkshake.

“You’re back early,” Aaron said.

“I wanted to cook you dinner,” Zoe said.

“How did the big meeting go today?” Aaron said.

“Oh, it went fine,” Zoe said. “I got the contract.”

“That’s great!” Aaron said. “Shall I open a bottle of wine?”

“Yes, please,” Zoe said.

“Red?” Aaron said.

“Please,” Zoe said.

Aaron pulled a bottle from the wine rack. It was cheap, less than ten dollars a bottle, but it was his mother’s favorite. He screwed the corkscrew into the cork and, with a little difficulty, pulled it out with a pop. He poured a glass and put it on the table.

Zoe looked at her son and smiled a smile that, to Aaron, looked very distracted.

Cassie was surprised
to find her father’s limousine parked outside their ten bedroom villa on the outskirts of town. She was surprised because he was
never
home early. He most often returned long after she had turned in for the night and she only really ever saw him at the weekends. She didn’t mind. It was how she had grown up.

Rosetta, her father’s assistant and driver, smiled at Cassie as she approached. She was stern-faced most of the time but had a soft spot for Cassie.

“Hey Cass, what’s up?” Rosetta said.

“Nothing much,” Cassie said. “Is father home?”

“Yes,” Rosetta said. “He’s inside. He wants to speak with you.”

“Speak with me?” Cassie said.

A tremor went through her. The last time her father needed to speak with her it was after he had discovered she’d been skiving off school Wednesday afternoons to go shopping. The problem was, unless he was clear about what she had done wrong right off the bat she was likely to end up revealing something different to whatever sin he thought she’d committed. She decided she would act calm and innocent until he revealed what it was she had done.

“Do you know what about?” Cassie said.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak to your father about that,” Rosetta said.

Cassie knew through hard experience Rosetta would never tell her any more than that. It would have been easier to get blood out of a stone.

“Your new arm looks good,” Cassie said, turning toward the house.

“Thanks,” Rosetta said. “It’s from your father. It’s top of the line.”

Cassie opened the heavy oak front door of their house, which muttered a deep foreboding groan. She could hear her father’s voice from the direction of his study. He was on his cell phone. Of course he was. He was on his cell more often than she was, and she herself was an Olympic-level user. Business acquaintances often remarked that they had known her father for more than ten years and felt they had only ever had one conversation with him.

Cassie peeked her head into his study, waiting until his voice pointed away from her. He always paced while on the phone. She saw him in profile. He looked more frazzled than usual, and kept tripping over his words, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next in the conversation. It was not an expression Cassie had seen on her father’s face often.

Cassie turned and headed toward the living room-cum-kitchen. She dumped her bag on the floor, picked up the TV remote and turned it on. A game show was on. The presenter said something vaguely funny and the audience laughed.
Gotta love canned laughter.

Cassie took out a loaf of bread from the bread bin and began making a ham sandwich. She added a dollop of mayonnaise and moved to the island.

Bryan, still on his cell, came into the living room – a first. He never brought work into the rest of the house. He caught Cassie’s eye, covered the handset with a hand and said, “Be with you in a minute.” Then he turned back to the phone. “I know, I know. But I’m not sure if I can provide you with those documents right now. We’re still going through the analysis phase. I’ll let you know closer to the time. Yes, all right. Bye.”

He hung up and joined Cassie in the kitchen.

“You’re home early,” Cassie said.

“I wanted to speak with you about something,” Bryan said, switching the TV off.

Cassie’s heart rose into her throat, but she acted nonchalant.

“Do you want something to drink?” Bryan said.

“Martini on the rocks?” Cassie said.

Bryan gave her a flat look.

“Orange juice, please,” Cassie said.

Bryan poured two glasses and set them on the large kitchen island. He put hers on the oak beam through the middle – forgetting the coaster – which he always did, so Cassie slid one under her glass. Bryan downed his orange juice in one go and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He sat his glass down on the table, but for once Cassie did not tidy up after him. He was frazzled and distracted.

“What’s up, Dad?” Cassie said.

“‘What’s up, Dad?’” Bryan said. “Don’t you mean ‘What’s up, Doc?’”

He smiled with a child’s grin. He was nervous, Cassie realized. Maybe it wasn’t anything she had done after all.

“I…” Bryan said, before looking at his shoes.

“What?” Cassie said.

She had never seen her father this way before. She was beginning to get nervous.

“Is it the company?” Cassie said. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Bryan said. “It has nothing to do with the company.”

“What, then?” Cassie said.

He looked up at her, his eyes searching her face, reading her expression.

“I can’t tell you,” he said.

“Then what did you want to see me for?” Cassie said.

Bryan didn’t answer. Cassie stood up.

“I’m going to go change,” she said. “I’m meeting friends tonight. That’s if you think you’re okay to be alone tonight?”

“I’ll be fine,” Bryan said.

Cassie left, shaking her head. Just what was going on in the world?

“Get the placemats
and cutlery ready,” Zoe said.

While Aaron dressed the table, Zoe stirred the vegetables, simmering in tomato sauce, and turned the hobs off. She drained the water from the noodles and then dished some out onto two plates using a pair of tongs. Then she spooned some of the sauce into the middle of the noodles, adding meatballs that she cooked in a separate pan. She took a deep breath before carrying the plates over to the dining table.

“Looks great,” Aaron said.

“Bon appetite,” Zoe said.

They dug into their meals, Aaron going first for the meatballs, while Zoe took another sip of her wine to gird her spirit.
The moment of truth.

“We have a good life, don’t we?” Zoe said.

“I guess so,” Aaron said, winding the noodles around his fork.

“You guess so?” Zoe said.

“School’s hard sometimes,” Aaron said.

“We all have things we find difficult sometimes,” Zoe said. “I don’t always like my job.”

“But at least you have a choice,” Aaron said. “I
have
to go to school.”

“Only until you’re eighteen, and then you can choose for yourself what you’d like to do,” Zoe said.

“I suppose,” Aaron said.

“It’s just been you and me for so long I was wondering if you’d considered what it would be like to have one or two more people around here,” Zoe said.

“You’re going to get some lodgers?” Aaron said.

“No, I was thinking of something more long-term than that,” Zoe said.

“You’re going to adopt?” Aaron said.

“No,” Zoe said. “I was thinking… what if we had some people come live with us for a while. We wouldn’t have to make a decision now, but we could think about it and meet them and see if we get on well, and if we do, we could make it permanent.”

“Permanent?” Aaron said. “Which people are you talking about?”

“People like us,” Zoe said.

Zoe put her hand to her forehead. She felt a headache coming on. She didn’t know if it was caused by the wine or the situation.

“You mean you want to house some refugees like the ones in Europe from Syria?” Aaron said.

“No, not refugees,” Zoe said. “People who we might share our lives with one day.”

The living room phone rang. Zoe debated about whether or not to answer it, turning toward her chair, before changing her mind and turning back to Aaron, before turning back to the phone again.

“One second,” Zoe said.

She got up and answered the phone.

“Hello?” she said.

“Have you told him yet?” Bryan said.

“You know, it’s customary to have a pleasantry or two when speaking on the phone,” Zoe said.

There was a pause.

“Well?” Bryan said. “Have you?”

“No,” Zoe said. “You?”

“No,” Bryan said with a sigh. “It’s not as easy as I expected. She came home, we chatted for a bit, and I was about to tell her, when the words wouldn’t come out.”

“I was just about to tell Aaron,” Zoe said. “I cooked him his favorite meal to grease the wheels.”

“Favorite meal!” Bryan said. Zoe could hear him smacking his forehead with his palm. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Do you want to call it off?” Zoe said. “It’s not too late to go back.”

“No,” Bryan said. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” Zoe said.

“I face boardrooms full of CEOs and VPs every day and yet I’m afraid of speaking to my own thirteen-year-old daughter,” Bryan said.

“I know how you feel,” Zoe said. “I’m really not sure how this is supposed to go.”

“Me too,” Bryan said. “I haven’t been in the dating game for years.”

“It’s not the dating game I’m worried about,” Zoe said. “It’s the introducing-my-kid-to-the-new-man-in-my-life game I’m concerned with.”

“Right,” Bryan said.

“This was your idea,” Zoe said.

“I know, I know,” Bryan said. “What should we do?”

“We should act like adults and bite the bullet and tell them,” Zoe said. “Like we agreed.”

“But I’m not sure if she’s going to like it,” Bryan said.

“They’ll get used to it,” Zoe said. “We’ve been putting this off for a while. Maybe they won’t react as badly as we thought.”

“I hope not,” Bryan said.

“So, what do you want to do?” Zoe said. “Pull out? Carry on with the relationship we already have?”

“No,” Bryan said. “I want you, like I said. I’ll find the courage. I’ll tell her.”

“So will I,” Zoe said. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Bryan said.

Zoe hung up and returned to the kitchen. Aaron no longer sat at the dining table. He stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing off his plate. He sat it on the drying rack and wiped his hands on the dishcloth.

“Where are you going?” Zoe said.

“I’ve finished,” Aaron said.

“I thought we could talk for a while,” Zoe said.

“I’ve got lots of homework to do,” Aaron said.

“Do it later,” Zoe said.

“It’s due tomorrow,” Aaron said.

“Then I’ll give you a note,” Zoe said.

“A note?” Aaron said. “A note for what?”

“To explain why you couldn’t do your homework,” Zoe said.

“Why couldn’t I do my homework?” Aaron said.

“Because we were talking,” Zoe said.

“But we’re not talking,” Aaron said.

“But we’re about to,” Zoe said. “Sit down.”

Aaron frowned at his mother, his eyebrows drawing down into a straight line across his eyes like his father’s used to. Zoe shook her head, dispelling the image of her dead husband.

“Sit down, please,” Zoe said.

“This sounds serious,” Aaron said.

“It is serious,” Zoe said.

“I swear, I haven’t done anything wrong,” Aaron said.

“I know you haven’t,” Zoe said. “You’re a good boy. An adult. Which is why I’m going to treat you like one.”

“You’re going to make me get a job I hate?” Aaron said.

“What?” Zoe said. “No. And not all adults hate their jobs.”

“Most seem to,” Aaron said.

Zoe took a deep breath to score a line under the conversation and begin again.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

“Oh God,” Aaron said. “This really doesn’t sound good.”