The Mistress
Page 75

“No. Maybe...” Wesley sighed heavily. “I need to tell you something and I don’t want to say it, but I try very hard not to be an ass most of the time. My father can be an ass, and I’ve spent my whole life trying not to turn into him. But every now and then I say stuff and I hear it in his voice.”
“Terrifying thought that one can so easily turn into one’s parents.”
“My father’s no monster, though. He’s a good man. He’s just...an ass. I think the word Nora used was imperious. He’s old money, at least for this country. I think he thinks he’s kind of a king. He does nice things for people because he’s...what’s the word I’m looking for? Nora would know.”
“Magnanimous?” Søren offered.
“That’s it. Magnanimous. It’s not normal charity or kindness. It’s ‘Here, let me show you how rich and powerful I am by paying for your son’s surgery or buying your farm that’s going into foreclosure and allowing you to stay on it.’ He loves the gratitude, the homage from the peasantry. He does the right things, but not always for the right reasons.”
“Better than doing the wrong things. Trust me, I have seen that side, as well.”
Wesley rubbed the back of his neck, still sore from where he’d been knocked out.
“I used to try to understand what it was about my father that bugged me. And it wasn’t the magnanimous gestures. He’s got the money to spend, he’s helping people, go for it. Great. He dotes on my mom, he’s fair with people. He was never abusive or violent. If anyone ever tried to hurt me or Mom, he’d destroy them. No doubt. He’s a good father, and I do love him.”
“But?”
“But I don’t think I’ve ever once heard him say, ‘I’m sorry, I was wrong.’ I told that to Nora and she said, ‘Being a rich white son of a bitch means never having to say you’re sorry.’ She said that and I decided I’d be the kind of man who would say it, who would apologize when I said or did the wrong thing. I would admit it if I got something wrong. So...” He paused.
“Take your time,” Søren said, almost smiling. Wesley appreciated that Søren was at least trying not to laugh at him.
Wesley took a deep breath. Like a Band-Aid, he told himself. Rip it off.
“I’m sorry,” Wesley said. “I was wrong about you.”
Søren said nothing for a minute, a minute that lasted an eternity. The silence felt like torture as the words hung in the air between them and taunted Wesley with the truth.
“Thank you, Wesley. I’m weighing whether or not to ask you what specifically you’re apologizing for or to simply accept the apology as a gift of grace.”
“I’ll tell you. I should tell you. I don’t want you thinking I like you or anything. I’m not saying I like you. You did shove me into a wall and hold me there by my throat, after all.”
“Yes, after you rushed at me fully intent on causing me bodily harm,” Søren reminded him. “Yes?”
“Okay, yes. You called me her puppy.”
“I’m a sadist, young man. You’re lucky I only put you into the wall. Anyone else I would have put in the hospital.”
“And that’s the reason,” Wesley conceded. “You didn’t put me in the hospital that day. And you didn’t put Nora in the hospital that day she went back to you.”
“Oh, I see...” Søren reached for his wineglass and seemed to notice it was empty. He put it back down again on the piano and stared at the empty cup a moment. “She told you what happened?”
Wesley slowly nodded. “She told me.”
“Eleanor, she plays dangerous games sometimes. She gets that from Kingsley. A few years ago she spent the night with him and they engaged in some breath-play. Erotic choking.”
“I know what it is. I lived with Nora.” Wesley felt his jaw tighten. The thought of Kingsley with his hands around Nora’s neck...
“Kingsley’s very good at this game. So is Eleanor. It’s not one I play often. A bit too dangerous even for me, especially for me. The temptation to go too far is ever-present. Not surprisingly that act can cause some light-headedness. She stood up too quickly after and fainted. She landed on her side on the hardwood floor. Only minor injuries resulted, thank God. A black eye, a bleeding lip, a bruised rib. Kingsley was deeply apologetic, although I wasn’t angry at him. It’s simply the risk we take.”
Wesley swallowed hard and kept his mouth shut, his lips a thin tight line. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet.
“That was the night she learned if she fell the right way she could give herself minor but visible injuries. The night she came back to me...”
“She hurt herself,” Wesley finally said.
“She did.”
“And you knew it wasn’t an accident?”
Søren nodded. “Eleanor is one of the most naturally graceful women on earth. I’ve known clumsier cats. It takes alcohol or exhaustion to make any sort of dent in that grace. We were doing nothing that night but the usual pain-play we both find enjoyable. I stepped away and she fell. And I knew the moment I looked at her exactly why she’d done it. She wanted to scare you away from her for your own good.”
“I wish she hadn’t done that.” Wesley rubbed at his face.
“You and I are in agreement. Let us pause and enjoy this rare moment of concord between us, Wesley.”