Like everything else she’s done since I got her out of the bathroom, she does it all without a word or noise.
Shock has probably set in.
Sighing, I look around the living room then back to her. It’s well into the evening now and I wonder when the last time she ate was.
“Sophia, would you like to eat anything?” I ask her.
Not responding to me, she just sits there.
Fuck.
A buzzing from the phone in my now very wet pants brings me out of the mode of just staring at her, willing her to do something.
Thank fuck we buy the good waterproof phones. Surprisingly, this isn’t my first time in a shower with one.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I’m going to fucking end your soul, little man. I swear to fuck I’ll eat every single fucking piece of it,” Johnathan snarls through the phone in a most unpleasant manner.
Well… I guess he’s not happy.
“Where you at?” I ask.
“Outside the front fucking door, dick-breath. You better fucking get here pronto or I’ll make little Mitzy a fucking orphan,” he growls again.
Staring at Sophia’s catatonic body for a moment, I try to figure out if there’s any risk of her leaving the chair. I end up determining it’s highly unlikely.
She didn’t even respond when I took the phone call.
Walking to the front door of the house, I internally debate on how long I should take before opening it up. I mean, honestly, everything that’s happened to me during the past seven months is this fucker’s fault.
Taking a deep, happy breath, I then look down at myself and sigh. Soaking wet suit pants. That’s all I’m wearing. Johnathan’s wife, Beth, will probably have an aneurism when he tells her what I look like, but it’s all I’ve got to go with right now.
Opening the door, I see the big burly motherfucker waiting in old jeans and a leather jacket. His big bushy beard and long hair completely soaked. He’s got scratches all over his face. And from the way he’s holding my poor Mitzy by the scruff of her neck, at arm’s length, I can see his hands also have bite marks all over them.
Really, he does deserve the pain.
But my poor Mitzy...
Taking my tiny Yorkie from his hands, I pull her into my arms and start murmuring calming words to her. “Poor baby, did Uncle John get in the way of your french fries?”
“I should have known you and Simon fucking set me up,” Johnathan snarls as he bends over and lifts up a gym bag.
He tosses the bag at my bare feet.
Nuzzling Mitzy on the top of her head, I feel her finally stop shaking long enough to lick my chin.
She loves her daddy.
“Any issues getting into the neighborhood?” I ask as I motion for him to come inside.
“Nah,” he says walking in. “Uriel found a good hole for me to slip through.”
I nod.
Then I tilt my head to the side and jerk my chin in Sophia’s direction while muttering quietly, “KISS.”
KISS is an old military term: Keep. It. Simple. Stupid.
He knows we have ears listening, even if she looks like she’s tuned out the whole world.
Peeking in on Sophia, he frowns and then looks at me with a very pointed question.
He can see her wet hair.
Shaking my head, I make a motion of showering, snapping a stick, and then of crying.
Nodding, he says, “I’ve got the phone. The laptop will be brought in tomorrow by Uriel.”
“Good, I need to get to work. I’ll be trying to do an evac tomorrow, if at all possible,” I say and then give another slight head tilt to Sophia.
“Where to?” Johnathan asks.
“Mine. It’s secure and there’s enough space surrounding it for me to see anyone deciding to drive up to my doorstep,” I say and take the bag from him.
“She ate yet?” Johnathan asks.
“Going to see what I can do about that,” I say.
“Good. Beth said she wasn’t able to get much down her throat these last couple of days,” he says before taking another look in on her.
Shaking his head, he turns back to me and points a finger. “Your dog should be put down.”
Flipping him the bird, I motion him to the door. “Get out. You’ve already upset one of my girls.”
Grumbling at me as he shoulders me out of his way, he warns, “Don’t fuck up here. Beth will have me kill you.”
“Yeah, if I don’t hit you first.” I smirk.
Shutting the door behind Johnathan, I murmur down to Mitzy, “I’m sorry, baby. Was that bad man scaring you?”
Nuzzling her little head, I walk us into the living room where Sophia and Fluffers still sit on the old recliner, both burrowed deep into the chair.
I have no clue what to do here.
I fucked my way through any grief I’ve ever had. If it had a pulse and could dance, I fucked the shit out of it.