THE DEVIL'S AFFECTION

22. ALL I HAVE LEFT

{a few days later}

        I LAY back in bed, listening to a song I rediscovered about an hour ago. It was my mother's favourite song — There She Goes by The La's.

She and my father would play this on days when we drove to the ocean. It was far away but we all loved the beach so much that on the hottest days, we'd drive nearly two hours to get there.

She always wore this beautiful cream-coloured summer dress that had this nice white lace at the bottom. She didn't even lift it up when she would walk around in the water. She let it soak in the salt.

My father always liked to sit on a fold out chair and watch us enjoy the day. He was afraid of water, I think. His older sister and him were playing in a pool one summer when he was young. She was much bigger than him at the time. They were play-fighting and she jumped on him, pushing him under. She stayed on top of him a little too long and by the time she got off, he was fighting for his last breath.

After that, he told me, he never felt quite safe in the water. He even worried about introducing me into the water but my mother was like a fish, he'd say, — always the last to leave the beach at the end of the day.

I took after her. I loved the water and I loved swimming with her.

As I lay listening for the thousandth time, thinking over the memories of my parents and I on those lovely days, I see Hanes come in the door from the corner of my eye.

I sit up and take my earbuds out.

"You're back awfully early." I observe.

"I've decided to take the night off... I want to spend it with you." He says as he walks over to the dresser and takes his tie off in the mirror.

I'm slightly confused. I know he likes me to some extent but the reason why he could never have an actual relationship is because of his business. So why would he choose me over his work for a night?

"Oh, well... that's... that's nice." I feel so stupid. I don't know how to respond.

He shrugs and raises his eyebrows. "It's not so sweet. Truthfully, I've had a frustrating day and I think the best way to get rid of my frustration is to not think about it. So, let's go get some dinner, shall we?"

There he goes sabotaging the sweetness of it all.

"Right." I nod. "I'll just get dressed."

          INSTEAD OF going out to eat, we went down to the nice Italian restaurant that's built off of the hotel. The second we were sat down, Hanes ordered a bottle of red wine and we both got pasta, since he felt it was a crime to get anything else. I think he just really likes pasta.

"Go on," he takes a sip of his wine.

I'm confused by his statement. We weren't having a conversation.

"Go on?" I question.

"Distract me. I need you to be my distraction for the night. So... go on."

"Oh," I didn't realize I'd have to entertain in this way. Usually, the men I go out with want me to listen to them talk about themselves, rarely the other way around. That is, unless they want to hear about why I became an escort. Everyone always seems so interested in that story and never any other. But I guess, as I've learned, Hanes is different from those other men.

"Well, I don't really know what to do..."

He sighs, frustrated with my lack of skill in entertaining. "Start by telling me your day. Anything, please."

"Okay. I woke up, watched some TV, scrolled through my phone... kind of repeated that all day." I wish I had something more interesting to share. "Oh, I did take some pictures of the hotel room with the camera. The sun was coming in just right at 3. Hm... oh, I was scrolling through some music and rediscovered my mother's favourite song. I listened to it for hours."

"What's her favourite song." I can tell this is his attempt at being interested in my boring day. Perhaps he's trying to find something interesting within it.

"There She Goes by The La's."

"Ugh," he nearly cringes. "I hate that song. My sister used to play it non-stop in our room."

"Oh..." I look down, strangely feeling some offence in his disliking of the song. It's as if he just said that he hates my mother. I guess that's as good as saying so these days. She only exists in my memory now; right where that song resides.

I think he can see the pain on my face.

"I'm sorry... I know your parents are... ehem... a sensitive topic... or..." he starts out strong but then falls a bit worried by the end.

As horrible of a reply as that was, I can appreciate his... worry?

"It just reminds me of them — of good memories. I think some of my best were when that song was playing."

"What were those memories of?" He questions, resting his cheek on his fist, showing a bit of his boredom but also his longing for interest.

"Ones where we were at the beach. Like one day, my parents took me to the ocean and my mother and I ran into the water the second we got there! The sand was too hot beneath our feet and the only way to cool them off was to run right into the water; so that's what we did. My dad always said we were being silly by running so quick since he always just walked over and put his little red foldable-chair over by the shoreline. It always felt fun to run to it though. My mom and I would dive in and it felt like it was just the three of us in the world."

My heart feels a little heavier after telling that story. I don't think I've ever really vocalized it to anyone before.

"So you get your love for swimming from your mother?"

I nod and smile weakly. "Yeah, I do. I guess that's why I find it so calming. It reminds me of those days when I felt safe... happy."

He looks down at his plate. He seems to have something on his mind.

"Doesn't it make you sad... to think about these things?" He looks up at me.

I mean, it should, shouldn't it? I guess it does make me sad. But something within that sadness reminds me that they were real. They actually were here at one point. I'm lucky to have these memories of them.

"Yea, I guess it does."

"So why do you do it anymore? Why do it if it just brings back that pain?"

I shrug, "I guess it's because the pain is all I really have left of them. All I have are the memories and the pain of knowing they're gone."

He furrows his brows, seemingly trying to understand what I mean.

"Have you ever lost someone?" I ask.

He sighs. "Would you like another glass of wine?"