A/N: Yay! More reviews! Hugs for all!!!
Ok, this chapter is gonna be a little boring. It will get interesting after this though!
'He's your father?' I questioned quietly as though it were a statement more than a question.
Lydia had offered to escort me back to the dojo, claiming it was not safe at night and she also, wanted fresh air which was not a privilege if you stayed at the bar for too long. I had accepted, however, reluctantly.
My thoughts were still with the office and the cold, grey eyes of Jabez. Every now and then the rising sun would reflect on the crucifix for me to admire it further. Immediately after Jabez had taken his staff back from Lydia, he announced that he had completed his 'mission' and stated that it was time to leave. So I had, Lydia along with me.
Lydia nodded slowly. My thoughts were near enough empty before now – shock with the meeting and the beauty of the sterling silver crucifix around my neck numbed my thoughts like ice. However, now it was a desire to ask many questions – never before had my curiosity been so great.
I wanted to ask her, if her father was such a righteous man, why he would allow such obscene acts occur in his bar and the Black Room? Though, I thought that to be rude and in the back of my mind I knew it would be better if I didn't know. I remained silent.
However, again Lydia appeared to know in which field my train of though lay. That or she was desperate to tell someone what's been happening in her family for, what could be, generations.
'That bar has been in the family for ages,' she explained. 'My father owns it now, his father before him; his father before him and my brother John is to be next.' She paused. 'My father is a fundamentalist Christian and does believe women to be important, but he does regard them as the weaker sex. Anyway my Grandfather Takeo was into all that stuff the fools were into in the Black Room. But there was no Black Room in them days. Anything to do with drugs or alcohol would be done anywhere. The bar, the room that is now the Black Room, the office - even the streets outside.'
We stopped for a moment. I looked behind me. We were outside the dojo and everything was still. The sun was rising, casting a line of fire on the horizon. It seemed to me that Lydia was taking the scene in and had completely abandoned the story altogether.
After a short while, she gathered her senses and shook her head.
'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'Got a bit caught up there.' She smiled. 'Anyway, after Takeo had owned the bar for about four or three years he met my Grandmother. She was a missionary of some sort from a rough area in New York. Like Takeo, she had a bad background. Her parents were alcohol abusers and died young. Well, after they met they married and she vowed to help him overcome his addiction. He did very well too – but he died one night at the bar – overdose or something like that. My father and one of his brothers were with him at the time, father must have been about twelve. I don't think he's ever gotten over it.'
Lydia coughed. There was a slight chill in the air around us.
'Damn cold,' she muttered. 'Well, after that my Grandmother just tried to do her best with the customers at the bar and help run it with her brother-in-law, while my father was still a child.' She continued. 'She just imposed her religious beliefs upon my father and his two brothers. Only my father took it seriously though. One brother worked in tourism and married twice, I think. He died in some accident. The other worked in Beyblading. I don't know what happened to him though.'
Lydia sighed. 'Mind you my father wasn't perfect either. He fell slave to those drugs at the bar, when it came into his possession. It took him the best part of two years to get out of it. That was how I was born though.' She glanced at me. Seemingly longing for my reaction. 'Whoever gave birth to me handed me back over to my father. I don't know who she was. I might have met her at the bar for all I know.'
Lydia stopped. She looked deep into my eyes – probably hoping to see what I thought. I noticed, there was something in her sapphire eyes that tried to tell me something. I was disappointed in her a little. Did she expect sympathy? Did she want pity? Or someone to hold her while she cried? If that was what she wanted I couldn't give it to her – but I was sure there was someone who could. It was just not me.
I hoped this would end soon. I may not have been able to offer her pity but I didn't want to hurt her, and as uncomfortable as this was, it did seem rather flattering that she wanted to tell me whatever the troubles were in her life. I just wished she knew that I wasn't good with that type of thing.
Thankfully, Lydia continued.
'Father eventually married himself. I was six.' A small smile appeared on her face. 'She left though, after John was born. It wasn't unexpected; she didn't like his attitude towards women. She was a bit of a feminist – their relationship was doomed to begin with.
'I guess what was the last straw for her was the amount of effort he put into naming John. For me, he just picked any old name from his Bible, but for John it was different. He was a son, you see.' She stopped, allowing me time to think.
I certainly did see. It was obvious where it was heading - people with a narrow mind are generally predictable. However, I didn't want to stand there looking like a half-wit so I asked any question that would get her talking again.
'So, why did he call him John then,' I asked dully. I knew Lydia knew I wasn't interested but she obviously didn't care. Maybe she was one of those annoying people who loved the sound of their own voice and it annoys you to no end. Eventually you end up axe-murdering them just to shut them up. Anyway, it was a good reason to remain outside for a little while. It was good enough for me, I thought.
Smiling a little, she continued with her never-ending story:
'Father devoted his life entirely to help people from their addiction,' she began. 'He issued the bar with new, but strict, rules. Made the old pool room into the Black Room. Eventually, citizens without drug problems could enter. For anyone it would look like a normal bar with the addicts in the Black Room.' She paused for a moment.
'It may not seem it,' she said. 'But those people in the Black Room are trying to get better. It took my father over a month to find the right passage...' Lydia stopped and gazed longingly into the deep blue sky.
'Jesus replied, "I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever.
So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
John, Chapter eight, 34:36.'
Lydia finished reciting and looked at me again, her eyes slightly glazed. I was deep in thought.
'Get it?' She said her voice quiet and distant.
'I think so,' I replied unsurely.
'John is eleven years old,' she sighed. 'He is, like most children, obsessed with Beyblading. He doesn't care much about anyone but his friends and family. But what else would you expect of an eleven year old? Though he does care enough to say a prayer at night.'
After a brief pause she continued. 'John is a son of a broken marriage. One that God clearly wanted to happen, but not to last. It was a lesson for my father and I was the only one to learn it. Is it clearer now?' Lydia questioned, smirking slightly, her eyebrows raised.
'Correct passage but the 'son' part taken a bit too seriously?' I replied dully, looking into the distance.
Lydia smiled broadly, her eyes lit. 'You're very clever Kai.' She laughed softly.
'It was obvious,' I said coldly. My eyes diverted from the distant sky to the dojo which was glowing with sunlight, as though it called to me. I took a mental picture of the scene so I could remember the beauty of the dawn.
'All right then,' Lydia said as coldly as I had. 'Go in. I'll see you around.' She turned her head toward the direction she would be leaving.
'I hope,' she added. She then turned on her heel and left quickly.
'Whatever,' I mumbled under my breath and I ventured toward the glowing building where my team were beginning to wake.