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“Here we go,” Michael mutters. “I need another fucking drink.”
Carson rushes over with the decanter, looking stressed out.
I’m still standing in Derek’s embrace, trembling along with him.
Grace is crying, Naomi’s crying, and Sabrina has sat down in the chair beside Naomi, has her arms wrapped around herself, and she’s staring at the fireplace, looking broken.
Elijah moves over and stands beside her, looking frazzled. Looking like he wants to comfort her but is afraid to touch her.
“I say we shouldn’t have the funeral at a cemetery out in the open and Elijah insists you won’t listen. Jonah calls you to talk about it and you sluff him off, too. So Ash nearly gets blown apart, then the whole fuckin’ place is being attacked and shit is on fire just five feet from my wife and my fucking sisters and still all you care about is what she would have wanted in terms of appearances. She’s gone, Dad. Bullshit ceremonies and fake receiving lines and fucking nonsense for the clicking shutters to make the press think we’re the perfect all-American one percent family? Why don’t you tell everyone to go the fuck home so we can help clean up Elijah’s mess and take out his fuckin’ enemies?”
“What is your fucking problem?” Michael retorts, full of venom. “You-”
Derek cuts him off. “What’s been my problem my whole life, man? Maybe your lack of giving a fuck has something to do with it. Probably figured the good doc was helping you weed that garden, huh? Too bad I shot him and came back.”
“Bro…” Ash mutters, shaking his head.
“You pick now to do this?” Michael snaps.
Derek seems manic. Unglued. And it’s scary. And upsetting. His father looks just as ready to lose it.
“Okay, I think we need to all take a minute,” Naomi’s husband says.
“Fuck that. Sick of shit not being said. Standing on ceremony. Used to say nothing, barely gave a fuck. All you wanted was to make her happy. Didn’t bother doing sweet fuck all about Thaddeus, let him and his bullshit stomp all over this family to keep the peace for her, but guess what? I do actually give a fuck, Dad. Shocks the shit out of me, but I do. Too bad you don’t.”
“I was told it was too late. That you were probably already dead,” Michael says, frowning.
Derek stares at his father with icy fury.
Michael sniffs and shakes his head, looking lost in thought as he keeps talking. “Wanted to throw every fucking dime I had at that situation to get you back. Cops said it was probably already too late. They found your blood in the limo and figured you were already gone, said your blood was on the ransom note too. That he was probably lying about you being alive. But it was too late. You were alive but you took matters into your own little hands and it fuckin’ ruined you.”
Derek’s mouth twists in a grimace.
Michael continues. “…to shoot that man in cold blood when you were just a child. If you hadn’t have killed him, son, I would have. I wanted to inflict pain on a dead man for years after that was over. But it was never over because you never looked at any of us the same after that. I felt like a fucking failure. It destroyed me and your mother. Nearly ended our marriage. Did you know that? Fucked up the entire family for years. Do you know what we went through for those long days and nights? Both your sisters bawling all day long for you. Thaddeus banging his own head against the walls in frustration crying out that his little brother is dead. And then we get you back and you were different. Completely different. You were already troubled after your mother’s mental health crisis and after the abduction…” He lets that hang.
“Too different, right? Ruined. You probably wished he took me out. Aren’t you glad I didn’t become an embarrassment like Thad?”
“Stop it,” Naomi weeps.
“But yet Thad would embarrass you repeatedly and you’d do nothing about it. Letting him terrorize most of the family in order to keep your wife happy. Pretend nothing was wrong. Because Thad knew how to hide his bullshit from Mom, didn’t he? But the rest of us saw it in glorious technicolor.”
I’m stuck, glued in place watching pain take over Derek’s features. Immense pain. His father wears the same pain.
Elijah and Jonah stare at their father with hard expressions, like they want the same answers Derek wants. Ash is pouring another drink.
“You didn’t hide it though, did you, Derek?” Michael asks. “You have any idea how much sleep you cost her? Cost me?”
“Aw, poor you, Dad. Fuck this. We’re leaving. I’m done with you.”
“Derek…” Grace tries.
“Derek wait,” Michael says as he rises slowly, with difficulty. He takes a big breath and clears the anger from his face. “Son, please don’t go. I’d really like it if my family would all stay under this roof tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow. About everything you want to talk about. But don’t go out there with this threat. I don’t… I’m asking you not to. Please. Stay.” His voice cracks. “Not because it’s what your mother would have wanted, it’s what I want. I don’t want you to be done with me. I want all of you here tonight. It’s what I need.” He clears his throat. “I need you all under this roof tonight. To know we’re all together. Safe. I know it’s a lot to ask. I’m sorry, but I’m asking anyway.”
Derek stares at his father who suddenly looks utterly broken.
“Please, son,” he tacks on.
Grace chokes on a sob. Asher hugs her.
