Page 91 of Requiem

“How much he looks like you.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“He has your eyes. And the way his brows arch, that’s all you. Your chin, too. When he was born, he looked more like me. But as he gets older, he looks more and more like his father.”

Jeremy doesn’t respond, he just slips off the stool he’s been occupying, and gets some ice from the freezer.

“It makes Matthew crazy,” I murmur, as if to myself, but loud enough for him to hear.

When he turns around, there’s a half smirk on his face. Well that certainly got his attention.

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does,” he snorts as he pours more liquor over the ice.

“I …” I trail off and pretend to try again. “I kind of like it.”

Another snort. He takes a sip, all the while looking at me as if I’m full of crap.

“No, really,” I say sincerely. “I was afraid, because I’m so … plain looking. But now I think he’s going to be an incredibly handsome man. A redheaded version of you.”

Jeremy puts the glass down on the counter hard and comes to stand in front of me. Shit. Have I pushed too far, too fast? I guess we’re about to find out.

“What are you trying to do here, Jules?”

I shrug as best I can without use of my hands.

“It’s not anything I can say to anyone else, Jeremy. No one else knows about you being his father. And the people who do know, would be horrified to hear … to hear how I really feel.”

“And how is it that you feel, Jules?” he mocks.

“Like … I’m glad. I’m glad he’s your son. I’m glad he looks like you. I hope he grows up to be as talented and smart as you.” The words come out of me in such a rush that, suddenly, I’m not so sure they’re just words anymore. I keep going before I can think about it too much. “A small part of me wishes that things had been different with us,” I profess, looking down at my lap as I feel my face coloring scarlet.

He has no comment, just returns to his spot on the stool and spins it around so he has a view of the lights out in Port Jefferson harbor. We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask at last.

He swivels back around to face me, one eyebrow cocked in surprise.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” I continue. “I’m not going to fight you, Jeremy. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“Well that’s quite an attitude adjustment.”

“Maybe, but now that I’m past the initial shock of … all this … I realize that I’m better to my son alive than dead. I’m not going to give you any reason to hurt me. I swear to you.”

He leans forward and, for a split second, I think he’s happy with my acquiescence. I know better as soon as his mouth twists up again.

“Oh, Jules,” he whispers, shaking his head at me pityingly. “Is that what you think? That if you behave yourself, I won’t hurt you? That I won’t kill you? You’re not getting this, you stupid girl. It’s not about me hurting you because it makes me feel good – although it does – it’s about me hurting Matthew. And the best way to hurt Matthew, is to hurt you.”

That’s when the reality of this situation dawns on me with crushing certainty. I’m not going to live through this night if Jeremy Corrigan has his way. I must look incredibly alarmed suddenly, because he makes a concerted effort to soften his tone a little. Not, I’m sure, because he wants to comfort me, but because he doesn’t want to spook me into doing something desperate and making his job harder.

“That being said, if you do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, then you might just spare yourself a little grief.”

I nod, as if to indicate my acceptance of his terms.

“Although,” he continues, getting up and going back to the fridge again, “I don’t think you’re going to like what I have in mind for you.”

I see him pluck something out from under a magnet. He comes back to stand in front of me, holding the small card close so I can see what it is.

Oh, no. God, no. Please. No, no, no!