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Gosh, I can’t believe it! What is Dad up to?
As the reality sinks in, I find a newfound determination rising within me. I won’t let my father’s misplaced allegiance, or fear, whichever it may be, dictate the course of my life. Especially if he is hiding something from me, and from what Alex is saying, he definitely is.
My throat feels tight, my pulse picking up as adrenaline dumps into my veins. “I won’t ask you what this reason is, but…it’s something big, isn’t it?”
Alex pats me on the shoulder before letting go. “Yeah, man, it is pretty big.”
With a renewed sense of purpose, I nod once at him, gratitude etched upon my face. “Thank you, Alex. You’ve opened my eyes.”
He gives me a knowing smile. “No problem, Seb. I want the best for my sister, but for you, too. No matter what my mother says, I think the two of you are a brilliant match. I’ll save the whole ‘don’t mess with my sister’ speech since I think you’re going through enough shit as it is, but I assume it’s already pretty evident. Treat Julia right.”
His words resonate within me, fueling a fire that burns brighter than ever. I am resolved to confront my father, gently but refusing to back down without knowing the truth. Julia and I deserve a chance at happiness. I, my father’s son, the one who stepped up to run his company, the one who lost just as many family members as he did…I deserve a chance at happiness, and he needs to let me have it.
“I guess we should catch up with everyone, huh?” I offer, and Alex makes a noise of agreement.
We set off at a faster pace, our talk over, and both of us ready to finish the hunt strong. Once this is done, I will face an even larger challenge. Facing my father, and finding out the truth.
***
I step through the grand entrance of my home estate, the weight of the day’s events heavy on my shoulders. At first, my head is buzzing with exhaustion from the day spent trekking through the forest, but it isn’t long until something musical catches my attention.
The resonant strains of an opera float through the air, echoing in the hallways, just loud enough that I can pinpoint where they are coming from: the library.
I have a bad feeling about this. I head in that direction, and as I grow closer, the familiar scent of cigar smoke greets me, mingling with the aroma of aged leather and mahogany that permeates the library.
There, in the sitting area amidst all the books, my father sits ensconced in a plush armchair, a crystal decanter of amber liquid within easy reach. The flickering glow of the fireplace casts a warm red-orange light upon his face, revealing the lines etched deep. Just months earlier, those lines wouldn’t have been there. They’re new, just like the cane that rests beside him, and the pallor of his skin.
Despite how alarmingly weak he appears, he seems to be having a good time. Dad is surrounded by a small gathering of friends, their laughter and conversation reverberating through the space, all of them either drinking or smoking fat Cuban cigars.
My eyes settle upon the scene, and my heart clenches with concern. Caught in this act of indulgence, I cannot help but question the choices he has made, the disregard for his own well-being. A man that has just gotten out of the hospital, a man suffering from heart failure, should not be fucking drinking and smoking cigars!
“I thought the doctor asked you to stop all the smoking and drinking?” The words tumble from my lips, cut through with an undercurrent of disbelief. “What kind of fuckery is this, Dad? I go and enjoy myself for one single day and you’re at home breaking every single rule that the doctor has laid out for you? Where the hell is your nurse?”
“I dismissed her for the night.” Dad waves his hand dismissively, and his friends laugh. I see red.
“Bullshit!” I yell, fists clenching. “Do you feel good now, Dad? Fucking around with your health while I spend the majority of my time worrying about you?”
The room falls silent, the jovial ambiance shattered by the weight of my reproach. My father’s gaze meets mine, his eyes glinting with a mix of defiance and resignation. Sensing the gravity of the moment, he dismisses his friends with another wave of his hand, their presence fading out of the library door until it is just him and me. Pulse pounding in my temples, I grab a full glass of scotch from one of the side tables, wipe the rim of it with the hem of my shirt, and throw the entirety of it down my throat. I don’t care who it was meant for–-I need it more.
Now that we’re alone, he leans back in his chair, the flickering light casting shadows upon his face. “Sebastian, my son,” he begins, already so weary that it makes guilt flare in me, unwelcome. “Sometimes, we find solace in our vices, seeking temporary relief from our burdens, you know?”
“Dad,” I force out. “Enough with the waxing poetry. You’re in the wrong here, and you know it.”
He laughs hollowly. “I will die soon, anyway. At least let me enjoy my last days on earth, Seb.”
I feel a mixture of frustration and compassion welling within me. The doctor’s warnings, the fragility of my father’s health, all collide with the realization that his actions stem from a deeper turmoil—a desperate attempt to retain a sense of control, to preserve the vestiges of a fading power.
I hate what he’s saying. It makes a pit open up in my stomach….and I’m afraid of the amount of truth in it.
Unable to face how miserable all of this makes me, I go on the offensive. “If you’re going to die soon, then why did you bother with asking me to break up with Julia?”
Surprise flickers across my father’s face, a brief moment of vulnerability betraying his well-guarded facade. “You spoke to her, then?”
“I spoke to her brother, Alex, at the hunt,” I reply curtly. I find the seat across from him and sink down into it, reaching for the carafe of scotch and filling an empty glass as I begin my interrogation. “So, what do the Van Dierens know that I don’t?”
My father denies it at first, dancing around the truth. “You’re going to have to elaborate, son. I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
I’m so tired of his lying, and the way he keeps me in the dark just to protect his pride. “I think you do know, Dad, and you just don’t want to tell me, so knock it off.”
