I didn’t really see it until he was gone.
When I finish, I pad around in my towel cooking a sad dinner for myself. I check my phone as I eat. Holden is texting and asking when I will show up at the estate. I figure I’ll drive down there instead of flying. I tell him that, and he still tries to strike a conversation, so I block his number momentarily. He always has to be the one to fix things, to figure things out and help everyone.
I’m beyond being helped, and this is beyond fixing.
* * *
“I thought I’d find you here.” Mom. Her voice comes over me. I didn’t hear her enter the room.
“Yeah.” I gruff, my voice quiet. I’ve sounded the same for a long time, my voice never hitting a different level. I don’t have it in me to sound any different.
“I almost thought you weren’t coming.” She stands in front of me, in front of the balcony overlooking the side garden. The patio coming off Dad’s office has the best view of the entire estate, it does that on purpose.
I guzzle down my scotch and squint through the burn in my throat as I look at Mom for the first time. She’s wearing black jeans, a forest green blouse, and a warm smile. I don’t know how she manages to keep smiling. When I see her, I think of Dad, so how must she feel?
“Of course, I came,” I lie. I was forced to by the moral compass I was raised with. I made it to the twenty-third before I drove down arriving here on Christmas Eve. It’s past the evening, so I know the family is probably all down in the great room having a grand time.
“Why are you hiding?” She sits on the edge of the chair in front of me. The outdoor furniture is dark iron with black cushions. It matches the interior of his office.
“I’m not.” I fake a smile at her, but she sees through it anyway. She always can.
“Dylan, I don’t like seeing you like this. It’s… it’s been three years.” Her hand covers mine on the table. I squeeze her back but don’t respond to her. She sighs and looks past the railing to the circular pond and landscape below us.
“Your brothers worry about you. I’m sure if you told them, they would understand.”
“You can’t tell them,” I remind her. She is the only one who knows about it.
“I’ll keep your secret…” She smiles again, “… but you have to try and be nice.”
That makes me smile.
“Sure, Mom.”
She pats my hand and leans away. I pour another drink from the decanter for both of us. We drink at the same time, and she makes a face.
“You know I hate hard liquor.” She coughs, and it makes me chuckle at her.
“Scotch was Dad’s favorite. He always had it in his office. Here.”
“Yes, it was.”
We go silent. I feel her looking at me, through me. She is the only one who can do that so easily. I’m sure she figures everything out in a heartbeat. I’m not ignorant of my issues either. I know I’m self-loathing, the picture definition of it. Stuck in the ghosts of my past, what I think I did wrong but probably wasn’t wrong at all. Regret. And trying to escape… whatever it is I want to get away from, I’m at an impasse with myself.
“Did Gretchen come?” I ask her, changing the subject.
“No,” she sighs. “Something about patients, but that’s what Jeffrey said. He has patients, too. He just left actually.”
I nod. Gretchen and Jeffrey have been married for over ten years. They’re both surgeons. Gretchen is a neurosurgeon, and Jeffrey is an orthopedic surgeon but moonlights as a ground-breaking researcher. I don’t listen when he talks, but he’s working on something big. He and his wife are a different story that I don’t care to read about.
“Do you think they’ll split up?” I ask her, curious to hear what she has to say. And also, to keep her from asking about me.
“I don’t know. Marriage is hard.” She traces her palm and tilts her head at me.
“You and Dad seemed pretty good at it.” I lean across the table at her as the wind blows her scent in my direction. She’s smelled the same my whole life—lilac and fresh linen and berries. All my memories come with it—hugs goodnight, cuddles when I was younger, hugs when I got older and when I was sad. And recently, when it reminds me of the life I used to live.
“We were. But, we had our moments. It was right before you were born. We didn’t speak for almost two years, and that’s when—”
“Alec.” I finish for her. She nods, swallows hard. Her soft, always smooth features wrinkle up.
“Yes, Alec. His… I met his father at a conference your father dragged me to. We didn’t talk the whole night. I was lonely, and—” she breaks off, and I realize what she’s telling me.
“Mom, you don’t have to—”
She stops me. I know it’s because of what I said to her a few months ago, the anniversary of Dad’s death. I said something about Alec, and what happened—something regretful. I’ve tried my hand at hurting people, but I don’t think I’ve ever hurt Mom that way.
“I know, just listen.” She moves to sit next to me and rests against my arm. “I was lonely. I was… he paid attention to me, and no one else had for a while including your father. It was once, it… could have ruined our marriage. But it didn’t. Your dad and I made amends and raised Alec, and it reminded me, or taught me, that our mistakes only change what we allow them to. We rekindled, your dad and I, and it made us stronger for it. Obviously, since we had more kids. He never complained about raising Alec as his own either.”
“That’s because he was a good man,” I scoff, the fact is obvious.
Mom snickers once. “I know. You are, too.” She leans back and smooths over my hair. She’s the only one I’d allow to do that. It falls behind my ear and brushes the collar of my shirt.
“Maybe. I used to be.”
“Your dad’s death wasn’t your fault, Dylan. It could have been anyone.” She tucks my hair behind my ear and pats my shoulder.
“Thanks, Mom.”
I smile at her. We lean back and don’t say anything for a while. If it were anyone else, I don’t think I would be this social. I don’t know if—I have an urge to ask her about Forbes, but I don’t. For all I know, it’s a grudge from a woman I barely know. There are enough of those to go around.
“You didn’t answer me, though, about Jeffrey and Gretchen,” I tell her.
She laughs.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t even there for the wedding, and sometimes I forget. I’ve met her maybe three times in the years they have been together.”
I grin. So have I and probably everyone else.
“But I hope they do. Jeffrey might be a happier person. Will you be a bachelor for the rest of your life?” She pokes my ribs.
I laugh then. “Looks like it.”
I don’t hide out for the entire holiday. Christmas dinner is cooked by Mom and those who volunteered to help. I even spend time with the little ones—babies don’t try to irritate you by striking a conversation. I like Timothy because he’s quiet. But Malia, she screams a lot. And Mia is already pregnant again, and Alec gets more domesticated by the minute.
I dodge Emily because I know she will ask about Forbes. I fail.
She corners me in my bedroom, and there is no getting rid of her until I give her what she wants.
“I have no idea what happened. I wasn’t sated in the company at that time.” I keep from yelling.
She frowns, crossing her arms over her red dress. Very festive.
“You can be mean, though. Are you sure you didn’t say something to her?”
I sit on my bed and glare at her. “No, I didn’t. And I wasn’t mean. Back then.”
She plops on the edge of my bed, and I groan.
“You were. Every time I came over with Carson, you called me Wendy Wu Homecoming Warrior. You can be real mean.”
I laugh at that memory.
“Yes, and that was then. But I would and could never say anything to make her that angry.” I don’t tell her what she said to me in the
stairwell, but I have fallen asleep with the memory every night trying to figure out what it was.
“Whatever.” She stands. “Are you flying back with us tonight?” Her hands go to her hips as she looks down at me.
“No.” I drove my car up here. Unlike my brothers, one car is enough for me, so I kind of need it.
“Okay, Carson was asking.” She shrugs.
I laugh. “I was right about you two. We all were.”
She rolls her eyes and starts to leave.
“Wait, at least give me credit.”
She makes a face at me.
“Fine. Credit due, but don’t get all excited. It’s not like we’re married…” she trails off.
“Because Carson doesn’t want to get married. Ever. You know that, right?” I don’t say it to hurt her, but by the drop in her face, it does.
Emily clears her throat. “I know that. We were friends since we were six, so I know.” She fiddles with the end of her dress.
“Okay then.” I laugh.
She flips me off before she leaves the room. I laugh to myself and pick up my book to finish reading. There are no more family events we’re obliged to do, and most everyone has left.
Work starts back on Monday for some of us due to the merger, and I’m not sure how to get back into the routine. I wanted to take time off, but the least I can do is keep things afloat at the company during the merger negotiations. Not in an obligation to Dad or something but because I like working there. It’s hard sometimes, especially in his office, now Holden’s office.
But I have to push through it to make things work. Mom and I talked more, and things are more in perspective now for me. And Forbes… she isn’t a distant memory yet. And she might not be. I dislike her but not as much as she does me, that much is obvious. I don’t know her or anything about her, and I’ve got no reason to care.
It’s not a shocker that I do care anyway.
6
Forbes
I don’t even know why I do this, to fit into clothes well or be healthy.
Health is important especially for someone like me.
And I’m not inclined to do cardio, so this is the best thing for me. Emily talked me into it years ago in college when Carson stopped going to the free yoga classes at the rec with her. I used to feel like second best, the ‘B team’ for her, but I get that she already has that one good friend. We’re only closer now because they are now a couple, and I get that, but I’m not mad about it or anything. I’m a loner. The only friends I had growing up stuck around because guys flocked to my beauty, and the girls I hung around with fed off it.
When I got older and realized that was the case, I caught on and started keeping to myself. For some reason, Emily is the one who drags me out of my cave. It used to be Saturday for this yoga class she teaches. Now she has managed to drag me to parties and social events—not my forte.
“What do you say we grab some lunch?” Emily hops next to me at the locker.
I snort, rolling up my mat and tying it to my bag.
“Okay.” I sigh, feeling tired.
I have been feeling weird since the charity ball where I saw Dylan. It was easier to dislike him when I hadn’t seen him in a while—up close and personal, dashing and irritatingly charming. He has no idea what he did. It’s worse than forgetting he never acknowledged it.
“What’s wrong? Did you take—”
“Yes, I did.” I turn to her, smiling. We’re the same height, and her eyes twinkle as she grins back at me.
“Just checking,” she sings, shrugging her shoulders. Her yoga outfits are always bright and cheery. Today it’s bright yellow with black stripes under the bra and down the side.
I’m dressed similarly in black yoga pants and a matching black bra. I adjust the thin straps before I put my shirt back on—plain white that is almost see-through. Her shirt is bright yellow, matching the rest of her.
“You look like PBS Kids,” I murmur, throwing my bag over my shoulder.
She laughs, following me as we walk out.
“You could add more color to your life.” She calls over her shoulder.
My apartment is right down the block, so I always walk to the studio. She drove here. Her Beetle is parked at the curb. Emily drops her bag in the trunk and skips to her door, literally skips. I smile inwardly, but my mind is clouded by my thoughts.
I spent Christmas alone which hasn’t been a change in the past few years. Emily wanted me to come with her to the Christmas party at Carson’s place, but I have had my share of Dylan for a lifetime. So, I spent it alone with takeout, and bought myself way too much at the mall. It was enough for me, but the routine is starting to get old. Dylan used to be an absent figure I could blame and hate for every bad thing that has happened since my dad died and even before. Now, after seeing him and what he said, he exists, and he hasn’t left my conscience since.
“Forbes, you coming?” Emily shouts over the roof of the car.
I stand on the sidewalk, my bag slipping down my shoulder as I stare at her. I must have drifted off in my head.
“I’m pretty tired. I might take a nap.” I nod to my apartment building up ahead.
“Aw.” She tilts her head and makes a face at me. “We can make something at your place.”
“I don’t have food.” I smile a bit.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Okay, I get it.”
“Wh—”
“You want to be left alone. I get it.”
I smile and come around the car to stand in front of her.
“I don’t,” I lie, mostly. I don’t mind being around Emily. She’s a good friend and good company.
“Today is weird. I’m in a funk.” I shrug, trying to smile at her.
“Okay, I understand. Well, call me if you maybe want to grab dinner or something.”
I agree with her. We hug goodbye, and then I get going. I’m home in a few minutes. My loft is on the top floor. It’s kind of like a studio. The bedroom is raised on a platform behind a partial wall I decorated with abstract art. Grays and browns, my color scheme, extend from the living room to the bedroom. My couch is a huge sectional, L-shaped and takes up the entire living room with my entertainment system right in front. The kitchen is right behind, open concept with a breakfast table right in the center, the stainless-steel appliances line the wall behind it. My fridge is huge and always empty. I go straight to my bathroom which is behind the bedroom wall to take a hot shower. I hamper my clothes in the linen closet and spend extra time in the stand-up shower.
When I get out, foraging for food, I realize I didn’t have much food. I hate grocery shopping—it’s tedious. But I do find some peanut butter and bread for a grade-school-worthy lunch. My weekends always stay free. I planned to spend today with television and takeout dinner from somewhere. I might take Emily up on her dinner offer. With only a few days until New Years, I know she will be leaving with Carson again soon. I’ll be here watching the ball drop on my couch.
Around four, my phone rings. When I see it isn’t Emily, I groan thinking it must be work.
“Hello?” I sit up from where I laid on my bed to answer.
“Ms. Walters, hello, this is Reed Kelly.”
“Who?” I squeak and clear my throat.
“Reed Kelly, family estate lawyer.” He clears up.
I think for a moment and then faintly remember him along with the same sinking feeling that came the first time we met. When my dad died, and I needed help with managing everything he left behind, I called the lawyer with the highest rating on Yelp. I only have my scraping six-figure job. I didn’t need to save.
“Oh, hi. What made you call?” I swallow, the cold in my chest not going away.
“I needed to follow up with you about your father’s will. You haven’t resolved a few things. The medical bills are one of them, but his life insurance can take care of that, so I was hoping to set up a meeting and get this settled.”
I exhale all at once. I was expecting somet
hing worse, something bad that would match my predisposition for bad luck.
“Oh. Sure. I thought the bills had been settled with the hospital.”
“Yes, for your transplant. But since it was a private-direct donation, his bills went into collections as soon as he passed, which went right to—”
“Yeah, I get it. I can meet with you next week.”
“My office is closed until after the holiday, but it isn’t urgent. So, we can meet then.” I hear his smile. His voice is way too cheery for someone who spends their days dealing with passed family members.
“Okay…” I trail off.
“I hope I didn’t alarm you. It isn’t a problem.” He chuckles.
“I know. Just a surprise is all.” I thought I was done with this.
“I understand. Let me know if you have any questions. You can reach me by my cell.”
“Thank you… um, what’s the amount that still needs to be settled?” I ask, and almost wish I didn’t when he answers.
I should have known—transplant surgeries are no joke. And every time I think about what Dad did, I feel sick and grateful all at the same time because my dad did what most people wouldn’t. What most parents wouldn’t. He was forced to by…
“Thank you. I’ll give you a call after the holiday.” I hang up before I hear his response.
I’m not sure what kind of response I could even formulate. I thought this was all behind me, that I would never have to think about it again.
My dad is gone, too early and way too soon, unfairly. I still don’t know if it’s worse that I don’t know why, but that I do know how.
* * *
“I knew you would give in.” Emily sets out the takeout wings and fries she brought.
“I didn’t have food.” I shrug like I wasn’t desperate to call her. It’s late, almost eleven. But she still came.
“Yeah, right. You’re lucky, too, I had finished… never mind.” She giggles and curls up on the chair next to me.
I frown at her, all cheery in her gray hoodie that is obviously Carson’s and know exactly what she finished doing.
Wilde About Dylon: The Brothers Wilde Series — Book Four Page 4
