by Jerry Cole
“Yes, but what’s the catch?”
“There is no catch,” my father grumbled.
My mother patted his hand, an action that would mean nothing to most people but was very telling in this family. The Dunlevys weren’t the touchy-feely type. In fact, I was shocked that Evangeline was ever born. I was sure for several months that she had to be the pool boy’s baby. How else could she be spared the fate of red hair and alabaster skin?
“Why now?”
“BECAUSE NOW IS THE TIME FOR YOU TO GROW UP!!” My father pounded the table with his fist in an uncharacteristic show of temper.
“Level with me,” I leaned forward in my chair. “Just perusing this, it looks like you’re not giving me much of anything. You’re transferring a whole lot of responsibilities to me but keeping veto power.”
“We have to make sure there’s something left for your sister,” my mother said patiently.
“Evangeline?”
“Yes, I don’t want you ruining everything I’ve worked so hard to build,” my father barked.
“Right. So why don’t you just keep doing what you’ve been doing? You run the show and send me off on errands to manage the minor projects.”
“As I said, we aren’t getting younger, Patrick. We have to face some realities,” my mother explained.
“Yeah right, I’m not buying it.”
“Just tell him,” my father said, looking at my mother with a tenderness that made my heart sink. Whatever it was it was bad. I watched him grasp the hand that she’d rested on the back of his only a moment ago and squeeze it tenderly. They exchanged a look that was as fierce as it was heated. I don’t ever remember seeing them look at each other that way.
“Your father is having some health problems,” she said.
“Okay?”
“And while he isn’t on his death bed. Not by a long shot. Still, we need to make some adjustments.”
“Okay, so we shift things around until he gets better,” I said, still not understanding what they were trying not to say.
“I’m not going to get better, son.”
I was happy that I was sitting because listening to him refer to me as his son was enough to turn my knees to jelly.
“What?”
“I have dementia,” he said.
“What? No? Bullshit! You’re as sharp as a tack. You’ve been sharp enough to make my life miserable. You can’t be...you need to get a second opinion.”
My mother laughed and he chuckled.
“How long have you known?”
“For a while, now,” my mother said.
“And you didn’t say anything to me?”
“I nearly had to send bounty hunters to get you to come home for one night. Whenever I called you would have your assistant, Mr. R-Ramirez, handle me. When would I have the chance to tell you anything?”
“You could’ve told me if you wanted to. You COULD HAVE TOLD ME!!” I was yelling and I wasn’t really sure why. All I knew was that there was a hole in my chest cracking open and everything that came spilling out was dark, bad and painful. If I didn’t yell over the sound of all of the darkness rushing out I wasn’t sure that anybody would be able to hear me.
“Tell you what, huh? Tell you that your old man was losing his marbles?” He became visibly upset and something perverse inside me smiled. Finally, he cared. Finally, he cared about something other than his company and his family name. Finally, he cared about me.
“Of course not. Why would you tell me anything? I’m just a lazy, irresponsible asshole who unfortunately ended up being your son. Why would I care about anything like that? Why would you trust me with anything like that?”
“Of course I trust you!” He was shaking with anger but I couldn’t stop.
“Right. To do what? Spend your money and fuck up whatever bullshit projects you throw my way.”
“You think he gives them to you because he’s expecting you to screw them up?” My mother’s calm voice pierced through the tension in the room and dropped the temperature immediately.
“Of course. Just look at the shit he asks me to do?”
“Yes, just look at it. The Waterson project, for example.”
“The one where we ended up having to renegotiate the contract with the labor union.” I rolled my eyes. I remembered that project. The labor dispute pushed us back by a few weeks and cost us a bundle, but we got it done in the long run. My father, on the other hand, had seen it as a total failure on my part.
“Have you seen the returns this year on that property?”
I shook my head.
“Let’s just say we didn’t lose anything in the end.”
I looked over at my father in shock. Why hadn’t he told me that?
“Or the investments in Estonia,” my mother added. Those had been under my control as well. “I admit I was skeptical at first but you proved that you have great instincts. I could list a dozen more bullshit projects that you have overseen and screwed up that have turned out to be very lucrative in the end.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” I asked my father.
“That’s your problem. If you really cared or even wanted to know, you could’ve found out with a phone call. But you didn’t care! You don’t care about any of them or any of this. You just bounced from one post to another, doing whatever you wanted; making a freaking mess and spending money on foolishness.”
My father’s face was quickly turning a very unnatural shade of purple and his brassy red hair had been shaken out of its perfect swoop. He was livid.
“We gave you all of the projects that required your skills,” my mother interjected again, giving my father a moment to collect himself.
“And what are my skills, Mother?”
“You know how to gain people’s trust. You know when the long-term gain is more important than the short-term profits. You have…” she pursed her lips as she searched for the right word. “Insight. Yes, that’s it. You have insight. You see things others don’t see, things we can’t see on a spreadsheet or in a report.”
“You mean I’m human,” I rolled my eyes. “I know how much of a burden that is in this house.”
“What’s your problem? You think you’re the only one who’s human in this house. You think you’re the only one who has feelings that can be hurt?” My father shifted in his seat as if he might get up but my mother steadied him once again with a calm pat on his hand.
“What your father is trying to say is—”
“He can speak for himself, Mother. I would really love to hear exactly what he is trying to say.” I was tempting fate but I’d come this far. If the old man was going to lose his marbles, I wanted to hear everything that he had on his mind, while his mind was still intact.
“You treat me and your mother like we’re monsters for years, and why? Huh? What did we ever do to you except give you everything? The best schools, the best clothes, cars, what the hell else do you want?”
“How do I take my coffee?”
The question silenced the room. My father’s mouth hung open and my mother’s jaw clenched tight.
“Here’s a better question. What’s my favorite food?”
The pair looked at each other but neither of them had an answer.
“What does that have to do with anything?” My father lifted his chin defiantly.
“Do you know what Evangeline’s favorite food is?”
“You leave her out of this. This has nothing to do with her,” my mother hissed.
“You’re right. This isn’t about her. She’s lovely and wonderful. I’m just wondering why you seem to care so much more about her than you do about me. Why don’t you know anything about me? I’ve been your son for thirty years and you don’t know anything about me.”
“That’s not true. We know—” my mother began to defend herself but I quickly cut her off.
“Everything you know about me you got from a report. You never took the time to come and find out on your own. Evangeline h
ad a lesson today and you both went. How many recitals did I have where neither of you showed up? When I graduated high school, you sent a driver with flowers and a card, and you didn’t even sign the card yourselves.”
“I admit, we made mistakes, but it’s not because we didn’t love you. Times were different and the business wasn’t as healthy as it is now.”
I felt tears slip down my cheeks but I refused to acknowledge them.
“Bullshit.”
“What!” this time the old man actually made it to his feet. I stood up as well and put both hands on the table between us.
“I said, I call bullshit. You’ve never been proud of me or anything I do. You’ve made that clear. And then you found out I was gay and that pretty much sealed the deal, right?”
“You think I care that you’re gay? Christ, your Uncle Fin is gay. I don’t give a shit who you go to bed with, boy!” My father coughed out the words as if the exertion were too much for him.
“Uncle Fin?” I was a little alarmed to hear his name called so casually by my father. My Uncle Fin had been dead for several years and yet he was talking about him in the present tense. Had he forgotten?
“I just want you to stop being so damned proud of it like it’s some special badge of honor. What’s wrong with you young people today? Your Uncle Fin never said anything about who he was sleeping with. We all had to find out on our own, and even then we didn’t discuss it.”
I plopped down in my chair and watched in horror as my father began to bloviate about decorum and “standards”. I’d heard it all before, but it felt like I was hearing it for the first time. This time, not as a cold rebuke from a heartless father, but as the rambling speech of a sick old man. I looked over and locked eyes with my mother, who was looking just as mortified as I felt.
I would have to get her alone and talk to her. There was much more going on and I needed to know how bad the situation had become.
Chapter Fourteen
Marcelo
Patrick stumbled into his bedroom late that evening. He’d stayed downstairs in the library, talking with his mother long after his father had gone to bed and the new maid had locked all of the windows and doors.
Her name was Angel. I would have to remember to tell Helen about her before I left.
As soon as he opened the door I could tell he’d been drinking. He locked the door behind him and then stood still for a moment, steadying himself.
“I’m sorry. You were asleep,” he whispered loudly, before stumbling forward and pulling at the buttons on his shirt.
“I’m awake. I wanted to know how things went.”
“Great!” He smiled and burped at the same time. “My father has dementia, so he’s leaving the company in my almost capable hands.”
“Dementia?” No wonder he had insisted on keeping this family meeting a secret. If it were known that his health was declining there would be a shiver of sharks circling the Dunlevys in no time.
“Yup, they called me home to have me sign some paperwork and assume his role. But, shhh,” he wobbled as he pressed his finger to his lips. “It’s still a secret. He’s going to phase me in slowly so nobody gets suspicious.”
“That sounds smart,” I offer.
“Doesn’t it though? Not at all like the man downstairs, who lost his temper and could barely stick to one subject for more than a minute or two.”
“It must have been hard for you to see him like that,” I said.
He shook his head.
“No. Not at all. I’m just wishing he could’ve held it together a little longer.” He smiled but tears were sliding down his face non-stop. He ignored them and didn’t even bother to wipe them away.
“How bad is it?”
“He had me fooled,” he shrugged and gave me another painful smile. “But he’s slipping. He won’t be able to hide it for too much longer.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to the news. I knew what an ailing leader could mean for any organization, but I also knew that Mrs. Dunlevy wouldn’t let that happen. She was probably the one who called this meeting in the first place. Mr. Dunlevy was the plotter and Mrs. Dunlevy was the planner in the family. After a short transition period, the company would be just fine.
And Patrick?
“How are you?”
“Me? I’m great. I spent my whole life trying to get this asshole to look at me and now I find out that when he finally does he won’t even remember who I am.” The pain in those words was so raw and so deep I wanted to weep for him. But he would reject that kind of sympathy. He stood beside the bed and put his hands on his hips, looking lost even as he glared at me.
“Why do you want him to look at you?”
“Because he’s my father, whether I like it or not.”
“And?” I stood up.
“Because I love him and I want him to love me. The real me, not some asshole I’m pretending to be.”
I stepped closer to him and looked him in the eyes. We were literally nose to nose and I could feel the waves of emotions rolling off of him like a thick fog.
“So why don’t you stop pretending to be an asshole.”
His face crumpled in on itself like it was a mask cracking in half. His eyes weren’t those of a cavalier playboy or a spoiled brat. He looked at me like a drowning man, begging for his life. His expression was a silent scream and I was powerless to stop it. All I could do was be here for him and reassure him that there was at least one person who saw him and wanted him to be okay.
“Because I don’t know what else to do?”
I couldn’t hold back. I hugged him hard against my chest. He didn’t hold back either, weeping bitter tears. He buried his head in my shoulder and cried out loud, muffling the sound with his fist. I didn’t try to get him to hold back. I didn’t care if his parents heard him any more than he did.
“I got snot on your shirt,” he said, after ten minutes.
“It’s okay,” I smoothed his hair away from his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He was a bloated, pink mess at this stage. Any hint of the calm and collected playboy who had sauntered into this house was long gone. This was who he really was, a sad little boy who was afraid of losing his father. “Come lie down next to me.”
I sat back on the bed and pulled him down beside me. He didn’t fight me and obediently slid into bed next to me. I pulled him into my embrace, letting his head rest on my chest as he calmed down. There would be plenty of time to think and talk about this in the morning. Tonight, I only needed to understand one thing.
Patrick was hurting and the person he decided to turn to was me. Somehow that made me feel special. It made me think that maybe what he’d said before was the truth. I wasn’t just anybody to him. I wasn’t just a warm body and a capable assistant. Maybe he really cared about me. I wanted to believe that so much that it scared me. I didn’t want to trick myself into letting my guard down.
I cared for Patrick. Deeply. I might even love him. But loving Patrick meant pain and I had enough of that. I kept repeating that in my head as he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around me. I reminded myself of that fact when he snuggled closer. I screamed it in my head when I was tempted to kiss his sleeping face before turning off the light and getting some sleep.
Luckily, I had great impulse control.
I woke up the next morning alone. The mattress next to me was cold. I sat up gingerly. Most of the pain from my foot had subsided and I no longer woke up with it throbbing. This morning it was barely a dull ache. I grabbed my pills from the side table and took two without bothering with water. Patrick came out of the bathroom, his towel slung low on his hips, and an uncharacteristic pep in his step. I could only assume that this meant he’d found a new way to get into trouble.
I guess it was too much to hope that last night’s revelations would result in a complete turnaround for him. He was, if nothing else, tenacious.
“Good morning,” he smiled and bent to kiss me on the lips. It was a pretty benign gesture, b
ut strange coming from him. Usually, his morning kisses were more like an invitation to relive the previous night’s exploits.
“Good morning, how are you feeling?”
He looked at me and shook his head.
“I don’t know, really. Better, maybe?”
“Well, you look better,” I stood up, taking a second to steady myself on the scooter.
“So, do you,” he teased. “We may have to get a few more of these. You can use them around the house. This might be the newest trend”
“There you go, always thinking. Who says you’re not a good businessman?”
He closed his eyes and shrugged, accepting my praise even if it did ring hollow.
“SO, what are you going to do now?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and took a deep breath. He’d obviously been thinking about this all morning.
“I’m going to take your advice.”
“Which is?” I couldn’t recall giving advice at all. In fact, all I recalled was trying not to fondle a weeping man.
“I’m going to stop pretending to be an asshole. I’ve lost too much by trying to be something I’m not. I’m at the point now where if I don’t change right now, I’ll lose all of the people that are important to me,” he said in a quivering voice. He looked up at me with eyes ringed in red from unshed tears.
Pain. Patrick Dunlevy is nothing but pain, I reminded myself. I was fighting a losing battle and I knew it.
I had to get away from him if I wanted any hope of a future without him in it.
“Get showered, it’s almost time for breakfast,” he broke my train of thought with a quick swat at my ass.
“We’re eating with the family?”
“Yeah I know, it’s not like me. But, I’m trying something new. I tried honesty and it got you to stop hating me. You might even like me a little,” he winked. “Maybe if I stop acting like an asshole the rest of them will stop treating me like one.”
“What about—”
He held up a hand and stopped me before I could get the words out.
“It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything. It just means that one day that man is going to look at me and have no idea who I am. I want to know when that day comes, that at one point he used to know me very well. I can’t say that now. Right now, that man has no idea who I am, and that’s partly my fault. He’s a soulless ghoul of a man, but at least I know that. He has no idea what kind of a man I am.”
