Page 84 of The Actor and His Secret

Unbeknownst to our guests, we have no plans of attending our reception. Instead, while they are enjoying the food and drinks, the music and games, me and my Honey are jetting off to the warm Caribbean. But first, we have someone to visit.

The metal chair is nailed to the floor, inches from the table. Everything in here is metal - even the baton the guard is holding. I sit in the - almost - empty room, staring at the man who spent his life trying to ruin mine. I smile at him, still dressed in my wedding suit, the blush of joy and my happily ever after painted across my face.

‘Did you come for my blessing?’ My father spits, his tired old hands worn and beaten as he lays them on the table.

‘No,’ I reply.

The last time I saw him, it was from a bench in the courthouse as the judge read out his charges. Now, all I see is a pathetic man whose actions finally caught up to him. Although he was only sentenced to ten years, which would likely be halved due to good behaviour and limited prison space, at least he knows that it would take just one replay of the voice recording of him admitting to killing my mother, and he’d be locked up for a very long time.

‘Then to what do I owe this displeasure?’ he asks, accent thick.

‘I wanted to see you,’ I reply. ‘One last time.’

His eyes widen. It’s brief, but I enjoy seeing him squirm. All my life he has held my mother’s death over my head - it’s only fitting that it’s my turn to do it.

A truly full circle moment.

Father leans in close, his rotten breath washing over me. ‘You made a promise.’

‘And as our bloodline seems cursed when it comes to promises, I may just break this one. Depends on if you hold up your end of our deal.’

The deal being ‘stay away from me and mine, and you can be free. Never come near, think of, contact or hell - even speak the name of me or my husband’ or ten years will look like playtime compared to what he’ll get if his true secrets came out.

‘You came to see me,’ my father says, as though reminding me of the obvious.

‘I did.’ I lean in, mirroring his stance, expect the smile on my face has not yet wavered. ‘I want you to see me, the real me, the one you never gave me the chance to be. And I want you to recognise that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.’

‘Good for you,’ my father spits.

‘It is. Oh, and I married him. Oli. I know you remember him.’

‘Your dirty little - .’

‘Ah, ah, ah, father.’ I shake my head like a displeased adult speaking down to a child. This is a power play, and I’m high on it. ‘Words are very hurtful. I wouldn’t want you to say something you may come to regret.’

The guards catch my eye and I nod, letting them know all is well. I see him fiddle with his pocket, to the stack of money I’d handed to him as I came inside. Bad, I know. But what is a little bribery, if it means I get to do what I’ve come here for?

‘I hope you rot, father. Here, alone. Never experiencing love. Even when you had the most precious woman in the world in the palm of your hand, you carelessly broke her, all because you were small and pathetic. But I didn’t just come to gloat, although truthly, it feels fucking amazing to do so. I came here to look you in your eye and say how sorry I am.’

His furrowed brow softens, the lines around his glaring eyes easing a touch. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m sorry for whatever happened to you to make you into such a hateful person.’

The look of shock lasts but a moment before he spears forwards, spittle flying beyond thin lips. ‘How dare you - ’

My fist connects with his jaw, the crack a beautiful symphony. My father’s head lolls back, his body slumping over the chair where he topples to the ground. Steadily, I stand, my own chair squeaking against the floor.

‘Yes,’ I say to myself. ‘That really was worth the money.’

My father doesn’t hear me because he’s howling like an animal in a trap. I’ve said my piece, so I prepare to leave, thanking the guard with a wink and a smile. As I make my way to the exit, I find myself wanting to say one more thing.

‘Oh dad,’ I call out, turning back to face him. ‘Orange really suits you. Brings out the devil in your eyes.’

‘Fuck you - ’ he shouts, slamming fists on the table. In moments the guards grab him, but I don’t stick around to watch. I hear him thump to the ground, groaning and bellowing. He is a man who finally understands that he’s lost. His screams are full of torment, and I admit, the sound is blissful. Beautiful.

‘Goodbye father,’ I say, mostly to myself. In my mind I picture Oli, sitting in the back of the car, nervously biting his nails, likely thinking we would miss our flight. The sun is shining down on me as I leave the prison, but no ray is as bright as the smiling, golden-haired man who waits for me. And when he opens his mouth and speaks, I know I’ve made the best decision of my life.

‘Nikos Adonis Ridge Drakos, we’re going to be late!’

---