Page 17 of Pretty Heartache

“I don’t deny our father fucked all three of us in ways we can’t comprehend. With Jude, he had a drinking problem, but he overcame his demons and put his past behind him. When you were caught with all those illegal prescription drugs, I thought I was doing right by you the first time ten years ago. The judge was willing to give you a slap on the wrist by giving you a small fine. But this last time…” He sighs, resting his elbows on his desk and massaging his temples. “I hired the best lawyers to talk down your sentence, and as much as I despise doing it, I tried to use our family name to lessen your penalty. I tried to negotiate your sentence down to rehab, but the judge wasn’t having it. He said your offenses were too extreme, even for setting bail, and if he didn’t send you to prison, it would have sent a message that money can buy your way out of facing the consequences.”

“I know you did what you could.” The idea that I have a felony attached to my name for the rest of my life turns my stomach sour.

“So, stop living in the past, and move on!” he yells.

“I’m not one of your children, Lennon,” I bark back. I know I fucked up. Every day, I wake up knowing I messed up my life with one singular decision. It flipped at the turn of a dime.

I look at my brother, angry he doesn’t understand that the trauma of prison doesn’t simply fade with time.

“No, you aren’t one of my children,” he seethes, his eyes bulging. “But I am your big brother, and I’ve done nothing but try to protect you. Your sentence could have been a lot worse than two years, and I won’t deny that the stunt you pulled last night worries me that you’re traveling down the same path. I missed the signs the first time. I don’t intend on doing it again. Because next time, it won’t just be two years. It’ll be more, and I’m afraid my hands will be tied.”

I roll my eyes and squeeze my hands into impossibly tight fists. I want to drive one of them into the fucking wall when I hear shit like this.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I force out between gritted teeth. “This isn’t like that.”

“How can I trust you?” He narrows his eyes. Despite my brother’s hard exterior, I see the love and fear he has for me, but it’s misplaced. I wish I could take it away from him. I wish I could tell him the truth, though the truth breeds contempt. It’s better to remain inthistruth than to live in the alternate one. For all of us.

“I think it’s time you take a break.” Lennon disrupts my thoughts. The nonchalance in his voice makes me think he’s been planning on having this conversation with me for some time. The smooth, effortless way the words fall from his lips are as if he’s recited them in his head for longer than I care to know.

“I don’t need a break.” I rest my hands in my lap and straighten my back in my seat. I’m losing my grip, once again.

“You do.” I can see the fight in him to stick to his guns. “Ever since you were released, I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt.I figured it would be great for you to dive back into your work, start over with a clean slate. Same as before. I gave you another chance, and I saw change. I saw you’d finally grown up. You weren’t the same, troubled, twenty-something you were back then, and handling our accounts overseas has always been your strong suit. But your work has been slipping, and the last thing I want is for you to get in trouble again, find yourself going back to prison, or worse, in a situation you or I can’t talk our way out of. My power only reaches so far, Micah, and I refuse to wield it as our father did. Last night is proof you need a break. I don’t blame you for struggling these past few years. I can’t imagine what you went through once you were released, but I can’t, in good conscience, allow this to keep happening.”

I open my mouth to object but stop short. I don’t have it in me to argue with my brother, and maybe that makes me weak, but it’s easier than trying to convince him otherwise.

“Why don’t you take this time to fix that house you bought out in Cambridge years ago? You’ve always said you never had the time to remodel it, and it was just sitting there when you were gone, untouched.”

“I have someone working on it,” I mumble, not wanting to dive too much into who, exactly. “Besides, I don’t plan on keeping it. Not anymore.”

I keep my words short and clipped. I’m trying to stand my ground, digging for reasons to throw back at Lennon as to why he should keep me at work, but I come up blank. Instead, I find myself talking about this house. The house that used to mean more to me than it does today. But I fucked up, and it cost me everything. My future. My life. Everything.

“It’s a shame you aren’t going to keep it.” Lennon frowns. “But I understand. I think, anyway.”

“Yeah.” I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I don’t like thinking about the past. It stirs up dark feelings, and darkfeelings lead me to recklessly trying to fuck women in dirty bathrooms, only to end up with vomit all over my shoes, and staring back at my father’s reflection in the mirror.

“How long am I supposed to take this break?” I question him.

“However long it takes you to release whatever it is that’s trying to pull you back.” He drags his finger on the arm of his chair in circles before looking me in the eye. “You don’t have to become that person again, brother. It isn’t you. Whatever it is that’s trying to pull you back there, let it go.”

I give him a sarcastic laugh. Easier said than done.

Lennon is wrong. It’s not that I feel like I’m being pulled back. The truth is I feel cheated. Cheated out of the life I deserved, and every day I’m reminded of the price I paid for it all to mean nothing. I’m not living the life I wanted for myself because of the choices I’ve made in the past. I’m not living the life I envisioned because every day, more and more, me and the rest of the world see James Harding.

I stare at my brother, completely at a loss for words. There’s nothing I can say to change his mind or make me hate myself any less than I already do.

“Fine.” I stand, buttoning my suit jacket and moving around the chair. I rest my hands on the back and grip the leather as I lean forward and look him directly in the eye. “Since you seem to know me so well and claim to know what’s right for me, why don’t you let me know when it’s appropriate for me to come back?”

“Micah…” He holds his hands out. “Come on, man. Don’t take it personal. This is for the best.”

“Yep.” I push off the chair. “That’s what I’m here for. To always do what’s best.” I spin on my heel and head for the door.

“Micah! You’re my brother, and I love you. I just –“

The door closes behind me, quieting my brother’s booming voice, shutting him out.

I wish it were as easy to block out my past. Maybe then it would stop haunting me.

SIX

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