Page 13 of I Blame the Club

Our mother got run off the road by a drunk driver back in my freshman year. My sister was in the car at the time, and while our mother died of internal bleeding, Stella survived with a few broken ribs and eighteen stitches up her right side. She underwent physiotherapy for months after the accident, but itwasn’t until she started dating Cody that she realized she needed help dealing with the emotional stuff as well.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Giving her hand one last squeeze, I release it with a wink, “If you and Ellsworth ever need a DD, you know where to find me.”

Stella laughs, “I’ll keep that in mind. How are you doing being back in Taber?”

“Better now that you’re here.” She rolls her eyes and I smile, “It’s been good. MacNeil Incorporated was getting a little suffocating, so it’s been nice to branch out.”

“By suffocating you mean…”

“Jonathan.”

She winces, “Jonathan. Have you talked to him about changing departments?”

I shake my head, reaching for my whiskey, “Not yet. Things have been busy lately, so I haven’t broached the subject.”

An eyebrow raises, “Sounds like you’re making excuses.”

“O’Briens don’t make excuses.” Taking a long sip, I savour the burn the whiskey leaves in its wake. If there’s one man who can lead me to drink, it's my father.

Stella watches me closely, “You don’t have to live up to his expectations, Mo.”

I shrug, “I’m used to them by now. You can’t be the man of the house without bearing the weight that comes with it.”

My sister frowns, toying with the ends of her long braid, “Maybe you should join one of my sessions with Karen. It’s not healthy trying to be perfect all the time.”

I smirk, “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t have to try.”

“You’re unbearable.”

Stella sticks her tongue out and I smile, pushing down the pressure in my chest that has been there since I was twelve-years-old.

“Do you see this?”

My father wipes the tear from my cheek, holding his finger up to the light, “This a sign of weakness and that is something I never want to see."

I sniff, rubbing my eyes, “But what about when I’m sad? Mom says everyone is allowed to be weak when they’re sad.”

“Your mother is wrong.” He kneels in front of me, his cold gaze locking on mine, “To be weak is to be average, and you my boy, are not average.”

I frown, “But why is Stella allowed to cry when she’s sad?”

“Your sister won’t be the man of the house when she grows older, that responsibility will fall to you.” My father wipes my cheek again, disappointment shining in his eyes, “But only if you’re strong enough to take my place. Are you strong enough, Maurice?”

I nod, hastily wiping away the rest of my tears, “I am strong, Father.”

“Good. I don’t ever want to see your cheeks damp again. Do you understand me?” He stands up, blocking the light behind him and casting me in shadow.

“I understand.”

Cheer explodes from the bar, and I turn my head to see the TV playing the hockey highlights of tonight’s game.

“See anyone you like?” Stella grins, tilting her head towards the excited crowd.

I shrug and grab my coat from the back of the chair, “No one worth fighting for. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Nico

“That’s going to hurt in the morning.”

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