Page 42 of Demise

I walk past her. “Talk to the fucking mailman for all I care, but don’t talk to me.”

She grabs my arm. “He was your brother, Danny.”

I reach for her hand, squeezing it harshly. “I’m well aware of that, and he married the love of my life. I kept him alive simply because he wasmyblood. Otherwise, I would have buried him out by the Delaware.” I snatch her hand off me and stalk out, slamming the door shut. I hear the windows rattle.

My phone rings. “I’m on my fucking way.” I hang up and climb into my car, hitting the gas and spinning tires as I exit the perfect neighborhood my brother put her in.

I get she’s mourning his death. Hell, I’m not happy he’s dead. I loved the boy in my own way. I didn’t want things to turn out like this. I was hoping they’d divorce like any other unhappy couple and move on with their lives, but we got what we fucking got. And he did wrong by marrying her—he knew how I felt.

That’s why he came to me at the bar and told me. That’s the only reason he gained any respect from me. The only reason I didn’t interfere, and I knew I couldn’t give Bexley the life he could.

But now… now things are changing.

Now I might be getting out of this lifestyle, and I want her with me. I gotta have her with me.

The houses switch from white picket fences to boarded up windows, and I drive a little farther until I hit the neighborhood, seeing Paul’s black town car already there. I pull up behind it and kill the engine.

“Ma, get back inside. It’s below freezing out here.”

“I’ve lived through this cold a lot longer than you, Danny O’Brien. I can manage.”

I smile and walk up the steps, gently hugging her.

“Oh, it’s good to see you up and moving.”

“Good to see you, too, Ma. Now let’s go inside before we both freeze to death.”

We step into the quaint home we boys grew up in. It’s funny how when you haven’t seen the place in a while, it seems smaller. “Your brother is in the dining room. I’ve got breakfast on the table.” She reaches for my coat. I shrug it off, and she hangs it on the coat rack.

I move a hand through my hair as I walk into the dining room. Paul sits at the table with a newspaper, one leg crossed over the other and a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Brother,” I greet him and take my seat beside him.

He folds the paper, looking at me skeptically, but he chooses not to mention my tone on the phone earlier.

“How are you healing?” he asks.

“Fine. Sore, but I’m fine.”

He nods. “Good. Let’s eat.”

Ma comes in with the coffee. “Have a seat, Ma. I’ll get it,” I tell her. I stand and pull her chair out.

“You’re hurt, Danny. You sit back down.”

“No, ma’am. A gentleman always pulls a lady’s chair out.” I wink at Paul who chuckles.

“I taught you that,” she says.

“Yes, you did, Ma.”

She takes her seat, and I pour her coffee before refilling my brother’s cup and having a cup myself.

“Let’s say grace,” Ma says.

We take hands and bow our heads. “Bless us, O God, as we sit together. Bless the food we eat today. Bless the hands that made the food. Bless us, O God. Amen.”

We all make the sign of the cross and begin filling our plates. We make small talk about the weather, and Ma mentions Samuel and how we were as kids. Bexley’s name gets brought up. Ma wants to see her. I tell her I’ll pass the word along, which gets my brother’s attention.

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