Page 4 of Bittersweet Revenge
Father Nelson and the servers walk slowly to the altar as we all stand by watching. I should be singing, but I don’t. My father is beside me, losing himself in the music, despite all the blood he has on his hands.
I have it on mine too. It’s our way of life, and that will never fucking change.
Father Nelson steps behind the altar, kisses it, and I follow his lead, touching my forehead, then chest, left shoulder, right shoulder, with each movement speaking the words I’ve said a million times over the course of my nineteen years. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
He goes into Penitential Rite next, telling us to remember our sins and celebrate the mystery of Christ’s love, followed by prayer.
I play my part the whole time, through prayer, song, homily, and profession of faith. Do I believe any of this? I guess I do. It’s all I fucking know, but sometimes it all feels like a waste of time. No matter what we pretend, none of my family in the pew with us will be going to heaven.
Mom reaches over and grabs my hand—I must not be paying attention. I try to focus on the rest of the service, ready to get the hell out of here and head up to Ashford. It’s two hours away from our home, but I love the facade of freedom I have at college. At Ashford, Sloan O’Shea isn’t in charge. I am.
When Mass is over, I breathe out a sigh of relief as we step into the Boston sun.
“You didn’t even pretend to be interested,” my younger sister, Aislin, says. She’s eighteen and will be a freshman this year, while I’m going into my sophomore year. I’m thankful as fuck she’ll be with me where I can keep an eye on her. I don’t trust anyone to take care of her as well as I can.
“I’m not as good an actor as you.” I cock a brow at her.
“I can’t wait to get the hell out of here,” she says, echoing my thoughts.
We’re never truly free, not of who we are, or our birthright, and…I don’t really want to be. The power is fucking incredible, even if stifling on occasion.
“We should go have lunch before the two of you head out,” Mom says, making me tense. It’s a reminder that again, I’m leaving her alone. She hates it. Sometimes I think she hates everything about our life, but I don’t believe it was always like that.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, but Dad shakes his head.
“Fia, we have business to take care of,” he warns her. “You can have lunch with Aislin, and then Blain will take her to school. Tiernan will head up later.”
Blain works for my father. He’s hired muscle, though I guess we all are, but he has Blain driving Aislin around a lot. He doesn’t always do the same for me, as though Aislin can’t take care of herself just because she’s a girl. She would fuck us both up, but my father would never be able to admit it.
“I can drive myself.” Aislin crosses her arms.
“Stubborn like her mother,” Uncle Rian says.
“She’s tough like her,” I cut in.
“Yes,” Dad says, “and your mother still has a bodyguard.”
“Dad—” Aislin starts, but Dad holds up his hand, silencing her.
“He won’t stay with you. He’s driving you there. I don’t know how late your brother will be. And then you’ll have him there to keep an eye on you.”
I can see my sister biting her tongue, but Mom, always the peacekeeper, puts an arm around her. “It’s just a ride, and then Tiernan will be there.”
But that means he’s leaving her without a car. She’ll be living on campus, and I won’t, so in his mind, that must ensure she’ll be dependent on me.
“Whatever,” Aislin replies. Dad kisses her forehead, and she says nothing and walks away. He would never accept that behavior from me, so in some ways, she has the advantage, and in others, it’s better to be me.
“I’ll miss you so much.” Mom pulls me into a hug, squeezing so tight it’s hard to breathe.
“I’ll miss you too.” It’s true. Sometimes I think she’s lonely. Actually, there’s no sometimes about it. She is, though it’s confusing. How can we be lonely with so many people around us all the time? How can we want for anything when we have everything? But then, I guess she doesn’t. She has a husband who treats her like shit and a son who will follow in his footsteps.
“Have a good semester. Call me every day and—”
“Fia. He’s a grown man. Let him go. We have business to attend to.”
We both know my father has the last word, so we pull away. Her eyes are watery, and I wonder if it’s hitting her that both her children will be away for college now. We’re close, all of us, even if we show it in different ways. And besides, Aislin and I will beback. We’ll always be back because we’re O’Sheas and we stick together.
“I love you,” I whisper, for only the two of us, then follow my father to his black SUV.
