Page 5 of Taboo
Pushing the door open, I step into the shadowed room of death.
The air’s heavy, tinged with antiseptic cleaner and the stale smell of illness. I move silently. Dad is in bed, a slight figure under the covers, his breathing a faint rasp. He appears to be asleep and I hesitate. I don’t want to wake him. He sleeps so little nowadays with the cancer carving him hollow and painmerciless. I hover, unsure why he called for me, wondering if I should slip out and come back later.
I’ll just make sure he’s okay before I go.
Noiselessly, I ease closer, my fingers brushing the blanket, light as a whisper. I don’t dare do more, not when rest is so rare for him. Sinking into the chair beside the bed, I study his face—wrinkles deep as canyons, skin sallow and thin, the toll of age and disease etched in every line. My chest aches with a lonely, bruising sadness.
He’s my only family, the last tether I have, except for Max, who’s out there somewhere, my supposed half-brother, but a stranger now. Soon, Dad will be gone, and I’ll be alone, no one left to call mine. The thought is a cold wave, pulling me under. I want him to get better, to defy the doctors, but their words echo: He’s terminal. He has weeks left at best. Be prepared to say your final goodbyes. I have to face it, but God, it hurts.
I’m about to stand, to let him sleep, when his hand darts out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist weakly. My heart lurches as I meet his eyes, sunken and clouded with pain. He’s awake, and he looks worse than ever, but his gaze is glittering with urgency. Fear spikes through me. I’ve been so lost in my own head, I haven’t really seen how far he’s slipped. Why, he’s almost at Death’s door.
“Dad, are you okay?” I sink back into the chair, my voice trembling.
He doesn’t smile or try to reassure me. He just holds my gaze as if he knows this is it. This is the end. His grip is weak but strangely desperate and clingy. His other hand lifts, and shaking with effort, it reaches for my face. I start to stop him, worried he’ll exert himself, but he shakes his head, stubborn as ever. I let him touch me, his claw-like fingers grazing my cheek. They are waxy and strangely cold, as if he has already lost the heat of life.
“I don’t think I can go much further,” he whispers, his voice a brittle thread.
A rush of love crashes over me, mingled with grief so sharp it steals my breath. I don’t want to cry, don’t want to make this harder for him, so I force a smile, bright and steady, pouring all my strength into it as I shake my head, clinging to denial.
“You’re going to be fine, Dad. It’s hard, I know, but you can beat it, Dad. I know you can. For me.” The lie burns my tongue, but I can’t say anything else, can’t face the truth when it’s staring me down.
He coughs, a weak rattle, and his eyes soften, searching mine. “I need to tell you something, Amelia. I thought I could leave without saying it, so I wouldn’t have to see the look on your face. But I can’t. You’ll be alone soon, and it’s killing me, knowing no one will be there to protect you. I have to tell you the truth.”
“Truth?” My voice quakes, a chill slithering down my spine. “What truth?”
He takes a labored breath. “Fourteen years ago. When I called you and Max to my study. You remember?”
Do I remember? That night left a scar on my soul. It broke me, turned my world to a drab hell, and I’ve never been the same since. I’ve tried not to hate him for it, but now, looking at him, the anger flares, hot and raw. He stole everything—Max, my happiness, my future. I nod, my throat too tight to speak, afraid of what I’ll say if I open my mouth.
“I want you to reach out to Max,” he says, his voice faint but quivering with emotion. “After I’m gone.”
I blink, shocked. “Why?” The word is sharp, almost a challenge. Does he know Max is now a great success worth hundreds of millions? Is this some pathetic grab at his success?
“You’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he murmurs. “But I need to know you’ll have someone strong, someone who can help if you need it.”
Fury surges, bitter and biting. “You threw him out of our lives, Dad. You cut him off, and now you want me to go crawling back for help? That’s not worthy of you. I don’t get it.”
He winces, but his fierce gaze doesn’t falter. “You’re still in love with him.”
“Yes,” I admit. There is no point lying to a dying man.
He shakes his head restlessly with sadness. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. So sorry. I really didn’t want to hurt you. I thought about taking my secret to the grave with me, especially since he’s already married with a family. But I can’t. I can’t leave without telling you. I lied, Amelia. Max isn’t my son. He’s just the housekeeper’s boy.”
The words slam into me. I stare at him in total shock. My mind goes numb. Minutes pass, or perhaps hours, before my mouth opens and words that don’t even sound like mine tumble out.
“What are you saying?”
“Max is not your half-brother. You’re not related in any way to him.” His voice cracks, he sounds weaker, and yet relieved. “Please forgive me, my darling. I genuinely believed he’d be a terrible match for you. You were so young, unfocused, and he… his background wasn’t right for you. I didn’t want you derailed. You deserve something better than a housekeeper’s son. I knew you were headstrong and wouldn’t have listened to me. Neither of you would have… so I lied and I forced his mother to do the same. It was the only thing I could think of to stop both of you from carrying on.”
“You... you… lied?” I gasp in horror and disbelief.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
Tears spill, hot and unstoppable, and my voice shakes with rage and shock. “You’re sorry? You thought breaking my heart was the best thing you could do for me?”
“Yes, I'm sorry, very sorry for the pain I caused you," he says brokenly. "And if I had to do it all again, knowing what I do now, I’d make very different choices, but back then, I was sure it was for the best. I did it for you, out of love. But the guilt has weighed me down all these years. I was wrong about Max. I never thought he had it in him to rise to the heights he has. So if the two of you can somehow reconnect, he'll be a good friend to have.”
I glare at him. Utterly appalled by his selfishness. At his audacity. He reaches for my cheek again, but I push his hand away. Not gentle. My breath is ragged.
