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CHAPTER 10 - MARCUS
My god she was a pain in the ass. I do something nice for her and the thanks I get is a rebuke and an accusation. But worse than all of that, I followed it up by being honest, by telling the truth, by showing myself what an idiot I am for her.
I did pay and overpay for the records because I figured she would like them. Sal and the boys thought it was weak of me too, but I had to pay for them, because I knew she would refuse stolen ones. I hate how good she is at putting me in awkward situations and making me explain. I hate this weak willed person I come to be around her. Well, that ends tonight.
I would go back inside right now and show her she is mine, and have her enjoy the hell out me fucking her, anything to stop this feeling of weakness. When I’m fucking her, I’ll feel strong again.
But now, I had promised to introduce her to my father. That should be uneventful, but I found myself worrying what they would say to each other, if they would like each other.
The lake was frozen in the moonlight, silvery ripples broke up the mirror surface. I thought of going fishing, maybe with her. Fish or fuck, one or the other. She may even ruin fishing for me. Fishing was like meditation, nothing could follow you out there, you concentrated on what was in front of you, what was in front of you was the only thing in the world.
Maybe tomorrow, after I had her tonight.
I poked my head back in the cabin, she sat with the records arrayed around her. “Well, as long as the moment is ruined, how about we go visit my father?” I asked. She got up silently and followed me.
We walked up to the main cabin, a mansion really, not a cabin, a compound. The living room had floor to ceiling windows and looked out over the lake. The room my father was in was just to the left of it and had a big bay window instead of floor to ceiling, but let an amazing amount of light in and had a beautiful view of the lake and the mountains. The place was quiet, somber, and the priest was in the room with the old man, I saw her pause at the priest, a priest next to the bed of an old man in poor health is never a good sight, but I pulled her along, and the priest got up to leave when the old man saw us and motioned us in.
“Teasing the poor father again?” I asked.
“My only pleasure these days. They keep everyone away from me because I need quiet and rest but I feel like I’m already dead with all the quiet and rest around here.” He said warmly, and looked at Anna beside me.
“This is my friend, Anna. She'll be happy to scream at me if you want.”
“Anna. Lovely Anna.” He raised his hand to shake hers and spoke to me, “Even if they're screaming at you, at least they're talking. Even if they're laughing at you, they're still laughing.” He turned back to Anna, “So what do you do Anna?”
“I'm a political fundraiser. I worked on Michael’s campaign.”
“Ah, beautiful and smart. You don't belong here any more than Marcus does do you? Why are you here with us?”
She looked at me, and I gave her the look to shut her mouth, “I don't know,” she said and it sounded like she meant it.
“Well, at least she's honest. When I ask you that Marcus, you have no answer either, but you pretend to have one. Family. Loyalty. Bullshit.”
“Dad, maybe now's not the right time for this.”
“I don't know how much time I have left. So I don't care about any of that. If now's not the right time who cares? There may never be a right one. One more thing on the bucket list was me confessing why your mother and me split up. I love having you here, but it breaks my heart at the same time. Your mother and I loved each other, very much. But we agreed when you and Michael were very young, that I couldn't leave this life, and growing up in this life would trap you kids, and her. But if she left at least you two would have options. Wouldn't be trapped. So we agreed she would leave and take you with her.”
“I know all of this. Mother got it off her bucket list before you did, and we've been over it too. I had options and I know the other life that you never did. It's just as corrupt, believe me.”
He talked to Anna, leaned in close, like they were conspiring against me, “You see? Stubborn. Won't listen to his father. Yells at a dying man. Go scream at him or laugh at him, or give me a grandchild.”
He leaned back on the bed, we were tiring him out, it seemed. We said our goodbyes, and he made Anna promise to visit him again, to conspire against me no doubt.