A Boy I Used to Love(74)

My heart started to twist as the distance between me and River grew. I hadn't seen my parents in close to five years. They were phantoms of my memory at that point, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt that my mother was gone.

Jerry stopped at a large wooden door and stiffened his back. He licked his lips. This guy was actually afraid of my father. So, after all these years, my father finally found someone to boss around that he could actually control. Part of me wished I knew Jerry's story so I could help him. But the truth? I just wanted to go. I wanted to leave with River and get away from the pain and memory.

Jerry then looked at me and nodded.

He lifted his hand and knocked on the door.



My father sat in a large leather chair. He was holding a glass of whisky. A fire crackled in the fireplace, the flames flickering light against his face. The room was like a massive study. Books were from floor to ceiling with a large desk in the corner of the room. He had aged quite a bit, but I supposed selling your soul to money would do that. He had been a hardworking man, but the second he got a sniff of money, he turned into a greedy one.

At the same time, he did give me a roof over my head. He had made sure I had clothing, meals, and toys. His decision to rip me away from River and go to New York might have had the best intentions for my becoming a doctor and securing a happy future for myself. I understood all of that. I really did.

My father turned his head and looked at me. "Lacey."

"Dad," I whispered.

I sucked in a breath and felt my eyes watering already.

"Is she really gone?" I whispered, my voice crackling.

"I'm afraid so," he said.

"Why … if she was ill … "

"Sit, Lacey, please," he said.

"I'd rather not … "

"Please," he said. He leaned forward and put the glass down. He rubbed his chin. The hair on his face had visible gray everywhere. His eyes were saggy and weary. Those were things that money could fix, though. "I know you brought him with you."

"River?"

"Yes."

"Yes. I brought him."

"So, after years of keeping your hand away from the fire, you jump right into it."

"I'm not here to talk about River. Or any of my decisions in life. I came to pay my respects to my mother. I want to know when the service is and where. As soon as that's over, I'm flying back home."



       
         
       
        

"Home?" he asked. "Isn't this home?"

"No," I said. "This is all fake."

My father smiled. He shook a finger. "Sometimes I wonder where you got your heart from. That hippie 'free spirit' attitude. You love so much and so deeply. You just put it in all the wrong places."

I swallowed the words fuck you, and they burned going down.

"Lacey, sit," my father said.

I walked across the large room and sat down. The leather chair was super comfortable. But I pretended to sit stiff and uncomfortable.

"You look beautiful," my father said.

"Thank you. You look old."

He grinned. "I am old."

"What happened?"

"She had some stomach pains. I guess she had been having them for a while and ignored them. She just took medicines to make the pain go away. If she'd seen a doctor earlier … " My father shook his head. "That doesn't matter right now. We were working tirelessly on a new project together. A real estate development venture. It was the closest I ever felt to her, Lacey, after having you. Working side-by-side on a business together. Then she was in the hospital, and doctors were telling us she was having liver failure. I made phone calls and offered money to anyone who had a pulse. But it didn't matter. There wasn't enough time. There just wasn't enough fucking time."

My father looked at the fireplace.

He was genuinely hurt over this.

"I'm sorry you lost her," I said. "When is the service?"

He shook his head. "There is no service, Lacey."

"Excuse me?"

My father then pointed to the fireplace. I looked and saw what looked like a large vase on the mantel. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. What it meant.

"She's resting now," he whispered. "She'll now remain there on the mantel and I'll remain here alone."

I stood up. "You had her cremated? Without telling me?"

"It was my decision, Lacey. She was my wife."

"And she was supposed to be my mother," I said. "Who are you? Who did you two become?"

"We only wanted what was best for you," he said.