“You don’t mean that,” I told him.
“Hell if I don’t,” he spat.
“Look, Ben, I don’t know what went on between you two…”
He didn’t let me finish. “That’s right, Row, you don’t, so just stay the fuck out of it.”
Felicity brushed past me and stepped toward him while exclaiming, “He’s your father!”
“Not as far as I’m concerned he ain’t!” he shot back.
Our friend started forward as if to stand then huffed out an angry sigh and fell back in the chair. He went silent; shaking his head as he grimaced, he then reached up to massage his temple. After a moment, he focused back on us and held up his hand. “Listen, I understand what you two are tryin’ ta’ do here, but you’ve got no clue what’s goin’ on. Ta’ be honest, it’s none of your business, and Helen never shoulda gotten ya’ involved.”
“That may be true, but she did,” I told him.
“Well, I’m un-involvin’ ya’.”
“Aye, it’s not as easy as all that,” Felicity replied.
“Yeah it is.”
“Monar!” she spat. “He’s your father!”
Ben didn’t even bother to ask for a translation of the Gaelic epithet. He simply shook his head at her and said, “Yeah, whatever. Just trust me, Felicity, let it go.”
“Let it go?” she barked as she started toward him.
I reached out and took hold of her arm, stopping her dead in her tracks. She whipped her head to the side, looked down at my hand with absolute contempt, and then locked on to me with an incendiary stare. I knew immediately that I had just joined Ben as an object of her ire, but I didn’t let go. Instead, I simply held her fast and shook my head.
“Back off, hon.”
“Why?” she grumbled. “Someone needs to wake his sorry arse up to reality.”
“Awww, Jeezus fuckin’…” Ben groaned at her comment.
“Why don’t you let me talk to him,” I told her.
“Aye, what if maybe you hold him, and I’ll beat some sense into him then,” she countered then shot her glare his direction.
Still holding her arm, I turned to face Patrick who had remained perfectly silent through the entire exchange. “Do you still have some of that imported chocolate you were telling me about?”
“Yes, Rowan, as a matter of fact I do,” he replied without hesitation.
“I think Felicity would really like to try some if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he replied with a knowing tilt of his head. “Dear lady, if you would like to accompany me downstairs.”
“Chocolate? Fek! Damnu ort, Rowan! What are you?…” my wife sputtered angrily. “I don’t want any goddamned chocolate!”
“Yes, Felicity, you do,” I told her sternly.
“No, I don’t!” she argued.
“Felicity, please…” I appealed. “Let me handle this.”
“Why don’tcha’ both go have some,” Ben chided.
“Rowan…” Felicity widened her eyes at me as she almost snarled her protest.
“Please…” I repeated. “Just let me handle it.”
We were all tired, time was short, and I simply couldn’t afford to let Felicity continue to go off on a tear right now. I wasn’t sure if it was the rum finally affecting her or a combination of it all, but somehow Ben’s disdain for his father had struck a serious nerve with her. My wife’s legendary temper was fully alight, and she simply wasn’t going to help the current situation at all.
She drew her lips into a thin frown and remained silent. The fact that her glare hadn’t softened in the least was more than enough to tell me there was going to be some form of retribution in my near future. However, that was something I would have to deal with when the time came.
I just hoped Patrick was correct, and the chocolate really was that good.
Felicity jerked her arm from my grasp and brushed past me, starting out the door ahead of Patrick. He gave me a quick nod and followed along behind, drawing the door shut in his wake.“You’re in trouble, white man,” Ben announced as I stepped farther into the room.
“Uh-huh,” I agreed with a sigh. “And not the good kind I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, well, ya’ brought it on yourself for nothin’,” he told me. “I already told ya’ I’m not goin’ ta’ see ‘im.”
“Okay,” I replied as I found a recliner opposite my friend and perched myself on the edge of the seat.
He shot me a puzzled look. “Okay? That’s it? Ya’ mean you’re not gonna try and convince me I should go?”
I shrugged. “Seems pretty futile.”
“Yeah, well I told ya’ that before.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, so what’d’ja step in the shit with Firehair for then?”
“Just saving you from an ass beating at her hands is all.”
“Yeah, right…” he chuckled.
“Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” I offered.
“Yeah, maybe so, but man… She’s pissed.”
“Yeah, she is, but it’s my problem now.” I leaned back in the chair but continued watching him. “You have to admit, the tension level is quite a bit lower now.”
“In here,” he nodded. “But I sure’as shit wouldn’t trade places with ya’ later.”
“Yeah, well, she’ll calm down. I hope.”
I remained silent after that, trying to find a segue into what I was really here to do. My attempt at defusing the situation had worked, for the most part anyway. He had actually chuckled at my comment about Felicity, and the tension truly had moved down the scale perceptibly. Unfortunately, now it was my turn to dial it back up. If nothing else, the call from Helen had impressed upon me the urgency of the situation, and it was weighing on me along with everything else. I didn’t have the luxury of leading him down the garden path to an enlightened realization. I needed to take a shortcut straight through the thorny hedgerow, and I suspected it wasn’t going to be pretty.
As long as Ben and I had been friends, I had made it a point not to press him when he didn’t want to talk. If he wanted me to know something, he would tell me, sooner or later. It was a rare occasion when I would break that unspoken rule, but now was just going to have to be one of those times.
“So. You want to talk about it?” I finally said.
“No. Not really.”
“Why don’t you do it anyway?”
“What? Now you’re gonna start after all? What happened to ‘okay’?”
“I’m not pushing you to go see him. Just tell me why you won’t.”
“Because I don’t fuckin’ wanna, okay?!” he barked.
“It might help.”
“Goddammit Rowan! What did…” He shouted the curse then let his voice trail off quickly as he gave me a suspicious look. Raising an eyebrow, he gave his head a quick shake then harrumphed out a half-chuckle. “Yeah. Nice try, white man, but don’t play psychologist with me. My sis’s already got that base covered.”
“I’m not,” I replied then shrugged again and amended the statement. “Okay, well, maybe a little.”
He grunted, “Uh-huh.”
“Okay, so that didn’t work.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Got anything else?”
I lied. “Not really.”
“Then, why don’tcha grab a cigar and kick back for a bit?”
“As much as I’d like to, I’m going to need to dig myself out of this hole with Felicity, and I doubt that would help much.”
“You’re prob’ly right.”
“Yeah. Guess I’d better head downstairs.”
“Yeah. Guess you’d better.”
“Well, just so you know,” I offered, “Helen says he’s in bad shape.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled then took a drag on the cigar and allowed the smoke to billow around him. “He was in bad shape this afternoon too.”
“Apparently now he’s worse.”
“Good.”
“He probably won’t make it through the night.”
“Even better.”
While I was used to my friend’s occasional bursts of brutal honesty with regard to his feelings, I was wholly unaccustomed to seeing anyone with this level of animosity toward a parent. Whatever had happened between the two of them went deeper than I wanted to imagine. On top of that, it was obvious from his comment that he and Helen had gone into it more than once, and if she was unable to pull him from the depths, I seriously doubted there was anything I could say that would make a difference.
We sat staring at one another for enough heartbeats that I eventually lost count. He quietly puffed on his cigar, once taking a moment to knock down the ash before returning it to the corner of his mouth. The look in his dark eyes was one of unabashed hatred. The scariest part was that it was not born of an emotional rage; it was cold and brooding, deep and without limit. The feeling was so palpable in the air between us that given my hypersensitivity to emotions, it made me physically ache.
I knew full well that it wasn’t directed toward me, but I fell within its dark swath, and it was a place I knew I simply couldn’t remain for long.
I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. I don’t know exactly why, since I clearly had his full attention, but it seemed like the thing to do, especially since I was preparing to play the hold card I’d lied about. I was about to blindside my friend, and I wasn’t feeling good about it. Unfortunately, I didn’t seem to have any other choice.
“I’m not going to press you on this,” I finally said.
“Smart man,” he replied.
“I do, however, think that you should consider Helen in all of this.”
“Don’t ya’ think I have, Rowan? She made her decision.”
I stood and pushed my hands into the pockets of my jacket then regarded him for another moment. “I believe that you think you have.”
“Whaddaya mean by that?”
I sighed and pressed forward with my plan. “Family is important, Ben. Felicity and I consider you an important part of ours. I want you to know that.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Same here.”
I continued. “I’m serious, Ben. You’re a rare kind of friend. The kind of friend that either one of us would walk through fire for; and, I know you would do the same for either of us.”
“Yeah, I would. That goes without sayin’,” he replied in a confused but serious tone. “So?”
“So, you have other family, my friend. Blood family…”
I pulled my hand out of my pocket and in it was my cell phone.
“Jeezus… Fuck me… Rowan, don’t…”
I had flipped it open and thumbed the speed dial for Helen’s cell while it was still concealed, so I put the device up to my ear. Her strained voice was already coming across the line.
“Rowan? Rowan, are you there?”
“Hold on a second, Helen,” I replied.
I took the couple of short steps toward Ben and laid the phone on the end table next to his chair then looked him in the eyes once again.
I gave him a shallow nod then as I turned to walk out, I said, “I think maybe it’s time you walked through some of that fire for your sister.”
Before I even hit the bottom of the stairs, I could hear that Felicity and Patrick were engaged in an animated conversation. From what I could make out, I had to assume that it was about Gaelic history. I suppose that shouldn’t have been a surprise.
When I came out of the back room, my wife shot me a quick glance over her shoulder.
“Did you convince him to go see his father, then?” she asked, her Celtic brogue heavily underscoring the sentence. I knew she had to be just as exhausted as me, and it wasn’t out of the question that the rum could be playing a part as well. It was hard to say at this point, and the dull throb that was still residing in my own skull wasn’t helping me to reach any conclusions.
“We’ll see,” I replied. “He’s on my cell with Helen right now. Or at least I hope he is.”
“You hope he is?”
“Yeah. Long story.”
“Okay, so what should we do now?” she asked.
“Go home.”
“You don’t want to wait?”
“He’ll either go or he won’t.” I shrugged. “We’ve done all we can do, and I can get my phone back later.”
She considered me in silence for a moment then asked, “How’s your headache?”
“Still there,” I replied. “How’s your drinking problem?”
“Still there.” She echoed my answer.
Without missing a beat, Patrick interjected, “Somehow I don’t think I want to know what the two of you are talking about.”
“You don’t,” we replied almost in unison.
Felicity shook her head and turned back to me. “Aye, let’s just go home. I’ll beat you after I’ve had some sleep.”