Page 20 of Speak No Claim

“So did your grandfather.” He regarded me for a moment before taking a slow sip of his drink. The amber liquid reflected off the fireplace.

I’d spent my entire life under that stare. Every conversation with my father turned into an examination. It was just how he was made.

“I wasn’t aware this was story time,” I stated.

“It isn’t.”

My father’s stare shifted toward the fireplace, his reflection flickering against the wall. When I was a kid, I used to envision puppets dancing across the white paint. Sometimes I’d still see the strings attached to my old man.

His words were quiet now. “They buried him standing.”

I resisted the urge to tell him I didn’t give a fuck, instead, I mocked, “Should I be taking notes?”

“No.” His gaze shifted back to me before he questioned, “Did anything happen that wasn’t supposed to?” He took another slow sip from his drink, setting it down on the table. It loudly clinked against the wood.

I followed the sound. “You tell me.”

“I already know what happened.” His voice never rose. “I want to know what you think happened?”

“I found her, didn’t I?”

The room suddenly felt smaller.

“I know.”

“Then why am I here?”

He reached for the decanter and refilled his drink. Everything he did had a purpose. “Again, I ask, did something happen that wasn’t supposed to?”

I shook my head.

“No?”

“No,” I sternly repeated.

“You answered too quickly.”

“I answered.”

“You reacted.”

“Some people would say they’re the same thing.”

“Since when are you some people?”

Losing my patience, I asked, “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Why, son?” He leaned back into his chair. “You have somewhere more important to be?” He gestured to me. “Considering you show up to a party in our home dressed like you don’t live here.”

“You should be grateful I’m here at all.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You wear that hoodie because you think it separates you from this family.”

“No.” I paused for effect. “I wear it because it’s comfortable.”

“One day you’ll realize everything I’ve done is for you.”

“And one day you’ll realize all the guilt you keep aiming at me is just a gun you’ll never fire.”