Page 98 of Disgrace

A good one—an honest one.

It still hit it.

John had never quite realized how well his father actually knew him, but the truth was, Lucian saw more things in John than he ever admitted out loud. Perhaps that was because his father loved him more than John understood, or even maybe Lucian just had a way about him that allowed him into other people’s perspectives.

He really didn’t know what it was.

“Siena is definitely a reason for my impatience,” John admitted. “The longer I have to wait, the further away she seems.”

“Good things come to those who learn how to first wait for them, John.”

“Impart that wisdom on someone who gives a damn. At the moment, it isn’t me.”

Lucian chuckled. “So is the way of a Marcello man when it comes to his woman.”

“Yeah, well …”

The two remained quiet as John turned back to compact the evidence of his former misdeeds deeper into the garbage can. He didn’t realize his father had come to stand beside him until Lucian’s hand snaked into the trash bag, and pulled out one of the documents.

Lucian stayed deathly quiet as his gaze drifted over the crumpled documents, and took the words in. It was the record of an event he should recognize.

John, at newly turned seventeen, had taken off for a little over three days in a hypomanic episode, and damn near killed himself with liquor and pills while he chased a rush. It ended up being the first of many hospitalizations leading up to his first full blown manic episode, and final diagnosis.

It took all of John’s willpower not to snatch the paper from his father, and shove it back where it belonged. In the goddamn garbage. He forced himself to remain still, and let his father take in the paper.

Lucian dropped it back down into the bag, and grabbed another. Then, another and another. He took his time reading each one until he seemed satisfied enough to know that everything in the bag was the same.

All about his son.

All about his disorder.

“What is all of this?” Lucian asked.

John stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Me.”

Lucian gave him a look. “It is not you. It is moments in your life during darker times. Moments in which you were not entirely yourself. Moments when you still needed help you were not getting.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And he did know that now. But it took several fucking days looking at this shit for it to really sink in that all of this garbage meant nothing to John at the end of the day. These events in his life had passed long ago, and he no longer behaved this way.

“I thought there were only a few of these packages sent out to people you know,” Lucian said quietly. “What did you do, go and collect every single one of them from everybody?”

John laughed.

Hard and bitter.

“No, these are all mine. All sent to me.”

Lucian stilled, and his gaze darted to John. “Oh, I see.”

“Another reason I am so impatient to get this over with when it comes to the Calabrese family,” John muttered.

“You know,” his father murmured, “growing up, everyone liked to tell me that my son was the wild one. He came from you, but he acts like a young Giovanni.”

John chuckled, knowing some of the stunts his uncle had pulled growing up. Of course, Gio had not been bipolar, or anything of the sort, simply … a wild child, and far too free spirited for his own good, according to everyone.

“And then you got older,” Lucian continued on, not letting John speak at all. “We learned you were not like Gio—you were you, and you had your own set of obstacles to overcome. Yet, you were so focused, John, even on your worst days, and in your darkest moments. You had a goal that never changed in your life, and I wasn’t sure whether to be proud, or terrified because of it.