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“The guy had it coming.”
“Oh…I’m sure he did. You and your brothers…any excuse to fight, and now it’s been passed down to our son.” Maggie looked up at the ceiling and moaned. “I can’t believe this is happening. He’s going to get kicked out of the best prep school in Washington. Do you have any idea how many strings my father had to pull?”
Nash had heard enough. He’d never liked the idea of sending Rory to the effete prep school, but he wasn’t around enough to really fight it. “You know what, Maggie, it doesn’t matter how much money your dad made, and it doesn’t matter how much you make, they’re never going to let you into their little club. No matter how you slice it, you’re an Irish Catholic girl from Boston.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me. I’m proud of where I came from. I’m not so sure you feel the same.”
“Don’t you ever!” she screamed, and held her glass up like she might throw it at him.
Nash waved her off and walked out of the kitchen, saying, “Look who’s the one with the temper now.”
“We are not done talking about this!” she yelled after him.
“Yes, we are.”
Nash grabbed the railing and climbed the stairs. He knocked softly on the boys’ door and then entered. Rory was on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow, sobbing. Jack was sitting in his bed reading, a frightened look on his face. Nash walked over and pulled back Jack’s blankets.
“Go read in Mamma’s bed. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”
“Is everything all right?” Jack whispered.
“Everything will be fine, buddy.” Nash nudged him out the door and then closed it. He walked back to Rory’s bed and sat on the edge. He put his hand on Rory’s back and said, “Ror, I want you to try and calm down and then I want to hear your side of the story.”
Between sobs, he managed to spit out, “What does it matter…Mom doesn’t care.”
“I care…so stop crying and turn over.” Nash rubbed his back and added, “Son, I was in plenty of fights when I was your age. My dad used to say it takes two to tangle. Your mother doesn’t understand that because she’s a woman, but I do. You’re a good kid. I doubt you just hauled off and smacked Derek for no reason.” Under his breath he added, “Especially since he’s a spoiled little shit.”
Rory flipped over and composed himself enough to start the story. He said, “We were done with lacrosse…and were waiting for play practice to start…which I hate…and Mom made me sign up for.”
Mentioning his mother elicited another deluge of tears. “Calm down,” Nash told him.
“Derek was waiting to get picked up and he started talking about Shannon. He started to say…things.”
Nash’s antennae went up. “Like what?”
“He talked about how hot she was…and that he wanted to have…you know…he wanted to have sex with her…except he didn’t use that word. He used that word that we’re not supposed to use.”
Nash felt his own anger grabbing hold. “Which word?”
“The F word.”
Motherfucking little shit, Nash thought to himself. “Is that all?”
“I told him not to say it again or I was going to hit him…and then he started talking about Mom.”
“Really.” Nash said, surprised. “What did he say?”
Rory squirmed. “I’d rather not say.”
“I’d rather you did,” Nash said in a very firm paternal voice.
“He said…Mom was a…” Rory stopped.
“What?”
“He called her a MILF.”
