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Dee threads her fingers with mine and just that loosens my shoulders. I look over. Her face is somber but her arresting eyes on me are warm. I remind myself that she’s okay. The baby’s okay. We’re okay.
Once upon a time, I would not have wanted Dee here. I would have wanted to shelter her from the ugliness of it all. Fix things on my own before they could touch her. Now, I can’t imagine being here without her. She’s strength and comfort. She’s home.
The sound of the door clicking open has our heads turning in that direction. Dr. Randal Stevens, as he introduces himself, enters the stuffy room intended for families receiving bad news about a loved one. He is accompanied by Charlene something or other, a grief counselor.
I stifle the harsh laugh and politely shake her hand and the doctor’s. They address Dee then join us at the round table.
“Thank you for coming.” Stevens, an older man, graying at the temples, nervously clears his throat, seeming uncomfortable with this aspect of hisjob. “Your father passed away earlier this morning. We tried to revive him but the damage to his lungs was just too extensive. Given the…uh…criminal matter, we notified the police. They completed their process and so we are required to release the body into someone’s care. Yours was the only name on file; however, if there is someone else, we can contact them.”
“There’s no one.” Victor had offered but it felt unfair to pawn this off on him.
“We realize it’s is a unique circumstance.” Charlene steps in with a kindly manner. “I am here to support you however I can. If you’d like to see him,” she couches her words, “if that’s something you would like to do, I can make the arrangements. Some people find that it gives them closure.”
“That’s not necessary, thank you. I’m good.”
The doctor clears his throat again and checks his watch. He can’t wait to get the hell out of here. That makes two of us.
“If we could just get to the practical aspects of this meeting,” I say, “I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Charlene outlines the bureaucratic details and slides across the paperwork to be completed. “The hospital will send Mr. Peters over to the funeral parlor you choose.”
I hadn’t thought of a funeral. Arranging a service for him is out of the question. I won’t pretend to celebrate his dishonorable life or mourn his disreputable death. I will do the bare minimum and be done with it…be done with him.
On a brisk handshake, Stevens books it out of there and Charlene gives us time alone with the documents. Dee puts a hand on my arm.
“How are you feeling?”
“I told you before that I’m fine.” I return her gaze. “I’m still fine.”
“I’m not sure anyone could be fine in this situation, Mick.”
“Beauty, you’re the one who encouraged me to get free of him. I’d say this is as free as I can get.”
“Death doesn’t necessarily equal freedom. I don’t want you to gloss over whatever you’re feeling. I don’t want you going dark or quiet or numb.”
“I’m not numb. That implies an emotionally-anesthetic state of coping. There’s nothing for me to cope with, other than this fucking paperwork and making arrangements.”
I grab the pen off the table and attack the first document, filling out my personal information before I turn back to her. “I’m angry, alright. I’m angry that he’s dead. Not because I give a damn about him. But because he got off easy. Again. He didn’t have to face the consequences or account for his actions. He didn’t in life and now he won’t in death. But there’salso this relief that he’s gone. He can never attempt to hurt my family. We won’t get tied up in an investigation and possibly a trial. It’s cleaner. We can move forward. Our lives and the world are better without Malcolm.”
“That’s true, he didn’t amount to much and did so many awful things. But he did one thing right.”
“What?”
“He gave the world and me, you.”
“Dee.” I shake my head.
“I’m not placating you, Mick. Your father was a vile human being and he never deserved you. But look at what you’ve become in spite of him. An amazing man. An amazing husband. And you’re going to be an amazing dad.”
“Beauty.” I cup her face and lay my forehead against hers. A rush of love clogs my throat.
“Know what we should do?” she says with a sudden burst of energy.
“What?”
“Get out of here.”
“We will. Soon as I get these papers signed.”
