Here Lies a Father. Mckenzie Cassidy

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      CHAPTER 4

      I STARED AT MARIE AS SHE SIPPED HER COFFEE. I Still hadn’t made up my mind about Carla’s story. I wanted to ask if it was all a lie, but my thoughts were conflicted. Although I was in the thick of it, I still didn’t give myself permission to rock the boat. Questioning my own world didn’t feel natural, and I was terrified of ripping the bandage off old wounds. Staying silent was much easier.

      I didn’t doubt that a relationship of one sort or another had existed between Carla and Dad when they were younger, especially because of how emotional she was at his burial, yet whether it was to the extent she described was questionable. Either way, I felt it was unhealthy for her to have held on this long. The day some girl dumped me, which was bound to happen, I’d vanish from her life completely. Never would I permit it to be public knowledge that I was still pining for her, because it was nobody’s business. But maybe Carla couldn’t handle seeing Dad move on to a better woman like my mother, so she concocted a bogus story about bearing his illegitimate children to rip our lives apart? Anything was possible at that point.

      The truth was, women loved Dad, which I never understood because he wasn’t particularly attractive. I assumed it was his confidence, his biting sense of humor, and the ability to appear like he had it all together even when inside it was all a mess. None of these traits had been passed down to me, unfortunately. I wasn’t confident. I wasn’t funny. And to make matters worse, I wasn’t good-looking. Girls didn’t particularly care for me. They’d describe me as a good friend, the sweet guy who could always be counted on to be there when they broke up with the guy who really drove them wild—but certainly I was not boyfriend material.

      “This must be uncomfortable for the two of you,” said Marie, breaking the awkward silence that descended upon the living room. “I’m just going to say this once. I’m here, if either of you have any questions.”

      “Why would we have questions about our father?” asked Catherine. “I knew him better than anyone else in …” She was wound up and itching for a fight, but each time she started to unleash the beast inside, she’d promptly remember how we were trapped at Marie’s house. She was already very uncomfortable and didn’t want it to get worse. “No, thank you,” she added, clearing her senses. “I don’t think we have any questions at this time.”

      “Not all of us are so open. There was much damage done when your father left and some of us, even after all these years, are sore about it,” said Marie, pausing for a moment. “It sounds funny saying all of us, doesn’t it? I never thought it’d be this way.”

      “What do you mean?” asked Catherine.

      Marie began stumbling over her words. “Well, it’s just that Thomas, I mean your father, didn’t really want anything to do with us. He made no secret of that. He ran into some trouble before he left for Wellbourne, borrowed some money that he couldn’t pay back, and as for his family, we were as good as dead to him.”

      Catherine sat up straight and looked into Marie’s face. “You know, we all have different memories and perspectives of him. He was my father and I want to remember him in my own way,” she said, in the same critical tone that drove Mom crazy. “He isn’t here to defend himself, is he? I don’t want you all bad-mouthing him just because he’s dead. So, if you don’t mind, let’s end this little walk down memory lane.”

      Dad wasn’t there to give his side of the story, but I questioned why Catherine wanted to pretend like his past didn’t exist, like the only important memories were the ones he’d made with our family. Dad was so private, to everyone who crossed his path, but especially to me. Mom had probably known most of his secrets just by being married to him for so long, and he had slowly been filling Catherine’s ear with tidbits, yet I knew close to nothing. I craved stories about his life, about when he was a teenager or when he first met Mom, and I wanted to hear them whether they were good or bad. Catherine’s outbursts were making it difficult to get either. She was raising the drawbridge before we even had a chance to hear anything at all, meaning I’d have to corner some of these people on my own, which wasn’t exactly in my nature.

      I had tried for so long to stay neutral and bite my tongue, but Catherine was getting on my nerves.

      “One second …” I cut in. My throat constricted and it was hard to swallow. I spoke loudly, but in truth I was terrified and had no idea what I was going to say until it came out of my mouth. “Catherine, wouldn’t you like to hear about Dad’s life before us? I mean, he never told me anything so it might be interesting to hear.”

      I noticed Marie smirk from one side of her mouth. My sister’s eyes opened wide and then closed into two furious slits.

      Catherine had a dark side, a way of cutting the legs out from under me. Speaking up had caused catastrophic damage to our united front and she’d make me pay for each and every word. I wouldn’t be forgiven until I demonstrated full contrition. I regretted taking a stand against her, but I couldn’t see how it wasn’t in our best interests to learn more about Dad. Then guilt set in. I remembered nights she made me dinner when Mom worked late, or when she said I could tag along with her and her girlfriends to the movies. When the screaming and threats between Mom and Dad grew too intense to ignore, she’d bring me into her room to play with dolls and listen to cassette tapes. What a selfish asshole I had become. Now I understood why people didn’t like me. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.