Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
Sage
Ihear their voices as I come around the corner of the house. I've been looking for Anton, Freddie and Dad for almost an hour now. That's the downside of having such a big house. We spread out, and then it takes forever to track down who you're looking for.
I find them on the porch. Dad is sitting on the outdoor lounge next to Freddie, wheelchair faithfully nearby, while Anton stands.
I pause to watch them, something odd about what I'm seeing.
For two years I've begged for this moment, to see Dad again and be able to make it right.
Now though, I know he doesn't know this new version of me and I wonder if he can even stand this new version of Anton.
My uncle's voice is the strongest among the three, talking business with Freddie while Dad watches on curiously. It's like an appraisal, and from the addled glances Anton levels at my Dad, I suspect he knows that's exactly what it is.
I'm jolted back to the present when the home nurse shuffles between them all, breaking up the awkward staring contest. She sets a cup of pills down in front of Dad, his hand quickly coming out to bat her away.
She swiftly scurries off, almost like she's already afraid of him.
A small smile graces my lips. I can't help but find that kind of funny.
I never exactly had my Dad wrapped around my finger, but I never saw him the terrifying way everyone else seems to.
I join them, my light white dress falling gently across my legs as I sit down in the armchair next to Dad. "You've gotta take those pills, Dad," I say, picking them up and pushing them towards him.
"Hush, anima mia," Dad says, batting me away as well.
"I'm not scared of you like that nurse obviously is. Now stop being a grumpy old man and take your pills." I grab his glass of water and shove it in his face along with the little cup of pills again.
"When did you get so forceful?" Dad says, but he does take the glass and take his pills.
"Has she not always been forceful?" Anton contemplates.
"Brat is the word you're looking for," Freddie says, smiling. I smile too, but resist the urge to clip him upside the head.
I suppose that's an accurate description.
"So," Freddie says, clearing his throat. He shifts in his seat, stopping and starting like he's trying to gain the courage to speak. When he does he addresses Anton, even as his eyes shift to Dad for approval. "The ugh, the ugh, Rushkoffs have asked for backup-"
"Stop!" Dad says, his voice booming as he raises his hand to halt the conversation.
Freddie and Anton comply, but not like they weren't expecting this reaction.
Their eyes slowly turn to me.
It takes me a second to work out that Dad is actually staring at me and not them.
"What?" I spit, annoyed and defensive.
"Sage," Dad says, tilting his head towards the house. "Shouldn't you have other things to do?"
"No...?"
Dad huffs. "This talk isn't for your ears. You shouldn't be hearing things like this."
Freddie raises his eyebrow, sharing a look with me. One that says, I've seen, and planned, much worse than Dad could imagine. But he doesn't know that right now.
The silence drags on too long for my liking.
"She can stay," Anton murmurs.
Dad sits forward as much as he can in his condition, jaw tensing. "You let her hear this kind of talk, little brother?"
Anton sighs, biting his lip as he looks away from Dad. "Things changed, Dim."
Dad doesn't like that answer one bit. "Please then," Dad says, waving his hand invitingly as he sits back in his chair again. "Show me how things run when you're the one in charge."
The conversation hurts my heart more than I thought it would.
I forgot how much had changed, me specifically, since Dad has been gone.
It burns a reminder into me of why I did what I did.
I lived a trapped life. Where I was an ornament, fragile but only built to be seen.
So I did something drastic in order to be seen and gain freedom.
I have that freedom and respect now. From Anton and Freddie. Not from my father.
"Uh, as I was saying, the Rushkoffs have asked for backup this wee-"
"It would be an absolutely not from me, brother," Dad challenges. "And you would say?"
Anton looks torn, where I thought Dad's presence would lift the heavy weights off his shoulder it has only seemed to weigh him down more.
"Give them the resources, Freddie." Anton doesn't look at Dad when he says it.
"Over my dead body."
Anton sighs. "Well, you were dead, Dim."
"When I was in ch-"
"And I don't give a fuck how it would have been when you were in charge," Anton snaps. "Because you weren't. And you aren't. Until you're back on your feet the decisions here are mine and I don't care if you like it or not."
Anton's chest heaves as he levels this challenge at my father. The air is thick and heavy with tension, as we all know Dad will only back down and let this continue if he chooses to.
Anton remains steadfast in his stride. "I'll fall in line when it's time, Dim, I can promise you that. But right now, it's not time."
Dad breaks the tension first, surprisingly, looking down in disappointment as he uses the arm of the chair to hoist himself into his wheelchair.
"I need to go lie down." He speaks without making eye contact and wheels himself into the house with as much dignity as he can, our eyes following the path he leaves behind.
"This is bad," Freddie states.
Anton shakes his head, watching the space where Dad left. "He will understand, he just can't see the bigger picture right now."
"We can't be managing him, Anton."
Anton slumps into his chair. "I know that. But he's not fully recovered yet."
Freddie hesitates though he clearly has lots more to say. "Time is critical right now, we can't let Chet get the upper hand. And we can't let Dimitri unravel the progress we've made with the Rushkoffs."
"I know, Freddie."
"It's just-"
"Freddie, please," Anton says, rubbing at his temples. "I know all this. Dimitri will see it, too. I hope. He just doesn't see the big picture right now."
I sit silent but ashamed. Well aware that I form a large part of the big picture. Dad doesn't know about Victor. About Alexei killing Nicholas. About my plan to set the whole thing in motion.
Well, there's lots he doesn't know.
All things I have done. All things I've personally wrecked for us.
All of it my fault, and none of it that I'm willing to admit.
Not that it would help. We can't stall for long. That was always the thing with Dimitri DeMarco. He never asked. Only took what was his. Regardless of his condition or his mental state, if Dad wants control, he will take it.