9. Remy
I abandoned the illusion of being a good person a long time ago when I chose to be complicit in my family’s dark holdings rather than take the chance that my loved ones would be hurt. I chose safety over the greater good, and while I work to undo the damage that I did by keeping their secrets, I also know that doesn’t make me a good guy. At best, some might call me morally ambiguous. If there’s anything after this life, it will be Hell for me, and I’ve made my peace with that.
But as I sit at my father’s funeral, drowning out the incessant monologuing about what a great and powerful man he was, I realize I may be more of a dick than I thought. The clock drags by as each person who claims to have had some sort of relationship with the horrible old man stands up and delivers remarks colored to make it seem like the world is a little bit darker because of his death.
I know the truth, though, which is that the world is a little safer now. At least, the people I love are a little safer without my father lording over me, using their well-being to pull my strings.
When it all finally ends and we have to line up to receive condolences, I pray—for the first time since I was a child—for an end to come. I could care less if the church bursts into flames at this point if it will get everyone out of here.
But the building doesn’t combust, so I stand next to Rhea and shake hands with the mile of people who come to us with their solemn faces and tell me they’re sorry for my loss. My sister gives hugs to every one of them, even though she can’t possibly know all of these people, and accepts their apologies as if that will really make her feel any better. She doesn’t know that our father’s death is no loss. In fact, it guarantees her safety a little while longer.
I’ve learned to get through the unpleasant stuff by disconnecting. Sometimes it’s as simple as flipping a switch, pulling a cord from the wall. It’s how I got through his verbal abuse as a child and it’s how I got through each one of those awful auctions I had to watch in an attempt to outbid other men for the freedom of strangers. It’s how I can pull a trigger or plunge a knife into someone, ending one life to preserve another. I’ve gotten so good at it that nobody usually notices that I’ve stepped out of my own consciousness.
But once the room has emptied and Rhea turns to me, I realize she caught me. Her eyes are rimmed in red, and I can tell she’s been crying. She looks exhausted, worn out. It feels like years have passed since we walked into this church. “They kicked everybody out so that we can say our goodbyes,” she says, nodding at the coffin perched on the altar. “I think I can go up alone this time.”
She doesn’t sound terribly confident in the words that she speaks, but she’s offering me an escape, and I’m not too proud to take it. “Are you sure?” I ask, searching her face for any indication that she’s just trying to put on a brave front, that she needs me to accompany her.
“Yes,” she nods. “I want a minute alone, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course.” I answer her quickly, but she doesn’t seem to notice. A small smile forms on her lips. “I’ve already had my chance to say goodbye, so take all the time you need. I’m going to step out for a minute.”
“Thank you, Rem.” Rhea says, pulling me into a hug. “For everything.”
I’m not sure what she means by that, but I’m not in the position to question it. I just hug her back and try not to imagine how close I was to standing here with her in the coffin instead. We may not have been terribly close by other people’s standards, but my sister is the closest person to me. She’s been the one constant my whole life, and even when we hate each other, our love is stronger. I abandoned her and Monica to keep them safe, but even if it was for her own safety, I could never cut my sister off completely.
I press a kiss to the top of her head and turn away before she can see the single tear I have to blink away. Understanding that I’m about to leave her alone, she catches my hand, holding onto it for a moment longer before letting go to have her final moments with the man she called her father.
I leave her standing in the center of the church, facing off with an expensive coffin.