Chapter 51 Finale
Eva and Seth stand with their arms crossed, confident in their threats. Eva's gaze shifts to Celeste, gleaming like a predator's.
I roll my neck to ease the tension I've been carrying all day.
I pull out my phone and open the file Kyle sent me on this mother-son duo.
"You know, if you're going to threaten someone, you should do a better job of hiding your own skeletons."
Seth shuffles uneasily at my statement. Eva frowns.
I smile.
"Your son Seth is in $517,388 in debt as of this moment."
Eva's frown deepens, while Seth's shoulders tense. He reaches for Eva's hand but she jerks his hand off.
"If you know how much he owes, pay it and settle it." She even smiles. "It would have been better for you to just pay what I was originally asking."
"Seth has $207,000 squirreled away in off-shore accounts that he thinks no one knows about. He has other assets totaling $103,773." I continue like I wasn't interrupted.
"Even if he were to liquidate everything, including your house, you would owe A LOT of money to some very dangerous people. Isn't that right, Seth?"
Eva's eyes widen at the implications of what was said. I get the deep satisfaction of seeing them both lose their color.
"You know the best part?" I continue in the same pleasant tone, "I have proof that you and Seth came into this much money by defrauding even more dangerous people—who would get very mad if they found out."
Seth looks green where he stands. I get to see the moment Eva realizes who holds the power in this situation.
"Come on, son. You love me. I'm your mother. You wouldn't throw us to the wolves, would you?"
She moves to step closer but halts at the look on my face.
"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to go back and issue a statement confessing the lies you spoke about us. You're going to apologize to both of us."
I look at Seth to include him as well. "And then, you're going to turn yourself in to the police—where they will likely use you both as C.I.s. I'll give you twenty-four hours to make it all happen.
"If you don't do as I say...If you try to run away..." I smile.
"I will tell all those dangerous people how you stole from them and how you have enough of their money to disappear forever. Do you understand what that means?"
Eva stumbles back, face white as paper. I don't feel an ounce of pity.
"Let me explain. They will come after both of you. They will hunt you to the ends of the world, and then torture and kill you."
"But...I'm your mother..." Eva says it like it's supposed to mean something to me after everything she put us through.
I ignore her statement. My tone is sharp when I ask, "Do you understand your choices?"
Both of them nod dumbly.
I smile again. A smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Good. Now, Get. Lost."
Like they've been kicked, they backtrack and stumble away. Eva continues staring at me, eyes wide with disbelief, like she cannot process why their plan failed.
A few feet from me, they actually start running.
I sag onto the porch—completely drained.
Celeste drops down beside me and places her head on my shoulder and we sit like that for a long time.
—-------------------------
It takes some time, but color slowly returns to Marcus's face.
I stare out at the road, head on his shoulder, hand holding his. The grass around their porch is extremely overgrown.
The house is falling apart, like it's reflecting the state of Marcus's heart.
The grief and guilt that he is carrying is corroding his happiness and sense of worth.
Night has fallen completely, the street lights casting a dull glow on everything.
I get to my feet and pull him up.
He looks like a drowning man.
I lead him up the steps and to the door.
He stares at the door like he's seeing a ghost. I prompt him once and he reluctantly unlocks it.
We step inside and he switches on the lights.
It looks like it's been untouched since his father's funeral. There's a medical bed in the living room. A thick layer of dust coats everything.
Old blankets—now threadbare lie on the sofa.
Grime that hasn't been cleaned in years claims the wooden floor until even the knots are lost to time.
We carefully step forward.
Marcus zeroes in on the bed and walks towards it. I follow him. There is a faint rotting smell that comes from the sheets, and a few stains.
I suppose no one changed them.
I cannot help but contrast it with the house it used to be. It used to be shrine to his mother...now it's a tomb of the man lost long before he died.
A small end table with three drawers sits beside it. Marcus caresses his father's pillow, and his eyes shine with such grief, my throat tightens.
Curiously, I pull it open the top drawer. There's a box full of expired medicines and a small journal.
I flip through the pages... only about ten seem to be filled.
"Marcus," I call him. "You should read this."
I hand him the journal.
He takes it in trembling hands and collapses on the sickbed chair.
I move to give him some privacy, but he stops me.
"Please stay."
I stand behind him as he starts to read.
—------------------------
Celeste hands me a pocket journal bound in leather. The pages have long since yellowed. I blow away the dust mites crawling on the spine.
I flip to the first page. It's my dad's handwriting.
'Marcus, my son.
I want to start by apologizing. As I lie in this bed day in and day out, I've had a lot of time to contemplate our lives.
The conclusion I've come to is that I've been a terrible father. An absent father.
In essence, I orphaned you the day your mother left—because I lost myself that day as well.
Your mother is alive—I know you know. Still, I'm sorry I pretended otherwise.
The first time I realized that I knew nothing about you, was when your friend Celeste stayed over.
When I saw you truly smiling and glowing in her presence, I realized how much we had stolen your smiles, your joy—happiness that every child deserves.
I spent years—decades—lying to myself and you about my relationship with your mother.
I pretended that she loved me, and would be back soon—because that was the only way I could cope with my unrequited love.
I could never quite accept that the only reason she married me was because she was too far along to abort when she found out—and she couldn't have a child out of wedlock.
I'm sorry. I lied to you that she loved and accepted me. She didn't. Everything I told you about our relationship was actually what she had with her then boyfriend.
The only reason she was with me was because she was trying to make him jealous after a particularly bad breakup and I was named the most handsome man in the county.
We pretended to date for a couple months before a whirlwind wedding. I told you I was an orphan, but what I didn't tell you was I lived in this very same house with my parents...until they passed when I was 7.
I could never leave this house because it was the last memory I had of my parents... and later, of my life with your mother.
Your mother and I were happy for a time. Your maternal grandparents adored you, and we told them you were just premature.
They helped us often by gifting you and your mom her favorite things, and your mother tried to make the best of the situation.
Everything fell apart when they passed in a car crash and the property your mother inherited was deeply mortgaged. We had to sell everything and even put in some of our own savings to clear those debts.
That's when the fracture between your mother and I deepened. The resentment grew—until she couldn't bear it.
I tried to be a good father... I knew she was punishing you to punish me for being inadequate—but I failed miserably.
I'm sorry, son.
I want you to know something else. I refused to go to the city with you because I couldn't bear to be a burden after being such a horrible father.
How would I ever face my parents if I drained all your savings for treatments that would only delay the inevitable.
I chose this. I know I can die any day now.
Remember this, Marcus. 'I' chose this. What happened to me, everything that happened with your mom... It was never your fault. Only mine.
You spent your entire childhood and adulthood trying to become someone that could be loved—that would be chosen.
Just this once, let me choose your wellbeing over mine.
Also, I know something happened between you and Celeste. But know this—you love her. This kind of disappointment—anger, even—can only exist where there was genuine affection to begin with.
Choose yourself, son. Don't choose to be better in the hopes of being chosen. Choose to be happy with someone you can be yourself with.
Constantly trying to be different to earn someone's affection is the most exhausting thing... and it only ends in disappointment.
Go back to her. Beg for her forgiveness. Cherish her.
And forgive this fool of a father if you can.
I do love you, son. And I'm sorry.
Goodbye.'
No. No, no no!
Tears pour down my face and I fling the journal with all my strength. It thumps against a wall and falls to the floor.
Celeste pulls me to the couch and holds me tightly, like she can keep me together by sheer force of will.
And in the safety of her arms, I allow myself to break completely for the first time.
—-----------------------------
I hold Marcus as he falls apart. His whole body shudders violently as his head rests on my chest.
His hands close around my waist, tight as vice. Soon enough, my blouse is soaked through.
I caress his hair, and kiss him on his head.
I don't know when exactly, but the shudders start subsiding. The tears stop, and his arms loosen.
We fall asleep in that position on the dusty couch.
—------------------------------
When I open my eyes, I'm still on the couch. I have a soft pillow under my head and an old blanket is draped over me.
Soft rays of the sun filter in through the grimy windows and I can smell coffee and bacon.
I spot Marcus on the chair by his father's bed—reading the journal again.
"Hey." I say softly.
He looks up, but his face is empty.
"I got us breakfast. And some coffee." His voice is raw, barely understandable.
"Thanks." I take a sip of coffee and pop a few pieces of bacon in my mouth. After I've eaten my fill, I head to the washroom, determined to freshen up after an incredibly long twenty-four hours.
I've not missed the fact that Marcus has washed up too.
The bathroom is pristine. I pop my head out to look at Marcus. How long was he scrubbing this bathroom?
I spot a tooth brush and fresh toiletries as well.
My man is a classic caretaker.
I wash up and step out. I spot Marcus by the kitchen and head towards him.
I know exactly what he needs.
—--------------------------------
We clean the house. Every square inch.
Mrs. Green, his neighbor, spots us moving out the trash and drops by with lunch.
Marcus grabs everything that belongs to his mother and throws it out.
I gather all the rotten clothes in large garbage bags. Marcus hunts the cabinets for his father's secret stashes of alcohol and empties them in the sink before putting the bottles in the recycle pile.
I gather the broken knick-knacks and the expired medicines into the disposal pile along with anything even remotely unusable.
Very few things make it into the keep pile. Like their photo albums and his father's wood carvings.
Marcus hands me a tiny one of a carp, where his father has my name carved.
"What—"
Marcus smiles. "He made this for you. It's supposed to bring luck."
It has a hole running through near the mouth, and I thread my key ring through it.
I don't think Marcus even realizes how much it means to me.
By the time we put out the last trash bag, it's already late afternoon. Mrs. Green was kind enough to trim the grass around the porch.
Sure, the house still looks faded, but now it has new energy.
Marcus and I stand side by side outside, looking in through the now clean windows.
"This looks nice," I comment.
"It does. Thank you." Marcus brushes his shoulder with mine.
He's not yet completely recovered—neither am I, to be honest—but we're getting there...together.
"I've wanted to tell you something for days...but I was afraid of how you'd react."
"Oh?" I ask him. He nods. He looks hesitant, but I can see in his eyes that he no longer cares to wait.
He takes my hands in his big and warm ones.
"Celeste Shaw, I love you. It may be hard to believe, but I really do... with every fiber of my being." He squeezes my fingers gently.
"It's a privilege to be with you."
He meets my eyes, open and unrepentant. The sincerity in his electric blue eyes takes my breath away.
A smile spreads across my face, so broad I'm sure it'll split my jaw. I laugh with delight, feeling freer than ever.
I wind my arms around his waist, leaning back. "I know." I smile wider.
"I love you, too."
I rest my head across his chest—the thumping of his heart clear and soothing. He kisses the top of my head and turns us both to face the house.
"What do you think we should do with it? Maybe I should just sell it..."
I rest my head on his shoulder again and speak, my words soft.
"Actually...I was hoping we would keep it. This house isn't just your heritage... It's also the first place where I felt warm, welcome and safe all at the same time.
"I know it's still far away...but I want our children to know this place... their history... I want them to know where they come from and visit their grandparents often. At least the ones that matter anyway."
"Okay." It may be one word, but it conveys a promise of togetherness—of a wonderful, fulfilling, happy life together.
We're finally home.
Holy Shit. It's done.
Another day, another story.
Thank you—to each and every one of you, that stayed. Through Marcus's stupidity and Celeste's martyrdom...from wanting to push them off a cliff to cheering them on—my deepest gratitude.
Thank you, for voting, for commenting, for caring about the characters and supporting them through their grief.
There were many days when I questioned myself, the story and even the point of continuing... but it was your words of kindness, support and acknowledgement that kept me going.
As I write this note, I still can't believe it's done.
I truly hope you guys enjoyed getting to know Marcus and Celeste.
Lemme know in the comments!??
P.s. If you're curious about where their futures lead...stick around.
The epilogue drops in 6 hours.