Page 140 of Malachi
“Didn’t we just play that game?” I asked with a chuckle, my hands pulling her pajama top up so that I could feel her soft skin beneath.
“Let’s call it round two then,” she shrugged in my arms.
“I suppose I could be persuaded,” I gave in after a moment’s thought.
“Hey Malachi?” she called after a moment.
“Yes, Eden?” I responded hesitantly.
“Run.”
EPILOGUE
LEVITICUS
Two years later.
“Leviticus Temple, here to see inmate number 8492,” I announced quietly to the security guard behind the thick-paned glass partition.
“Visitor for Titus Temple. I’ll buzz you in,” she announced, clicking her mouse a few times on her computer before the obnoxious buzzing filled the room. I stepped past the security monitors, passing through with no issue, until a security guard joined me, ready to lead me to my father.
My heart thundered in my chest, rattling against my ribcage as I walked down the long hallway behind the security guard towards the holding room where I was to meet with my father. It had been two years; two long, incredible years since I had seen the man. Since any of us had. As much as I would have rather never seen him again, this was necessary.
My therapist and I had gone over it time and time again, and had finally decided that it should happen. I had things I needed to say to him. Once I said what needed to be said, I could hopefully close the chapter of my life that had been Zion and move forward, through my trauma and out of it for good.
My brothers had told me it was a bad idea. Hell, Gideon had tried to talk me out of it for months, but I had made up my mind. Our lawyer would be present, and the conversation would be under my complete control. If not, I would simply leave. I could do that. Titus Temple, on the other hand, did not.
The sound of the buzzer letting me into the private room was stark and jarring. The lawyer had already arrived and my father sat at the table in the center of the room. He looked more haggard and old than I had ever seen him. His once carefully coiffed hair was now long and scraggly, with a wispy, poor excuse for a beard covering the lower half of his face where he had always kept it clean shaven before.
The vibrant orange of his jumpsuit was stark against his skin, making him look sickly and sallow. He honestly looked as though he had aged ten years instead of only two.
“Leviticus, you came,” my father’s voice sounded from the center of the room, surprised evident in his voice.
It was true. Our father had requested a meeting with me several times over the past two years, but I had never accepted that request. In truth, he had attempted to get each of us brothers to visit. Gideon had gone so far as to burn every letter he’d received. Not one of us had any desire to acknowledge our father even existed, let alone entertain the idea of meeting with him, ever. The only reason I was here was to close this chapter for good.
Our father died a long time ago, in Zion,Ollie had stated, nearly a year ago. When I had tried to argue with him, Ollie had only doubled down.He’s dead to me, Levi. Let it go,he had insisted. And from that day on, I never pushed the issue again.
“Titus,” I addressed my father for the first time in two years. There was an icy chill in my demeanor, the only way I knew how to deal with him.
“I’ll just sit here in case you need me,” the lawyer muttered quietly, pointing to the chair at the side of the room. The only remaining seat was the one across the table from my father. I swallowed hard, pushing down the emotion bubbling up at the first sight of him after all this time.
“I’m so glad you agreed to meet with me. It’s been so long and —” he began.
“I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” I spat through clenched teeth.
“Leviticus,” he scoffed. I could tell that a reprimand was on the tip of his tongue.
“No,” I snapped, cutting him off. “Here’s how this is going to go down. I am going to speak, and you are going to listen. If you refuse to abide by these conditions, I will stand up and walk out of that door and you will never see me again.”
I worried for a moment that this would all be over before it had even begun. That he would argue and force my hand, leaving me with words unsaid that I needed to say in order to shut this chapter of my past, to move on from this part of my life. After a moment, he nodded, agreeing to my terms, and I felt a wave of relief hit me.
My father sat back in the chair, managing to make the movement look defensive without a single word being spoken. With a wave of his hand, he indicated for me to continue.
“I want to be perfectly clear. The reason I’m here — the only reason — is because I have something to say to you,” I began.
“Leviticus,” he interrupted me. It was his tone, that same one he had used every day my entire life, and it set my teeth on edge.
“Last warning. Speak again and I walk out that door,” I warned, my hands fisting on my thighs as I spoke.
