Page 57 of Masked Sins
“I don’t care about money,” Kai grits out. “I just want to do some good in the world to rebalance the scales.”
“You want to do some good? Good things come to those who work hard, Malakai.”
“I don’t need money or material things. Julian says that discontent is not satisfied by material things?—”
“Julian?” my dad hisses. “Do you mean that flamboyant boy you constantly surround yourself with?—”
“I hope you don’t expect me to sit here and let you insult my best friend.” Kai, who is usually so even-tempered, instantly pushes away from the table.
“Very well,” my dad muses. “You are welcome to leave.”
“Fine,” Kai sputters, throwing his napkin down.
“Don’t think that you can ever come back with that attitude.”
My mouth drops open, and when I look over at Chase, his eyes are wide as they flick between our dad and our middle brother.
“Very well. I’ll go say goodbye to Mom and pack my things.”
As Kai storms off, my father takes another sip of his straight vodka. Pointing a steak knife at Chase, his face is still transfigured with brute anger.
“Eat your steak, Chase. Don’t let it get cold.”
I look down and eat as my father and my older brother do the same, knowing that for the rest of my life, I will have to regulate my emotionsandthe emotions of my father, or risk being ostracized.
I think back to my father’s question: “Then why the hell do you still talk to me?”
My father’s a narcissist, and I know that now. Growing up, we were enmeshed as a family—always touting closeness but never really having it. We were stuck together in an unhealthy dynamic until my mother chose to leave him right after Chase went to college, taking me with her. It wasn’t until I was older that I began to look at my dad as someone who gave me life rather than a father figure. We weren’t close, but we weren’tnotclose either.
And I suppose I always felt like I had to keep that tether to him because he’d never done anything to givemea reason to walk away from him. I know my brothers feel differently, but I always justified it because of that.
One of the first realizations when I got sober was that my seeing him probably hurt my brothers, and I’d been too deluded with alcohol to see it. I never really stopped to consider why they had to walk away from him. If they did, they must’ve had damn good reasons for doing so.
I still hadn’t had the courage to have a real conversation about it.
Maybe one day, I’d ask what happened to make them walk away.
“You’re so much like her,” my dad adds, shaking his head. “Your mother. Always worried about hurting my feelings. At least have the balls to walk away like your brothers did.”
His voice changes tone in the last few words, and he looks away.
“You think I’m scared to go no-contact like them?” I ask incredulously. “You don’t scare me, Dad.”
He turns to face me with narrowed eyes. “Then why are you here, Orion?”
It hits me then—yes, he’s cruel, but he’s alsoscared.Knowing that… makes him seem so much smaller than I’ve ever seen him.
“Because you’re dying,” I say simply. “Even the worst criminal doesn’t deserve to die alone.”
He huffs a laugh before breaking into a coughing fit. The cancer is in his lungs now, and he’s been coughing up blood for days.
“You’re a better person than I am,” he says after a minute, closing his eyes.
“I know,” I tell him.
I’m not sure I believe it, but I’m working on it.
“And how’s the ballet dancer?” he asks, looking away.
