Page 30 of Deja New
“—no misunderstanding—”
“—in that shitty little drug warren.”
“—on my end. Any of our ends.”
“Not your father.”
“Yes. Got it. But, again: We have to deal with whatis.”
But her mom wasn’t listening. “So that doesn’t come as a surprise to you? That I wanted your uncle dead?”
“No, but it’s good to receive confirmation. I guess.”
“And now I’ve reiterated.”
“But d’you know what else was a surprise, Mom? You taking Dad’s death so hard. The others are too young to remember, but you guys used to fight. A lot.”
“About your uncle! About how he was an irresponsible junkie shithead we all should have stayed away from.”
“Not just about— Well, yes, you fought about Dennis. But I remember Dad wanting some space, and you weren’t having it.”
She snorted. “He wanted a lot more than that, but this isn’t about him.”
Um. It’s not? Isn’t EVERYTHING about my dead dad?
“It’s about you wasting your life. It’s about how even though you know how I felt back then and how I still feel, you’restilltrying to save Dennis! You’ve pissed away years trying to save someone who was always worthless. How can youdothat?”
For several seconds, Angela could only gape at the enraged banana before her. “That’s why you withdrew from me? From all of us? Even Jack, and he was little more than a baby at the time! You’ve been... what? Sulking? ‘She’s ignoring my wishes, I’ll ignore hers’? For ten years? Seriously?”
The banana deflated. “I can never make you understand.”
Back atcha, Mom.“Did you ever like Uncle Dennis?” Angela remembered very little of pre-murder Dennis. Whenever she thought of him, post-murder Dennis was always at the forefront. As best she could recall, he’d been the fun uncle, the guy who was always up for anything. But to a kid, that could mean going to Dairy Queen after 9:00 p.m. How wild and crazy had he really been when she looked at him through the lens of time?
As if her mother could read her mind, she said, “He was always a pain in your father’s ass. And mine.”
Yes. That message is loud and that message is clear.“I know... I remember you used to tell us how jealous he was of Dad.”
Her mother shook her head. “It was more than envy. He wanted tobeyour father. And sometimes, your father wanted to be him, if you can believe it.”
Hmm. That was a new take on the old story. “I rememberhe was always happy to drop everything and have fun with us. Even when Jack was just a baby, he’d bundle us all in his car—”
“Your father’s old car. Which he took. Often without asking.”
“—and off we’d go.”
“Yes. So he could pretend he had what your father did.”
“Or maybe they were just brothers who shared their stuff?”
Mom shook her head.
“So all the fun things he did for us, they were only ever about him? Dennis never loved us because we were just symbols? Because that’s harsh, even for you.”
“No. Harsh is stealing what other people have and pretending it was yours all along. It’s almost as bad as just coveting what others have.”
Here was a well of bitterness Angela had never suspected. It was one thing to loathe your husband’s killer. It was another to realize the loathing had always been there, long before the murder. “For example?”
“Well.” Up came the hand again, fiddling, fiddling. The neck of her gown was starting to fray. “He—he ruined your father’s credit rating!”
