Page 6 of Bingeworthy
He shrugs. “Easy. Move back home and figure it out. Your parents won’t mind.”
“Not a chance of that happening.”
“They want the best for you. You shouldn’t be too proud to ask them for help.”
I sit with this for several minutes and try to enjoy the drive. But man, that’s annoying. What business is it of his how I live my life?
Still, he has a point.
“I do have a question for you,” he says after a long silence. “Why’d you say my picking you up is a blessing in disguise? Disguised as what?”
Uh oh.
“You know.”
“Explain it to me.”
“Mr. Burlington…”
“Rocco.”
“Rocco,” I repeat. “I haven’t seen you since…”
I stop myself before I go any further.
I stare out the window at the rolling hills, wishing I hadn’t gone down this road in the conversation.
“You were about to say you hadn’t seen me since Matthew’s arrest,” Rocco says.
I swallow. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“It’s fine to bring it up,” he insists.
Internally, I question this. It is? Is it fine to talk about this while we’re hurtling down the winding highway at high speeds?
After all these years of Rocco retreating into the shadows, and all these years of me avoiding any contact with or conversations about any of the Burlingtons, is now a good time?
“How is he?”
“Better. Completed rehab and was a model prisoner. Did everything his parole officer told him to do. He went to community college and learned turf management, and now he’s getting married next summer.”
Rocco’s sentences are clipped and gruff, but it’s the most I’ve heard this man speak in one sitting…ever.
Guilt washes over me. I should have kept tabs on the family. Should have tried to do something nice. I could have extended an ounce of compassion.
“That must have been difficult for you…for him…I was so surprised at his sentence. I assumed…”
“You assumed I would have made sure he got a slap on the wrist.”
I swallow. “I mean…that’s the way it usually goes with…”
Once again, I stop myself before I finish that sentence. Rocco knows what I’m getting at. “With most privileged kids whose parents can afford expensive attorneys,” he finishes.
I groan and bite my lip. Somehow, I’m putting my foot in my mouth without saying anything.
Rocco heaves a sigh. “It was his first drunk driving arrest. But not his first brush with the law. I told him I wasn’t going to call on any of the lawyers in the family anymore. He chose to drink, chose to steal a car. And, Matthew could have put your life in danger. He then chose to drive that car into a cemetery and cause tens of thousands of dollars in damage. I told him he needed to pull himself out of that mess, because his mother and I were not going to rescue him anymore. He did, his public defender was an absolute rookie, and the judge threw the book at Matthew.”
Anxious to stop reliving the nightmare of that night, I point out, “But you know I wasn’t in the car with him when he drove drunk. You know the story. When I didn’t want to leave the dance to go drink with his friends, Matthew got upset and left me there. I was never in danger. No one was hurt that night. He’s better. And I’m happy for him.”
