Page 9 of Sinner (Priest 2)
“Look, Tinkerbell,” I add, knowing the nickname drives him crazy, “no one blames you for having a life in another state. Mom is super proud of whatever it is you do—”
“Write books,” Tyler interjects dryly.
“—And whatever it is that Poppy does in Manhattan—”
“An arts nonprofit. Do you actually even listen to me when I talk?”
“Sure don’t. So don’t feel guilty for not coming out, okay? If I honestly thought it was time for you to fly out, I’d buy your fucking ticket myself. But it’s not time.”
“My worry is that you won’t be able to admit it to yourself when it is time,” Tyler says carefully. “Much less tell me.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
A pause, and I know Tyler’s sifting through his words, and that pisses me off even more. “I don’t need fucking kid gloves,” I snap. “Just say whatever it is you want to say.”
“Fine,” he says, and I’m a bit pleased to hear that I’ve made him snappish too. “I think you haven’t dealt with the fact that Mom’s going to die.”
“Everybody’s going to die, kiddo. Or did you forget that part of being a priest?”
“Sean, I’m serious. I know you think this boils down to having the best doctors, the best treatments—the most money—but those things might not change anything. You get that, right? That you can’t control what happens next?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My hand is gripping the phone so hard I can feel the edges of the glass pressing against my fingerbones.
“There’s no agenda for life, there’s no itinerary, there’s no strategic plan,” Tyler continues. “Everything can go perfectly…until it doesn’t, and there’s nothing we can do to change it. There’s nothing you can do to change it. Don’t you see that?”
“I see that you’ve given up on Mom already, and you aren’t even fucking here to actually know how she’s doing.”
“It’s okay to feel angry,” Tyler tells me quietly. “And lost.”
“Don’t do that priest shit with me,” I hiss, pacing across the room, wishing he were here, because I’d hit him, I’d hit him right in his fucking know-it-all mouth. “You’re not my fucking priest, Tyler. You’re not even a priest at all anymore.”
“Maybe not,” he replies calmly, “but I’m still your brother. I still love you. And God still loves you.”
I snort. “Then He needs to try a little fucking harder.”
“Sean—”
“I’ve got to go. I told Aiden I’d call.”
And then I hang up before Tyler can answer, which is a dick move I know, but he was a dick first, bringing fucking God into this. A god I don’t believe in, a god I hate, a god who let one of his priests hurt my sister over and over again, and then instead of comforting her, let her cinch a noose around her nineteen-year-old neck to escape the pain. A god who’s now killing my mother in the slowest, most dehumanizing way possible.
Fuck Tyler and fuck his god, I don’t need either of them and neither does Mom.
“Mr. Bell?”
I look up to see someone in scrubs standing at the door.
“Yes?” I say hoarsely.
“Your mother’s in the post-op ward now, and she’s sleeping, but she’s doing great. Would you like to come up and sit with her?”
“Of course.” And I go to my mother, leaving all of Tyler’s lectures and my anger at God behind, knowing they’ll be waiting for me when I come back.
Chapter Three
Harry Valdman is a selfish, greedy asshole who cheats on his wife, ignores his children, and routinely swindles people out of their hard-earned money—but he’s a fairly decent boss. As long as I bring in lots of money, he doesn’t care what I do or how often I’m in the office, which has been immensely helpful over the last eight months since Mom was diagnosed and I became Son in a Leading Cancer Role. I’ve still been nailing big deals and even bigger clients left and right, even if I’m doing most of my work now from various infusion rooms.
So I assume it won’t be a problem when I leave a message with his secretary that I won’t be in to the office that day, but then I get a call back from Trent the Secretary right away.
