Page 63 of Gary

“Please don’t leave.”

Gary’s eyes flashed. “I cannot vent to you. Cannot tell you what the hell I am feeling, how I wish to God that I had never been born in this family. That being a Moretti is constantly ruining my frigging life.” He took a deep breath. “So, since I cannot very well say what’s on my mind, I think it’s best I take my leave.”

“I am not a shrinking violet.”

“No, you are sick man who had an episode, right after he came home from the hospital, and I am not going to be responsible for causing a relapse.”

They both lapsed into silence that had Gary turning back to look out the window. It looked bleak, the ominous gray sky mirroring his mood. He had received the call from his uncle telling him about his father’s episode, which was nothing but a panic attack, but it had left him weak and slightly disoriented.

He had left the site and rushed here to see him. Now that he had, he wanted to be as far away as possible. He promised the woman he loved to drop by the shop and help her decorate for Thanksgiving.

“Who says I know anything about decorating?” He had asked her teasingly.

“You can just sit there and watch me.”

“I am sorry.”

His shoulders stiffened as the humble voice broke the silence.

“For what?” He bit out without turning around.

“For everything. I know I will never be able to make amends…”

“No, you never will.”

Grant blanched. “Will you tell her?”

He turned then. “Unlike you dad, I don’t believe in living a lie. Yes, I will tell her and when I do, it will be all over.”

“You were never involved…,” he held out an entreating hand. “You can try and explain…”

“I already lied to her. She knows me as Gary Russo…” He glanced at the bedside clock. “I have to go.”

“Will you be back?” Grant asked beseechingly.

He stopped at the door. “We’ll see.”

The slight closing of the doors sounded as loudly as if they had been slammed shut.

Grant carefully eased himself up against the pillows and reached for the handy glass of water the nurse had placed on the side table.

Taking several sips, he put away the glass. Very soon the nurse would be coming in to check on him and to find out if he wanted anything. He hoped that she stayed away for ten more minutes. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

His son hated him. In the past, it had been nothing to him. He had considered himself to be powerful and mighty. No one would dare go against his wishes. Until Gary turned thirteen and he had seen signs of willfulness.

“Beat it out of him,” George had advised in his usual blunt manner, “it’s not going to look good if your teenage son disobeys you. We are in the business of making people fear us. It will look bad if you cannot handle a snot nosed kid. No matter, if he’s your son.”

So, he had punished the boy for tiny infractions, like leaving his toys scattered in the play area or refusing the whores he brought home as gifts. But Gary had stood up to him, the beatings only making him more defiant. His mother had stood by him as well as his uncle Graham.

Eventually, he had punished his wife and the boy by sending him to boarding school in the UK.

Puffing out a shuddering breath, he leaned his head back, the tears leaking from his closed eyelids. Now he was paying for his sins in spades. He had never considered the consequences of his actions. He had done as he pleased.

Hurting people, causing harm, doing despicable things, and never realizing that the time would come when he had to pay for his sins. Now, he was in bed, dying and had lost his son. He had seen the look on the boy’s face, the haunted misery, the anger, the pain. And there was nothing he could do to ease any of it.

Rubbing his hand over his chest, he wished for death. He was no use to anyone, was he? All he had to show for was misery and a life that he was not proud of. If he died now, he would not be missed. Not by his brother, his son, not even his employees.

He had treated them with scant disregard for their feelings. He swallowed the lump in his throat and felt his chest expanding. If there was a God and he had never believed much in one before, he was hoping that he was merciful, and death would come quickly.