“What part?” Nadia laughs without humor.
“If we open that can of worms, we’d be here till the bar’s opening,” I say, bringing my knees up off the floor and wrapping my arms around them. “And that wouldn’t even coverhalfof it.”
“So, we ignore it?” Nik asks. I can sense his eyes on my profile, but I don’t look back at him. “How’s that working out for everyone?”
“Fine,” Nadia and I answer at the same time.
“Sure.” Nik sighs.
I swallow the question I’ve wanted to ask a hundred timesbefore, but it’s harder than it normally is. The urge toboltbuzzes under my skin, like a force bigger than me is desperate to pull me away. I stare at the blank wall, counting cement blocks while forcing thoughts away that I try to never allow. Thoughts of closed doors and muffled cries and the crack of a belt.
“Did”—the word falls out of my mouth, and tugs another along with it, ending the long, dreadful silence—“did Dad—”
“Yes,” Nik answers, interrupting as if he couldn’t hold it in another second. “Me too,” he chokes out, then clears his throat. “He hurt me too.”
I never expected, never wanted, to havethisconversation with my siblings today. And the sickening feeling that follows Nik’s answer, one that I’d hoped against but always suspected, makes bile crawl up my throat.
“I can’t do this,” Nadia says before standing up and walking off down the hall toward the delivery entrance.
“I should go after—”
“Mi,” Nik pleads as I stand to follow Nadia. “Mi, c’mon, let’s finally justsayit. Let’s get it out.”
I drag my foot on the floor, drawing an imaginary line in the space between us. “I don’t think so, man.” I look up hesitantly, meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry. This is justwaytoo much for me.” A tear falls off my chin before I even realize it was there. I turn in the direction Nadia just took off in and follow her lead.
“For fuck’s sake,whenare you going to stop running?” Nik calls after me as I hear his boots hit the ground, following me.
Not today, that’s for damn sure.
“Milo, c’mon, come back.”
I walk right out of the brewery, grabbing a six-pack on my way out the door, as Nik continues to call after me. I walk past Nadia, who’s lighting a cigarette as she begins pacing at the edge of the parking lot, looking out into the street, ignoring us both.
Without thinking, I find myself in Prue’s backyard, unsure of where else to go. Hot-faced and eyes stinging with tears, I make my way down to her dock, and plant myself at the end of it, watching the water come in and out as I drink myself into a deeper hole.
My dad was,is,a mean bastard. A cruel and unkind man. That’s a truth I’ve come to accept. One that I’ve confessed to a dozen strangers sharing my bed and even begun to unpack with a handful of them. But I’ve not confronted the actual reality of it in a very, very long time. The three broken people raised in that house that eventually got out, some sooner than others.
Avoiding the topic only makes it all the more real. All the more deadly. But talking about it could feel worse. And I can’t even fathom what that would feel like.
“Milo?” Tom’s peppy voice calls out from the top of the steep hill. “Milo, is that you, son?”
Fuck.
“Yeah,” I say, waving over my shoulder. “Hi, I’m sorry, sir, I—”
“Is my daughter expecting you?”
“Not exactly,” I reply, lowering my beer to the space between my knees.
Tom nods, then begins making his way down. I turn back around, listening intently to his footsteps on the rocky stairs, remembering the nights when I’d count my father’s footfalls in the hallway, frozen in fear. With every step Tom takes, I stare into the water, considering if throwing myself into the lake would get me out of the mess I’ve made by coming here.
“Any of those left?” he asks, joyful in his approach.
“No, sorry,” I say, finishing off the last can with a final sip.
“Are we celebrating or commiserating?” Tom brushes off the back of his legs before groaning, lowering himself to sit next to me. I keep my stare focused on the other side of the lake, and theboat passing by, as the sun ducks behind a row of pine trees in the distance.
“Sorry, sir. I can—”
