“These are my friends, and as an outsider I have an even better perspective of what you are attempting to do.”
“Oh now—”
“These people are neither bribable nor malleable, so take some advice from someone who has recently learned both these things, and leave. When you do, tell my father to find someone else to do his dirty work.”
“We don't take advice from you.” Color flushed Mr. Ryan's cheeks.
“You should.”
He felt everyone's eyes on him as he took Billy from Macy, then held a hand under her arm to get her out of the seat, and he didn't care how it looked.
“Let's go.”
Macy looked ready to drop where she stood. She didn't argue, and he could tell that the night's events had taken their toll on her, coupled with the death of her father.
They said good night, then started walking. He carried Billy draped over his shoulder, and Macy walked silently at his side.
“Your father is a real piece of work.”
“And then some,” Brad said.
“Must have been hard on your mom.”
“Sure, but she could have pushed back. Instead she chose the easy route.”
The air was cooling, but it felt good. The people had thinned, most still at the carnival, and soon it was just them walking up Macy's street. If he didn’t have all the other shit going on inside his head, he could say this picture was damn near perfect. Holding the little warm body nestled in his arms, and with the woman he liked, strongly, and possibly, maybe cared more for, at his side.
“It takes a strong person to stand up against that, especially if you've lived with it your entire life.”
“But she should have fought harder when her children came along.” Brad was surprised by his words. Maybe surprised wasn't the right word, as he'd thought them often enough. The surprise was that he said them out loud.
“She should have, but again that takes strength, and maybe it was something she didn't have much of as she'd never believed herself strong.”
“Don't protect her, Macy. She likes the lifestyle and what my father's money brings. There was nothing to stop her loving us more.”
He saw the house rising above all the others.
“That's an ugly house,” he said, to draw her attention away from him.
“Don't go after my house because you don't like the topic of conversation.”
Her words were calm, but he was pleased to hear the bite in them.
“How about, I don't want to talk about my mother then?”
“At least that's honest, but as I don't want to talk about me, or my house, you're the other option.”
“Can we not talk about either?”
“Sure, but then I've had several veins sliced open tonight. Fair’s fair.”
“Macy.” He sighed.
“So, your mother didn't love you?”
“I didn't say that.”
They walked up her driveway. She dug into her bag, and he heard her hands rummaging through the contents.
