“Don’t,” Percy says, from his chair.
His voice is mild, but it has an edge.
I look at him, puzzled, and then Caroline rolls her eyes. “Percy, I can talk to my brother any which way?—”
“I told you when you called me earlier that we won’t be discussing this,” Percy rebukes softly, but his eyes are telling a whole other story.
Rage punches through my chest when I realize what they’re talking about.
Caroline does the adult version of stomping her feet, which is even less attractive on her than on a toddler. “I was only going to say?—“
“The divorce papers,” David interjects, because my brother has never once in his life read a room accurately. “I mean, is that still on the table or does this change the?—“
I turn and face my brother.
I am aware, from a distance, of Percy going still, of my mother straightening slightly, and of Caroline making a small, sharp movement because once those words are out, she understands this was a miscalculation—a big one.
I take a step, then another, until I’m face-to-face with my brother. I’m four inches taller than him.
“Say that again.”
David’s Adam’s apple bobs. “I’m just asking if the accident changes the timeline for the?—“
“My wife,” I say, and my voice is very quiet, which is the register it goes to when I am at the end of something, when the management has run out and the polish of stoicism has completely faded, “is in the ICU with brain swelling and four fractured ribs, and a machine breathing for her, and you are asking me about divorce papers.”
“Archibald—“ my mother begins.
“No.” I turn to face her. I let her see all of it—not the managed version, not the composed version, the actual thing, which is enormous and ugly and has been building for hours. She recognizes it because she knows it well, as my father covered up a similar persona. “No,Mother. Not right now. Notever, in a context like this, but certainly not right now, so if that is why you came?—“
“That is not why we came,” my mother cuts in, with dignity.
“Then what would you like to discuss?” I look from her to David to Caroline and back, my eyes narrowed, my intensity feral, even if my tone is even. “Because I have nothing available for anything that is not about making sure my wife does not die,so if you have something other than that to offer, I am genuinely asking.”
Only David is idiotic enough to speak. “Come on, man, it’s?—”
“David,” Mother interjects sharply.
He shuts up, still confused as to why talking about what he’s talking about is so taboo. The man is a fucking moron. I’m being held together by nothing but coffee and terror, and he wants to talk about divorce and asset division.
Mother places a hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry this happened, Archibald. I hope she gets better soon.”
It is the most unperformed thing she has said to me in years.
I nod stiffly.
“Why don’t you all go now?” Percy suggests. “I’ll call if anything changes.”
All three of them look so relieved that it’s almost comical. They hurry out with quick goodbyes.
I sit back down.
“You told them about Lucy?”
“Margaret called me—she’d heard about the accident,” he explains.
“She didn’t call me.” I know why. She wanted a softer landing for her questions about the divorce, and she hoped to find it with Percy.
“No,” Percy agrees and then lifts a shoulder. “They came. That’s something.”
