Afterlife: Redemption

55

LANE

I had never been so anxious in the presence of my father before in my life. I had never found myself so distracted, so completely distant from him before this moment.

Usually, I found him to be one of, if not the, most relaxing person to be around. He had a calming presence, an easy and relaxed wit that made you feel at ease no matter what other issues you were facing. It was a good quality to have, since his line of work was so volatile at times. Adam was a lot like him in that regard. A natural, calming demeanor.

I was leaning on the kitchen island, perched upon a bar stool. I was leaning forward, my chin in my hand, my eyes on my father as he wandered the kitchen, making himself a snack.

"The damn hedges have been out of control this year," he commented, his eyes on the sandwich he was preparing in front of him. "Thinking I need stronger trimmers."

I grinned, but it was forced. I knew why he was so fixated on the hedges. The same reason he was five years ago. And where I now knew the real reasons behind Adams behavior, my father did not. He knew nothing of that night, the accident, and the strange connection we had to Harry.

As I watched him, my chest ached at the thought of him finding out. The idea of my father learning the truth, that his only son killed an innocent family, ran, and kept it a secret for five years, broke a piece of me. To think of his reaction, his pain and sorrow, caused my chest to heave. He was always so strong, so secure; but I knew this would break him.

I couldn't even think of what it would do to my mother. She was already struggling, already reliving the strain of five years ago thanks to Adam's behavior since my birthday. I couldn't imagine what the truth would do to her.

I couldn't seem to focus on my father, on his stories and his rambling. Any time I would listen, it would last only a moment, before thoughts of Harry upstairs at this moment filled my mind. I had yet to hear yelling, so that was a good sign. I didn't hear breaking glass or falling furniture. Again, good signs. Part of me wondered if Harry was still standing outside Adams door, trying to find the strength to go inside.

I knew I had been feeling the same way the week before when I decided to come and confront him. And my situation was completely different from his. I hadnt known his secrets. He was my brother, and in no way had I ever considered that his truth would be as horrible as it was. For Harry, it was literally facing the person who took everything from you. The person who caused your parents death, and left you to die. I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, or even fathom what he was going to do.

He hadnt even known what to say on the way here. When I asked him, the only short lived conversation exchanged between us on the drive from New York to Jersey, he simply said. 'I don't know'. I knew he was probably already had snip its in his mind, little comments or feelings he wanted to get out. But an actual speech or monologue of any kind was unlikely. Harry was impulsive, passionate and unpredictable. I had no doubt that would probably guide his confrontation style as well.

I couldn't help but wonder how Adam was going to feel to find Harry standing in front of him again. Surely, he had to know that I would tell him. That he would now know what it was he had been hiding for so long, and the strange, fucked up twist that had bound them together. How would you feel, facing the product of your mistakes? Facing the person affected by a night you had been trying to forget for years? I couldn't imagine.

It was unthinkable, for both of them.

"Do you want one?" I heard my father ask, again bringing my attention from the situation upstairs back in to the kitchen.

I found him pointing to the sandwich on the counter, a lopsided mixture of I wasn't even sure what. My father was rather eclectic in his food choices, being known in the past to take a little bit of everything to make a meal. Looking over yet another product of his creativity, I tried to keep my face impassive.