Blood

3. Unpacking the Family Baggage

He'd heard it too. The tap tap of footsteps on the walk and the jingling of keys. I was surprised. Usually I'm the one who hears things before anyone else does. I have really good hearing. But maybe it came from him.

The front door swung open and I could hear Mom shedding her overcoat and dropping her shoulder bag full of whatever real estate agents carry around. Listing sheets, mostly. "How was school, Honey?" she called. 

Then she reached the kitchen doorway and said, "Shit!"

There was a loud shattering noise. She'd dropped her latest expensive cell phone on the tile floor and broken the glass cover, but she didn't seem to notice as she stared at the leather-skinned older man with the beer bottle in his hand and his boots propped up on a chair. "What the hell are you doing here! You're supposed to be DEAD!!!"

"Ah," he said. "The memorial service." He put the beer bottle down. "But that was years ago, and you didn't come to it."

"My parents went! Did you fake your own death?!?"

"There was a bit of unpleasantness I wanted to leave behind."

"My parents were very upset that your life insurance went to some cousin nobody had heard of in Morocco. A million dollars! I suppose it was actually you?"

He shrugged.

"Figures! And here I am with a deadbeat for an ex-husband and still paying off my college loan debt!" She was really worked up.

"Wait, did you and Dad really divorce?" I demanded.

"Stay out of this, Falcon. What are you doing alive and why are you here! You can't stay here. Have you been talking to her? Has he been talking to you, Falcon? He's dangerously crazy! And he's leaving. Now!"

"Nice to see you too," he said. "Sorry about your ex-husband. Is he suing for support? He was sponging off you all along, I beat."

"Bet," I interjected. Couldn't help myself.

"You're one to talk!" my mom hissed, ignoring me. "And you even drink the same beer as him!" she glared at the bottle in his hand. "I'll call you a taxi. You'll be on a plane in an hour."

"Shall I take care of your ex-husband?" He raised a long, thin eyebrow. "You and I are bound by blood, after all, and it is traditionalized to take care of one's own."

"Take care of...?" My mom looked horrified. "God only knows what that might entail! Give me your suitcase. I'll put it out on the sidewalk along with you. You can wait there until a taxi comes."

"Uber, my dear. All the cab companies have gone out of business in this town. What's for dinner? I've been traveling for days. I'm ravaging."