Chapter 6: Responsibilities

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Chapter Six

After all my father's men have left, we stand in silence for a while.

I can't believe my ears. My father is sick, but he hasn't told any of us? He hasn't given us any indication that he was unwell. I have heard illness can sometimes turn you into an insufferable, miserable asshole, and makes you treat those you love most infernally. But that's just my father; When isn't he an insufferable bastard to begin with?

He was lying to everybody; To me, to my sisters. To my mother, especially. Who does that? And what the fuck just happened? What was all that hand-kissing about? What was my Pa trying to accomplish?

Getting his bearings straight, my Pa sighs sadly and turns back to his desk. He extricates another cigarette from the carton, places it between his lips, and lights it. He doesn't say anything to me. He pretends almost as if I'm not there. I don't know what he expects of me; Am I meant to stand around all day in his study-room, or can I just leave already? Since he seems perfectly content pretending I don't exist, I turn to leave. Just as I reach the door, his voice calls me back. Not once before have I heard him sound so drained and weary as he does in this instance.

"Son, stay with your father for a little while."

It isn't said in that harsh, commanding tone he usually uses for me. No, now it sounds like a desperate plea from a man frightened at the thought of being left alone in a room all to himself.

"What, Pa?" I demand sharply. I don't care if I'm being rude or insensitive. I don't care if he's severely sick and near to dying. He still won't be getting any pity from me.

"I just want you to stay with me in the room for a little while." Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he turns to look at Aro bleakly. "Aro, leave us to some privacy, will you? I want to talk to my son in privacy."

Without a word, Aro leaves, closing the door gently behind himself.

I wait expectantly, raising my eyebrows for the catch to come. I know my father wants me here, I'm just not sure for what reason. He wants to talk to me in private. He even sent his most trusted man, Aro, out of the room for goodness sake. So why isn't he talking to me already?

Without sending a glance my way, Pa picks up his carton of cigarettes and stretches out his hand, offering me one. I don't take one; Smoking hasn't been a habit that I've picked on, and I have no intentions of starting anytime soon.

"What? Is that it?" I ask skeptically. "You want me in here just so I'll have a smoke with you? Is that just it, Pa?"

"Of course that isn't it," he says defensively.

"Since when do you smoke anyway? I never even knew you did."

"I started smoking since I found out I won't be alive for much longer." He contemplates the long train of ash building on his cigarette, before he bends over his desk and stabs it out in the ashtray disgustedly. "I figured since I am going to die, why not go out in a blaze of glory?"

"Well, good for you," I grumble stiffly. "How long have you known how sick you were?"

"I have known for a long time, but I was forced to keep it to myself. Your mother is a very emotional woman; You know how she gets. She would just be miserable all day long, crying and crying. I couldn't deal with that."

"And you don't think she has the right to know you're sick? She's your wife, isn't she? Shouldn't she know about this?"

Finally he turns to look at me, and his face is anguished.

"She can't know of this, son. No one can know of this; Not your mother, or your sisters. You keep it to yourself. I don't mind telling you, because you're a man, you can handle it. It is the way us men are built. Don't tell your mother."

Finally, I think I start to get it: My father isn't completely heartless after all. He's afraid of death, like everyone else on the planet. He just doesn't want anyone knowing it. He fears upsetting my mother most of all. But she had the right to know. Wasn't it sick for him to just keep it from her, pretend everything is alright?

"You can't expect me to keep this a secret, Pa, you can't. I can't keep something like this from Ma. Either you tell her the truth, or I will..."

"No," he says firmly. "No. She isn't to know."

"But she deserves to know, doesn't she?"

"No!"

"Do you want to know why it is that I really had to get away, Pa? Why it is that I chose to get far away from this place as possible? Why I chose to study in America at Dartmouth? Well, this is pretty much it! I wanted to get away from this bullshit, because I guess, I resented you! It wasn't a need to get out and study and make my own experiences, not really. It was only because I knew, deep down inside, that doing it would be the easiest way to hurt you most of all. I spite you. I... I hate you." I know this is only destroying him, but it has to be said. I can't hold it in any longer. "I think I've always hated you. I think I only just went off to America intentionally to spite you, because I knew I would be drawn into your mess. I should have never returned back here, I realize that now." Pa makes a noise that I haven't heard come from him before, but I don't care. I just don't give a shit. "Isn't it right? I shouldn't have come back here. I should have just stayed where I was, in America, with Tanya. Being back here like this... it only makes those feelings return again: The feelings I've always had for you. I despise you, Pa. Everything about you makes me sick to my stomach. I knew the best way to cut you was to leave and foil all your plans. I should have just stayed in America, and let all that you represent just rot to hell."

He makes a few more noises that I haven't heard come from my father's lungs before. He's weeping. For the first time in his own fucking life, he is actually weeping! And do I feel upset for being the cause of it? No, I don't. It's because he has made me hate him- my own father- so deeply.

"I guess I just naïvely returned here thinking I could come here, and then go back to America unscathed. But I never could, could I? No matter what, you're always dragging me into your own bullshit and think you can tell me how to run my own life! I can't live my own life, can I, Pa? At least, not in the way I want to."

"What else could I do?" he whispers morosely. "There wasn't any other choice. Your mother, your... sisters. They are out of the question."

"So you're going to drag me into your bullshit, huh?" I shout.

"I work hard for my family. Everything, this house... everything, it was earned by my hard work! You think when I die I would willingly turn everything over to anyone who isn't my family? That I would let all of this turn into nothing? Rosalie could never handle this. Alice is too young. The only man left was you. Ever since you were born, this was planned. I had a vision for you, and that was that you would carry on my business and take care of your family as a man should. Did you expect me to leave you all with nothing?"

"I don't want this, Pa! I have never wanted this! I used to envy everyone else, because their families weren't so fucked-up and wrong!" I tell him, moving towards the door. "Everything you've worked for, as far as I'm concerned, can go to dust!"

"Why are you like this?" he demands, moved to anger himself.

I freeze, my hand curled around the doorknob. I know what's coming. I just know it. Now everything is my fault, and I'm the bad son. "Like what? What am I like?"

"So ungrateful! You have always been this way, Edward. From the very moment you were born right up to what I did for you with this beautiful Isabella Italian girl, you were always ungrateful and taking everything I have worked for, for granted! Do you not care about me and continuing my wishes, as a good son should? Does your family mean that little to you?"

I whirl around to face him, feeling my face burn with hatred. "Don't bring this all onto me, Pa," I say, exhausted. "You wanted this, but I never did!"

His expression abruptly softens. "I love you, despite everything. You are my son, and I can't help but love you. There are sacrifices to everything that has to be taken. You can't escape or avoid what is in your blood. All I ask of you, as my last undying wish, is that you finally respect me and accept the hands of fate that you were dealt with here, Edward. You must resume my business, and eventually, when Isabella is with child, once that child is a masculine one, the same will be done for him for his father from generation to generation to come. This is just how it is! It's a fact of life!"

He steps closer towards me, his hands raised in the air. I know what he's about to do, and I can't stop it. I can't even get out-of-the-way in time enough when he clasps my face in his hands, embracing me tightly.

"I'm dying, Edward. My time is soon going to come to an end. This is my last wish that you promise to take care of the family, for me. Take care of your mother, and your sisters, for me. Don't let everything I have worked so hard for amount to nothing. You wouldn't do that to me, would you? I'm your old man. You may think you despise me, but have mercy on me. You wouldn't really do this to me, would you?"

I don't answer stubbornly. Still, he must see something on my face; A little tell-tale sign of me cracking under the pressure, because he sighs softly in satisfaction.

"See, you are like me, aren't you? We take care of our own. We don't let anything happen, and we don't let anybody go without. This is my last wish. Don't make me die an unhappy man."

I just let him think he is getting to me. Let him think everything is going his way.

He leans in, kisses me on the cheek loudly, and releases me. As I turn to head out of his room, he calls me back gently.

"Your wedding will be the next weekend to the lovely Isabella. I want to see you wed an Italian before I die."

I sigh with frustration through my nostrils. Asshole. Everything just has to go his way, or not at all.