Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) (12 page)

“Dad, your cynicism now is worse than ever, if that is even possible.”

“Do you tell your mom that, too? Give her the same third degree and quiz her about her beliefs?”

“Oh, now I get it.” Joel smirked and nodded his head up and down as if he’d figured out a great mystery that had baffled mankind for centuries. “This is about Mom and you splitting, isn’t it? It’s
always
about Mom, Dad.”

“How did we go from expired juice last weekend, to ghosts, to Peter Jones, to life and death, to the afterlife, to God, and to my and your mother’s divorce? Besides, God and your mother are opposites. Ohhhh! I get it now! You want to play a game of opposites.”

“Not funny.”

“Oh, it’s funny…it’s
damn
funny.” He chuckled, though a kernel of indignation nestled inside of him as he sensed the initial burn of irritation.

“You’ve lost faith because of the divorce. Just admit it.” Joel’s fist clenched and unclenched as if he wanted to throw down, go toe to toe and have a fight to the finish.

“Don’t even go there.” Sloan’s eyes narrowed on the fucker, and he pointed at him. “You’re the one who insisted on coming up this weekend, and then, as soon as you hit the door, you jumped right into the same argument we had last week. I don’t want to talk about your mother and me, so just drop it.” He took another leisurely sip of his coffee, wishing it were strong enough to make the whole damn morning fade to black.

“You
never
want to talk about it, Dad. You’re not the same anymore… If it’s not Mom and the divorce, then what the hell happened?”

Sloan did little except stare into his son’s eyes, now a little more glossy than they were previously, as if he were holding back angry tears. He hated how emotional Joel got sometimes, not because he found his son pathetic for being in such a state, but because it must’ve been quite freeing to allow himself to feel so deeply, a luxury he was never afforded. Regardless, he felt uncomfortable when people cried around him, especially if he believed he was to blame.

“Nothing happened, Joel.” He sighed, barely able to get the lying words out.

“Oh, something definitely happened, Dad. Your attitude over the past year is proof that you are upset every second of the damn day. When are you gonna go back to normal, huh? When will the sulking and anger stop and let you get on with your life? When am I goin’ to get my dad back?”

All right, you fucking brat, you asked for it…

“You know what’s funny to me, Joel?” A thick meanness stepped within him like a tea bag in hot water. “Your complete lack of a grasp of reality. You act as if I have time to entertain fairytales in my day-to-day life.”

“I never said—”

“When I’m not writing, I’m paying
your
bills, making public appearances and doing what’s needed in this thing we call life. Ever heard of it? Not the afterlife, but the right here and fucking now!” he roared, pressing his fingertip onto the table. “Your life is like my books, but I just don’t have that indulgence to dance along the arch of rainbows, okay? I have no time for myths, only certainties.”

“So now you’re attacking me because I’m standing up to you.” The young man’s voice shook as the words curled out from between his lips. It only angered Sloan all the more.

“You’re not standing up to me, you’re trying to make me conform to what you want and believe! It’s like we’ve reversed roles right this second, and you think you can be the father and dole out advice while you put your hand out and keep askin’ for money! You can’t be dependent and independent at the same goddamn time!” His voice echoed throughout the place, and Joel jumped a bit as he raged on.

“Joel, you think easy street is a choice, like a bunch of us choose struggle versus a good time laughing and partying, right? The good life is a neighborhood, a place we all could live in if we just give it the ol’ college try!”

“No I don’t, and I never said that.”

“Yeah, ya do and ya didn’t have to say it. Unlike my son here, who lives his life in a kid’s strawberry scented bath bubble, my bubble of joy burst years before you were even born. It’s called the cold, hard fuckin’ facts of life.” Joel grimaced and rolled his eyes, but kept his lips sealed shut. “I have to deal with
real
things in my life, in my own way. Like wellness… and to answer the question you posed to me last week, that’s why I’m here, in this house.”

“You’re here to deal with real things in life?” Joel’s lips twisted to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest, a look of disbelief tattooed across his face.

“No, for my mental sanity.” He took a deep breath. “I needed to leave, to start over. I’m stressed tha hell out. My new fame I wasn’t prepared for and I’ve got a publisher who reminds me about timelines every five fucking minutes.”

“But you—”

He put his hand up like a stop sign. “I have to worry about making sure Michelle graduates college and that her tuition and books are paid, and that she’s in a safe car that can get her from point A to point B, so she and my grandson are safe…because that’s what a father does. I’m not a martyr, but you’re so damn ungrateful sometimes, it’s like you forget what I’m tryna do here.” Joel lowered his head and looked away, as if ashamed… but Sloan knew better. “I work hard and bend over backwards for you and ya sister, so
excuse
me, Joel, the great noble one that dances along the dew covered leaves of four-leaf clovers, if you can’t have me for every damn minute at your beckon call and I’m not exactly what you want me to be!”

He swallowed a glob of spit that had formed in the back of his throat while he drowned in fury. He could barely make out his son anymore; he seemed miles away, as if something were blocking his view, standing between them. Taking a deep breath, he grasped at the withered strands of his composure, trying desperately to piece something together that would calm him down, reel him back in.

“I think you’re being rather unfair with your analysis, Dad.”

Sloan looked at his son for a moment, and then another. Joel sounded pulled together, as if his manipulative fit of sorrow hadn’t just occurred.

“My analysis? My life isn’t a scientific study. I’ve come to terms with myself. Joel, I suggest you do the same. You wanted to talk so…” He shrugged. “Now we’re talking.”

“And I’m glad we are. I know you’re mad, but at least you’re opening up and discussing this stuff with me. I appreciate it, believe it or not.”

Sloan ran his hand real slow across the kitchen table, back and forth, back and forth as he began to relax.

“What have you been thinking about while here so far?” Joel asked. “I mean, besides work of course.”

“I needed time to look at my life and sort things out. Life is not a playground where I just happened to fall off the swing; no, I was
pushed
the fuck off.” The peaceful reprieve he’d mustered was short lived. “But I’m tryin’, contrary to your perception; I am trying to get things together, Joel.” Taking a long, deep breath, he once again attempted to control his strange emotions. He hadn’t felt such anger and despair in a long while. It was rather debilitating, and yet liberating all the same.

“Obviously not,” his son stated smugly. “You haven’t smiled in months and now you’re bitter…a bitter middle-aged man who—”

“And I’m allowed to be!” His voice echoed in the place; the walls grabbed it, absorbed it, and stored it for safekeeping. “For once in my life, I can feel how I feel and not say sorry about it or hide it altogether. No one can tell me to put on a happy face and be done with it. I’m done pretending to be okay, Joel, and you can’t have it both ways. You want me to smile through it all, and let it out, too. You tryna make me have a damn split personality.”

“You already do.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sloan slouched in his seat.

“You know what it means… you’re either the best or the worst.” Joel’s brows bunched, while Sloan scowled at him, his anger filling the room.

“And so are you… so what’s your damn point?”

Sloan hadn’t planned to duke it out with his eldest child, his only son. The visit was supposed to be pleasant, a chance to catch up and re-do the previous weekend that had been chock full of arguments. They’d intended to throw back some beers and enjoy one another for a few days—best laid plans that never materialized.

Joel got up slowly from his seat and walked away. The man-child leaned against the wall and simply glared at him, itching with indignation. He felt so detached, broken.

Sloan didn’t want to hurt his son. He’d been avoiding such a skirmish for months, but it was happening, and there was no turning back now…

“Why can’t Nikki
call more, huh? It ain’t even right for her to be in the military in the first place,” Sugar protested into the phone as she gnawed noisily on the end of a pickle. Her smacking grated on Emerald’s nerves.

“You’ve said that a few times now and I’m not sure you think that because you’re protective of her or because it has something to do with you thinking Nikki can’t handle the responsibility.”

“It ain’t for either of those reasons.” The old woman swallowed hard, then continued, “It’s because that’s no place for a lady.” Emerald sighed and propped her legs up on her bed, praying that they’d soon stop aching. She’d been on her feet for six hours straight due to three back to back root canals. They were swollen and red, tender to the touch. She couldn’t fathom the thought of standing on them for even a second longer.

“Sugar, women are in the military, all right? All branches, positions, doing everything, and they do just as good of a job as anyone. Nikki has been described by her superiors as exceptional. I happen to agree.”

“Exceptionally silly! The military ain’t no place for no woman, Emerald.”

“And why’s that Sugar? Tell me why you’d think such a thing?” She bent over to run her fingers along the balls of her feet.

“For one, you can’t be on the front line havin’ no period. What she gonna do? Wave her arms around and say, ‘Cease fire! Hold on a sec, Mr. Foreign Man with a gun in my face. I need to change my sanitary napkin, den we can get tuh fightin’ again.’”

“Sugar…” Emerald fell back into her pillow, emitting a weary laugh. She massaged her forehead, trying to ease a budding tension headache with a gentle touch. “It’s too late in the day for this and I’m tired.”

“Before you go, let me ask you something.” She could hear the woman take a long, hard swallow of her warm milk, which she prepared ritualistically each and every evening before bed. The thought of that mixing in with the pickle she’d just eaten nauseated her.

“I’d prefer you not to.” Emerald chuckled, causing her aunt to do the same.

“How long was you ’nd Andre married again?”

“For fourteen years. Why?”

“He was a nice man. It’s a shame that didn’t work out.”

“What would make you bring up my ex-husband right now? We were talking about my daughter being in the army and besides, he and I have been divorced for a very long time.”

“It slipped my mind until right now, but I asked about him because I saw a man at the grocery store yesterday afternoon who looked just like him. I know it wasn’t him ’cause Andre still live up there in Maxim, right?”

“Yeah, he’s still here.” At that moment, Emerald considered the fact that she hadn’t spoken to Andre in quite a while. “I don’t think he’ll ever leave. From what he told me, he loves it too much. I don’t plan on leaving any time soon, either.”

“I don’t care where you go or stay as long as you find you a man! You ain’t getting any younger! You’re going to end up an old maid with a bunch of cats ’nd shit.”

“Sugar, you act as if my life is incomplete or I’ve been complaining to you about not having a boyfriend. I’ve been married, had a baby who’s now grown. I’ve done all of that so the curiosity is long gone.” She winced as she stretched her sore feet. “I told you I’m fine if I meet someone, and fine if I don’t. Would I like to date more? Of course, but I get out and meet people. My life is fulfilling and full. I have friends that I talk to often and go out to lunch with and what not, you’ve heard mention Sandy and Rebecca plenty of times and of course I have my refurbishing business which keeps me busy, too. I meet a lot of neat people that way.”

“You one of them anti-socials they talk about on Dr. Phil. That ain’t healthy, Emerald.” Emerald rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“That’s not true. I just refuse to settle ever again is all.”

“You ain’t got time to be choosy. Your heyday has come ’nd gone.”

“Thank you, Father Time.” Emerald grimaced.

“The carpet is probably turnin’ gray. I wish you’d meet someone else, Emerald! Ain’t no sense in being alone at your age. Like I always tell you, you still got some good years left in you. You better hurry up before you get wide in the middle. I’d give you Kirby, but even
I
don’t want my own husband!”

“Sugar.” Emerald laughed, this time in earnest. “Look, seriously, don’t worry about me. I like my own company and since you brought up Andre, you’re right—he’s a nice guy, but staying together wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. I tried to hold on for Nikki’s sake. We both did, actually.”