Under the Orange Moon (34 page)

“I was just putting lunch on,” she spoke from behind him. “Are you hungry?”

Ben noticed two round faces that peaked at him from just around the other side of a wall. Their porcelain little cheeks shined with a tint of pink as they stared at him bashfully. His new
sisters
, he figured.

Ben turned to shake his head uncomfortably at Jackie. “No, thank you. I’d rather just see my father, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” she said, and motioned with her chin up to the grand staircase before them. “He’s in bed, but he should be awake. It’s the fourth set of doors on the right. Don’t mind the mess.”

“Thank you,” Ben replied, and made his way up.

The room was dark and eerily reminded him of the way his mother’s room looked when he found her dead. The sun gleamed through the window and shot across the room, touching everything in its path.

Medical machines had been set up all around the bed with cords running to and from each piece of equipment, tangling themselves on top of the carpet and finally running under the bed in an attempt at discretion.

Ben had never seen his father so fragile. He was barely noticeable tucked under the white sheets that covered him. He looked old, much older than the middle-aged man he had seen only a few months before.

“Dad,” Ben whispered, nearly choking on that one word.

Warren’s eyes fluttered weakly.

Ben sat down on the bed, carefully finding a place that wouldn’t disrupt his father’s comfort, if there was any at all. “Sir, it’s me, Benjamin.”

“I know. I’m not blinded by this condition,” Warren whispered with a raspy voice. “You should be working,” he scolded tiredly. “What are you doing in New York?”

Ben stifled his anger. He should have felt no surprise that his father would worry over his internship, no matter what the circumstances.

“Darius gave me a bit of time off. He assured me that I can come back when I’ve dealt with—you know—whatever this is.” It was hard to even look at him. Was he dying?

Warren
gave a weakened wave. “He’s a pompous moron. I never wanted you working under him. That’s just proof that he’s a sap of a man.”

Ben chuckled. “He’s not a sap. He’s taught me a lot in a very short time, actually. And he happens to have an enormous amount of respect for you.”

Warren gave another weak wave, followed by a sickening groan. “I’m happy you’re here, anyway. I have something for you. Go to that hutch over there,” he said, pointing, “there’s a box I need you to get.”

Ben did as he was told and brought back the wooden box. He placed it down next to his father and waited for the next order. There would always be another command.

“Open it,” Warren demanded.

Once again, Ben did as he was told and opened the box. Inside were papers, medals, awards, and certificates, each with Ben’s name stamped in calligraphy at the top. It seemed bottomless and it was every achievement Ben had ever earned. At the top of the pile rested an envelope with Ben’s name scrawled in a messy version of his father’s handwriting.

“Don’t read that letter until you leave,” Warren made sure to utter. Ben hadn’t planned on reading it in front of him but seriously imagined what it could possibly say.

“Okay,” Ben agreed in barely a whisper.

“I don’t want to waste this time by discussing what happened between us, Benjamin. I only want to have a pleasant talk.” He smiled with amusement. “So, how are you?”

Ben smirked as he leaned over to fix his father’s pillow. “Terrible. And you?”

“Dying,” Warren admitted with a chuckle.

“That sucks, Dad.”

“Yes.” Warren sighed, and asked, “Have you seen the crying young lady that you chased out of your apartment that one morning?”

Ben laughed, remembering all to well what he was talking about. “Yes. I see her, but she wants me dead so I try not to speak to her.”

“Are there any women out there that want you alive, son?”

“No. Well, maybe one,” Ben joked. “But I ruined that and she’s with someone else. She even lives with him now.”

“That must be the Mathews girl. Jonah’s twin, right?” he asked as if he had been there all along.

“Dylan,” Ben confirmed. He couldn’t help but to keep his bewildered expression.

“You’re surprised I know a bit about your life?” Warren asked with a smile. “I should have been closer, I suppose. Maybe this is karma for my mishaps as a father. I did know things, though, Benjamin.”

“Yes, then. I’m talking about Dylan.”

Warren’s eyes closed. “Then why are you wasting time here with me?” he asked faintly. “You should be groveling at her feet and begging for another chance.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Warren’s eyes slowly opened. “It’s never too late, son. I’m dying proof of that.”

Ben nodded, and wiped a tear from his eye. He was thankful his father didn’t see it. God only knew when the real Warren McKenna would come back and yell at him for being so feeble.

Ben sat and watched his father sleep for some time. There had been no discussion about their fight. Neither of them needed to point it out, but there was a peace that had fallen over them, and Ben was finally relaxed at his father’s side. 

Ben grabbed his box and looked at
Warren’s face once more before he left. He felt no need to wake him for a long, drawn out goodbye. It was a stillness inside his usually raging head that he was content to keep wordless.

As Ben approached the front door, he was stopped by Jackie’s voice. “It took him three rough drafts before he finally felt happy enough with that letter,” she said from behind him.

Ben nodded and allowed a smile to form across his mouth. “I’m sure,” he agreed quietly.

“I’m trying to make him as comfortable as possible. I hope you know that,” she said in desperation. “This was never about money. I have enough of that.”

Ben turned to face her with a compassionate stare. “I believe you. I’d rather not do this with you right now, though. I can only handle so many heart-to-hearts in one day. Please understand.”

Jackie smiled as she let out a sigh of relief. “I’m married to the older version of you, Ben. I think I understand a thing or two about how you operate.”

Ben couldn’t help but to laugh. “Thank you.” He looked back up the stairs, and said, “Take care of him.”

“I promise,” she said with such sincerity that Ben would never question it again. “Would you like that lunch now? You’ve been up there for so long it may as well be dinner.”

“I have another stop I need to make before I head back home. But I do appreciate the offer.”

“The offer will always stand. I hope you come back to visit soon.”

“Of course,” he said, and walked outside into the sun.

He sat down a few steps away from the porch and pulled the letter from the box. He simply couldn’t wait another minute to read what his father spent so many agonizing rough drafts over.

Benjamin,

My life has been turned upside down with love. As much as I would opt to keep a manly feel to this letter, the love I feel for my wife is not the love I speak of. From the moment I laid eyes on you, my heart swelled with a feeling of pride and bewilderment. I knew that you would be a greater man than I could ever imagine myself being. Unfortunately, I never knew how to show that emotion. I was raised by the same kind of monster that raised you and, to my own dismay, emulated my own upbringing because it was all I knew. I thought that if I gave you every material thing possible, and opened every difficult door for you to step through in life, that would somehow be enough and you would feel my love in that way. Sadly, I was mistaken. I can never take it back; however, I can leave you with this one small word of fatherly advice: don’t be me, son. I did it all wrong and I will forever be full of regret. You are a better man than I could ever hope to be. Please know that and remember it when you think of me.

Always, Your father, Warren McKenna 

Ben’s eyes welled with uncontrollable tears. He fell into his hands and sobbed as he sat on the steps that lead to his father’s porch. In that moment, an invisible boulder had been lifted from his chest and he knew that every word his father wrote was genuine and true. 

He should have raced back into that room and told him that he loved him, too. He couldn’t. Like him, Warren despised emotional overload. He knew that Ben loved him, though. He didn’t need any words to confirm that.

Ben collected his wooden box and stepped down from the stone steps. He didn’t belong there anymore. He belonged somewhere else. He had one more stop to make and a promise to fulfill.

Dylan’s hands shook violently with every guest that walked into her showroom. Every piece that she presented seemed to call out “amateur!” each time she watched an onlooker even glance at it.

She remained somewhat hidden while she watched a man and woman point and nod away at the last piece she painted only weeks before. It was an abstract painting with colors she thought were right at the time, but seriously questioned now.

“Oh, God, when is this going to be over?” she asked her mother through a shaky breath.

Linda smiled obliviously as she sipped her champagne. “What do you mean, baby? I’m having a wonderful time. I love it here. I feel so classy.”

“That’s great.” Dylan pulled the flute from her giggly mother’s hand and downed the alcohol inside. “Why would I ever agree to this?”

“Because you’re one of the most gifted artists I’ve ever known,” a voice corrected from behind her.

“Scarlet!” Dylan beamed as she wrapped her arms around her former teacher’s neck. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Like I’d miss this, dummy,” she said with a bright smile. 

Scarlet was a true hippie with the dreads and recycled shoes to match. Only tonight, she seemed a bit more sleek and presentable than usual. She still smelled like Patchouli Oil, though.

“This is quite a turnout,” Scarlet noticed.

“They’re paid actors,” Hugh teased, and then dodged a stray slap from
Brandon.

“Has anything been purchased yet?” Charlie asked.

“It looks like people are starting to clear out,” Meredith pointed out over her champagne flute. “Has anything sold?”

“Oh, yes!
Norman said that several pieces have been claimed, and there are a few that are pending,” Scarlet answered. “You really should have agreed to a higher sale price, Dylan.”

“Yeah, sis,” Jonah cut in, “make us all rich so I can quit school and give Mom’s bank account a rest.”

“You’ll be doing that regardless,” Linda said with a stern look. “I don’t think my bank account can handle another bar tab.”

“You can always get a job as a bartender, Jonah,” Michael taunted.

“He’d drink you dry,” Hugh scoffed.

“You’re all driving me crazy!” Dylan snapped, and fled before she strangled them one by one. She couldn’t handle the usual Mathews banter. Not tonight, anyway.

As she rushed away from her crazy family, she was stopped by a small man with salt and pepper hair. “Ms. Mathews?”

“Mr. Fuller?” Dylan confirmed breathlessly. She decided now was a great time to control her rampant nerves. “I’m so happy you made it.”

“I am as well, Ms. Mathews.” He looked around and smiled. “However, I’ve seen enough.”

Ouch.
“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to come here,” she began disappointedly.

Lorenz Fuller released a buoyantly wicked laugh. “Ms. Mathews, we need to work on your pessimism. I fear you are your own worst enemy at times.”

“I’m not following,” Dylan said without caring about sounding proper.

“I’m offering you the position!” he exclaimed with a grin. “I knew I was right about you and this gallery only proves it. I love being right,” he added with a wink.

Dazed, Dylan walked away with a mass of instructions on how to contact him and when she could start. She had to put that behind her for now and concentrate on the exciting moment at hand.

It was a like living in a dream, and she wondered when it would all collapse into a nightmare.
Yes, more pessimism.

Dylan walked back to her family and tried to greet them with a smile. They had all showed up, supporting her in every way despite their busy lives. No one could ask for a better group standing behind them, and here she was acting like a vicious brat.

“Why are you taking that down?” Dylan asked as Brandon pulled her favorite painting from the wall. Even she could hear the urgency in her own voice.

“Uh, someone bought it,”
Brandon said with an obvious tone. “Norman told me to pull it when the showing was coming to an end and take it to the back to be wrapped. He said to do this one first.”