The last secret_ a novel - Mary McGarry Morris [110]
“Hold still!” Ken orders, pressing the dripping cloth against his temple.
Muttering, Drew bats his father's hand away. But Ken persists. Nora remains at her son's side, arms folded, in this strange suspension. Looking down at them, at herself, with surreal curiosity and the realization, the acceptance, that the dream is past, all of it a dream, because only this is real. And would forever be this way.
“Here.” Chloe offers the water glass.
Drew refuses, so she holds it to his lips, and he strikes out in panic, in confusion, knocking the water from Chloe's hand. The glass explodes on the tile floor in a burst of gleaming splinters. Drew struggles to stand up.
“Sit down!” Ken yells, forcing him back onto the chair.
Propelled into action, Nora grabs a mop, and Chloe is unrolling long furls of paper toweling onto the floor.
“I said, sit down!” With Ken's shout, Drew lunges at his father. Ken shoves him back, away from him, again, again, ducking his blows, leaning, not wanting to hurt him. But Drew persists, in his drunken clumsiness, staggering against the refrigerator, now, the narrow table display of Delft plates that teeter, but Chloe steadies them in time.
“Fuck you! I hate you, you fucking asshole!” Drew bellows and sobs, but Ken gets behind him, arms around his son in a bear hug that only makes him cry out more. Sobbing, Chloe begs her father not to hurt him. Ken grunts with his fierce grip, afraid to let go, his own face grim, sick-looking, as afraid as Nora is, of what he will do, not to them, or to anything in this room or house, but to himself because he is frantic, beyond their reach.
“Calm down, just calm down,” Ken begs.
“Listen to your father,” Nora pleads, stroking his pinioned arms and bony shoulders, his face. “Please. Please, Drew. It's all right. Dad's just trying to help you, that's all.”
“No, he's not!” Drew yells, laughing, in his struggle. Tears and snot streak his face. “He wants me to shut up, that's what he wants. Shut up! Shut up, Drew, you fucking little freak! You just forget everything. Cuz you don't know, you don't know what the hell you're talking about, you freakin', fuckin' little freak.”
“Stop. Please stop.” Ken's face presses against Drew's head, and something inside Nora is breaking off, piece by piece.
“It's a secret. His dirty little secret—”
“Don't,” Ken groans at his son's ear. “Don't. Don't—”
“Stop it, Drew! Stop it!” Chloe screams, pounding her fists on the table as Drew shouts over her.
“Ask him who Lyra's father is. Go ahead, Mom. Ask him.” The words pour out as if he can hold them in no longer. “Because it's not Mr. Gendron. It's him. That's who it is, it's him.”
Chloe is sobbing into her hands, not with the shock of revelation, Nora realizes, but with pent-up anguish over what must happen now. Ken's arms fall away from Drew, who looks around in panting, stunned surprise. Relieved, finally, of this, their last secret. For a moment she thinks she's having a heart attack. She can't breathe. Or move or speak. And yet, this calm voice—hers.
“Leave, Ken. Please. Just leave.”
pparently, Ken has found refuge in the huge, run-down home of his privileged childhood. So far, he hasn't called, but Oliver does from rehab. He asks if she and the children are all right. Whatever they need. His voice breaks. His speech has improved, yet when he tries explaining that he just got off the phone with Ken, he says he's just gotten off the john with Ken at FairWinds. She's not to worry, he says again. He's told his doctors he wants to be discharged. As soon as he gets home, he'll take care of everything. Everything his asinine brother is hell-bent on destroying. The paper, Stephen, but especially her and the children.
“You and the kids, Nora, that's the most important thing,” he gasps.
She's shocked, hearing him trying not to cry. He's never been sentimental or the least bit emotional with her.
“I feel so damn guilty. I should've said something. But I didn't know about that, their having a kid, I swear