Page 170 of The Illusion
Having him killed was going to be my maiden voyage, so to speak. I was playing judge and executioner. And then life stepped in and did it for me.
The difference matters, but not much. Because I have to live with the soul deep understanding that if there had been no accident, I was absolutely going to do it. That I'm capable of that. I'm not unlike my father at all. Not in the ways that matter. I wouldn't do it now. But back then, without a doubt. It's no wonder I'm fucked up.
I fold the newspaper and set it on the table. The sun is shining. The world is moving on.
My father was a man wholiterallykilled the competition and got away with it. Julie never would have married into my family if she'd known what he really was. And if I had been a better person, I never would've put her at risk the way that I did. Exposure to my father was dangerous.
Everything I learned—the manipulation, the cruelty, the cold calculation—I learned from him. Even all his bullshit with the trust was pure manipulation. From beyond the grave he was exerting his power. A final fuck you from him to me, letting me know that I never met his standards.
A piece of shit and a failure as a father to the bitter fucking end. I stand up, leaving bills on the table. Seeing Julie and Ryan feels like a sign. They found happiness. I didn't ruin their lives. And I feel like now that I'm sober and working on breaking the cycle, I have a shot at something better, too. Because I'm tired of being my father's son. It won't be easy. It won't erase what I've done. But it's a start. And right now, a start is all I've got.
I walk away from the café, the sound of seagulls overhead, the salt air filling my lungs. A weight has been lifted. For the first time in years, I feel like I can fully breathe.
And that has to count for something.
The End
