“Hi, Art.” We shake hands. His skin feels like it’s made from crinkled old paper.
“I’m going to give you some time to settle in, son,” he tells me. “But after that, we need to have a conversation.”
I just grunt. There’s a Christmas tree set up in the living room, a few perfectly wrapped presents underneath. I walk down the hallway to my old bedroom, which my mother has kept exactly the way I left it.
I throw my duffel bag down on the bed, and then walk back out to where Arturo is waiting. Part of me is expecting Alex to be right there with him, a self-satisfied grin on his face. I told you I’d get you back here, you son of a bitch.
But he’s not there. It’s just Arturo. “Why don’t we go sit down,” he says. I follow him into the den where there’s fire crackling in the fireplace. The whole scene seems so ridiculously quaint and Christmassy that a wave of nausea rolls over me. “Do you want a drink?” Arturo gestures to my father’s vast array of expensive single malts.
I shake my head. “No thanks.”
“Well. All right, then. Yes.” He fiddles with the buttons on his blazer, then scratches at his bushy grey eyebrows. “ I suppose there’s no need for me to tell you how sorry I am, Aidan. I really am. I really should have insisted they got a cab. But Alex—”
“Was Alex. He wouldn’t have listened to you, Art. Don’t blame yourself.”
“Yes, well. I’m still…so shocked. So very sorry for your loss.” It’s his loss, too. Without a wife or any children of his own, he’s been a part of our family forever. I place a hand on his shoulder, not really sure if I’m meant to hug him or not.
“Thank you, Art. This is all…just a lot to take in.”
“I know,” he says. “Alex has been…Alex was under a lot of stress recently. I know he was excited about taking the company over, but something like that…it’s a huge headache, too. He was managing the best he could, but there’s only so much a man can handle before he starts to lose sleep. And he was worried about you.”
“He was worried about me?”
“Oh, come now. Your brother cared about you. He wanted you to come home. He had a temper, yes. I know the two of you were like oil and water, but he had a vision. He wanted to talk to you about it in person. I thought it might be better to at least bridge some of the specifics with you over the phone, but he was adamant that once you got here, the two of you would go out, have a brotherly chat, and then take on the world.”
“Is that so?” And all I can think of is the last thing I said to my brother before I hung up the phone: Why don’t you fuck off and die?
I don’t think Art knows I wasn’t planning on coming home, nor do I think he knows how shitty he’s making me feel right now. If I’d been here, maybe I would have been the one driving. None of this would have happened to begin with. Everyone would still be alive. But no. I had to put my own wants and desires before everything else. I mean, acting that way has always served me well before, but now, right now, it appears that it’s backfired horribly.
“I’ve been in touch with the only living relative of the man driving the truck. His name was Vaughn Floyd. His sister’s name is Essie Floyd. I did a bit of investigating. Seems it’s been just the two of them for a while. They were struggling to make ends meet,” Arturo says. “I called and offered to take care of the funeral expenses on behalf of the family. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
“How generous of you.” When he says on behalf of the family, he means on my behalf. I’m such a fucking waste of oxygen that I didn’t even think of that myself, and yet I’m mad that Arturo chose to speak for me.
Arturo shrugs. “Maybe by covering the funeral costs, we might avoid any potential lawsuits this young woman might want to pursue. That’s just one headache we don’t need to deal with right now.”
How very fucking pragmatic of him. Buy off the poor woman who’s lost the only family she had. “So she accepted?”
“Yes.” He gives me a tight grin. “Though…she was hardly happy about it. Furious is probably a better word to describe her temperament, in fact.”
“Can you blame her? I assume you told her who you were. I’d probably be pretty pissed too.” I think about the girl for a minute, whoever she is, and her brother, whoever he was. Like mine, her life is now irrevocably changed, and we’re all just expected to carry on.
My father’s most trusted friend sighs heavily. “If she can at least give her brother a decent memorial service, I think we won’t have to worry about her in the future.”
“Jesus. So glad to hear you’re thinking ahead.” I can’t hide the disgust from my voice. I rub a hand over my eyes. “Maybe I should go lie down.”
“Maybe. Yes. Well.” Art nods, glancing around at his overly shined Italian leather shoes like he’s trying to find something he’s lost on the floor. Eventually he says, “Yes. A nap would probably do you some good. Just one more thing before I go. You’ll be expected to speak at the family memorial service. Just a few words. All the other arrangements have been taken care of. Your mother had very specific requests.”
“My mother had her funeral planned?”
“You sound surprised. Your parents have always thought ahead. They were realists. They knew this day would come eventually.” Arturo looks at me. “When was the last time your father spoke to you about his will?”
“His will?” I laugh. “Never. If he was going to talk to anyone about that, it would have been Alex.”
A pained expression crosses Arturo’s face, almost like he feels bad for what he’s about to tell me. “The Callahan Corporation was to be passed on to you and your brother. Since your brother is no longer with us, you are the sole heir. The business is yours.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Callahan Corporation is yours. You’ll need to hit the ground running, Aidan. The company was going through major transition already. Everything’s up in the air. What the business needs now is a strong hand and guidance. Everyone’s...well, they’re reeling, of course. Many of your father’s employees are in a state of panic. People think they’re going to lose their jobs.”
“But…what about the board? Won’t they just manage everything from here on out?”
Arturo shakes his hand, sliding his hands into his pockets. “The Callahan Corporation never went public, Aidan. There is no board. You trying to tell me you didn’t know that?”
“No, I…” I feel stupid. I’ve never had even the slightest interest in what happened in that shining glass tower that dominates the Chicago city skyline. But to not even know how the company was structured? That’s madness. This whole situation reminds me of a movie. Something scripted. Completely untenable. This is just like fucking Batman, except Arturo makes a shitty Arthur and I am just about the worst Bruce Wayne ever.
Arturo speaks some more. I think maybe they’re coherent sentences, but I can’t decipher a single thing that comes out of his mouth. My parents are dead, my brother is dead, and now everything is mine.
Everything I’ve ever tried to free myself from is mine.
SEVEN
ESSIE
A handful of people show up to Vaughn’s memorial service. Mostly people he worked with from the bike shop. They say kind words to me, but I don’t hear any of it, much like I don’t hear a single thing the priest is saying. How is it this priest can be saying anything about my brother anyway, when he never even knew him?