Without Merit(54)

“I’ll explain everything in a little while,” my father says to her. “Try to get some sleep, okay?” I hear the basement door close. I don’t get a hug from my mother.

“Dad,” I whisper, looking up at him pleadingly. “I threw a letter in the basement. Can you please go get it before she reads it?”

He nods and heads to the basement without question.

“Merit!” Honor yells. I look up just in time to see her marching down the hallway, letter in hand. She crosses Quarter One and looks like she’s ready to attack me, but Sagan steps in front of her and grabs her arms. She struggles to get out of his grip, but when she realizes he won’t let her past, she just chucks the pages at me. “You’re a liar!” She’s crying and I suddenly realize we’re not at all attractive when we cry. I hate that I’ve been doing it for the past two hours.

I feel like I’m watching a movie. I don’t feel like I’m in it, living it, taking the brunt of her anger right now. I don’t even respond to her anger because I feel so disconnected from it.

“Not now, Honor,” Sagan says, walking her away from me.

“It’s not true!” Honor yells. “Tell them it’s not true! Utah would never do something like that!”

I watch everything unfold as I remain curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Victoria is back, but Moby isn’t with her anymore. Honor runs up to her and my father. “You can’t make him leave, she’s lying!”

Victoria looks at my father. “You can’t let this slide, Barnaby.”

“Mind your own business!” —Honor.

“Honor,” —My father.

“Oh, shut up!” —Honor.

“Go to your room!” —My father. “Everyone! To your rooms!” —Still my father.

“What about me? Can I go back to my room?” —Utah.

“No. You leave. Everyone else to their rooms.” —My father.

“If he’s going, I’m going.” —Honor.

“No. You’re staying.” —My father.

“I’ll go with Utah.” —Luck.

“You aren’t going with him, either.” —Victoria.

“You’re seriously going to tell me what I can do? I’m twenty!” —Luck.

“Everyone just stay. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll go.” —Utah.

“Why are you leaving? You didn’t do anything!” —Honor.

And here it is. The moment of truth. The climax.

Utah’s shoulders rise with his heavy intake of breath. Then they fall, like all great empires eventually do. He looks across the room at me. He stares at me, but doesn’t use the opportunity to admit his guilt. Or even apologize. Instead, Utah walks to the door after it’s clear my dad isn’t going to relent. The slam the front door makes when it closes makes me jump.

Sagan slowly takes a seat on the couch next to me. He’s popping his knuckles like he’s angry, but I have no idea which person in this family he’s angry at. More than likely me. Everyone is quiet until my father says, “It’s late. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow. Everyone go to bed.” He looks at Luck and points at him. “You stay in your room. If I see you anywhere near my daughters, you’re gone.” He must have read the rest of the letter.

Luck nods and retreats to his room. Honor is staring at my father, her hands in fists at her sides. “This is your fault,” she says to him. “You and your pathetic choices and your pathetic parenting. You’re the reason this family is so screwed up!” Honor walks to her room and slams the door.

It’s just me and Sagan now. And my father. A moment passes as my father gathers himself. He finally walks toward me, squatting down in front of me so that we’re eye to eye. “You okay?”

I nod, even though this feels far from okay.

He looks at Sagan. “Do you mind keeping an eye on her tonight?”

“Not at all.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” my father says. “I need to go deal with Victoria.”

He stands up, but before he’s able to walk away, I say, “Why is Mom taking placebo pills?”

He stares down at me, the imprints of all his secrets gathering in the corners of his eyes. “I’m just thankful that’s all they were, Merit.”

He turns and makes his way into the kitchen, toward his bedroom. But when he passes by the kitchen table, he pauses. He grips the back of one of the chairs and drops his head between his shoulders. He stays like this for about ten seconds, but then he lifts the chair off the floor and throws it against the wall, smashing it to pieces. When he makes it to his bedroom, he slams the door.

Sagan releases a breath at the same time I do. He runs his hands down his face and we’re both quiet. Speechless. An entire minute goes by and we’re just staring at the floor until he says, “Take a shower. You’ll feel better.”

I nod. When I stand up, Sagan stands up with me. I think he can tell I’m still dizzy, because he grabs my arm and helps me to the bathroom. Once we’re inside, he pulls back the shower curtain and picks up the razor. He slides it into his back pocket.

“Really, Sagan? You think I’ll nick my wrist to pieces with a disposable BIC?”