Page 8 of Requiem

Does my mother really know something … or is she bluffing? After a long, tense moment, he decides on the latter.

“Absolutely,” he declares with confidence. “There was nothing that could be done, so I just left. I knew someone would find him soon enough.”

“Huh,” Mom seems to consider this.

I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there is a palpable shift in the air. Suddenly, the kitchen is a little colder, a little darker. And a lot quieter as Mom takes her time before speaking again. We wait. We watch until, finally, it comes.

“You know, Jeremy, I don’t think we ever told you that we had security cameras installed in Dad’s garage a few years back.”

His eyes narrow and he purses his mouth. That, in and of itself, tells me my world is about to explode.

“So, I went back over the tapes with the Police Chief,” Mom continues. “We know that you didn’t kill your father, but we also know that you were the one who got him so upset that he had the heart attack in the first place. And then, to make matters worse, you stood there and waited for him to die. You didn’t lift a finger to call for help. In fact, quite the opposite. On the tape, you are quite clearly taunting him as he’s writhing on the floor.”

“You. Didn’t.” My voice is a caustic whisper. “For God’s sake, Jeremy, tell me you didn’t do that!”

“Oh, he did it alright, Brett, I have the video footage to prove it.”

“You sure you wanna go there, Mom?” he whispers as he leans in and puts a hand on her wrist. “I’d hate for you to open up a can of worms you can’t close …”

My mother, pulls her hand out from under his and offers up a small, bittersweet smile. “Oh, Jeremy. If only I’d opened up that can a little sooner … your father might still be alive today. That will be the greatest regret of my life. That, and giving birth to you.”

In an instant, all the air seems to have been sucked out of the room. I can’t believe she’s said it and, judging by the way he’s shaking his head, he can’t believe he’s heard it.

“Wow. That was harsh, Mom. I didn’t know you had it in you,” he begins, sitting back again and draping an arm over the chair casually. “Oh, but wait … maybe I did. I mean, I have half your DNA, don’t I? Mom?”

I watch in stunned silence, waiting for her response. And when it comes, it’s most certainly not what I am expecting.

“You do, Jeremy. And, believe it or not, that means I know you better than you know yourself. So, go ahead, Son, tell me again how you had nothing to do with your father’s death. Tell me, Jeremy.”

Holy. Shit.

My brother doesn’t bat an eyelash. In fact, he looks quite pleased with himself when he speaks again.

“Okay,” he acknowledges, lifting his palms in surrender. “Okay, fine, I did it. But you can’t touch me, Mom. I didn’t commit any crime.”

While I may be without words at this moment, Maggie, on the other hand, is not.

“You are unbelievable,” she hisses at him in a rare moment of lost composure. “You think you can let your father die like that, in front of you, and then show up here looking for a share of the inheritance? You fucking sociopath! You’re more delusional than even I thought possible!” She jumps to her feet and leans across the table toward him. “I think it’s time you left. There are people grieving in this house and clearly, you are not one of them.”

Jeremy isn’t amused.

“I suggest you mind your own fucking business, Margaret, or next time it might be …”

“What?” She jumps in with the challenge before he can finish his thought. Before he can finish his threat. “Next time it might be me on the ground dying while you stand over me watching? I’d like to see you try it, asshole!”

Oh. This is not good. Not good at all. A steady tide of crimson is rising up her long, lean neck and her hands are balled up into tight fists.

“Maggie ...” I start, but she ignores me, turning to my mother.

“Trudy, with your permission, I’m going to call the police now.”

My mother shakes her head. At first I think she means Maggie shouldn’t call. But I’m mistaken.

“No, I don’t have a problem with that. The phone is on the wall over there, honey,” she directs her.

As she stands up, Jeremy grabs her wrist.

“I wouldn’t make that call if I were you,” he threatens.