Obedience Lessons

Chapter Thirty-four

Dylan's POV

Andy showed me the pictures, explaining their significance quickly and I felt the blood in my veins go cold. "I'll fire him myself."

Andy's hands are too warm and I think back to his words while in bed, guilt lancing through me at the memory of 'I'm in love with you.' He wrapped his hands around my wrists and held on tightly, stopping me. His voice came insistently, "No. That'll only alert your dad that he needs a new spy. No need to rock the boat, if this guy is being paid to get evidence, I say we act this out cool and give him a clean show."

"This is my fucking house. I shouldn't have to be ducking and hiding, I should be able to do as I please. Andy, I'm so tired of this, I swear I'm losing my mind over the constant surveillance, this goddamn wedding and everything else that keeps pressing in, suffocating me -"I couldn't breathe anymore. Andy wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest where I decided to cling and breathe in Andy's clean, fresh scent. I was tired of being hounded every minute. And recently, I've more closely understood what Liam truly went through. What if our dad kept tabs on him too? No. He probably didn't with Liam, it wasn't necessary, otherwise he would've known Liam was gay.

"I know," he stroked my hair and pressed his lips to the side of my head. I'm in love with you. I hated how much I was becoming dependent on him. I bet my mother had thoughts about my father like I was constantly having about Andy, one day I'd begin to need him for everything. I steeled myself and pushed away, wiping at my eyes and finding that they were dry.

"Fine," I say. "What do you suggest we do?"

He grimaced, then smiled a wry smile, and I knew I'd hate what he was about to say. "I can't stay over anymore, for starters." That sounded like he was running, and I couldn't let him run away just yet. When I frowned he kept speaking fast, "Just for a while. Maybe you can even come over to my place sometimes though, I don't have all this glass that you do."

"You really are afraid of him, aren't you?" I teased bitterly.

"I'm not -"He insisted, eyes tight with something I couldn't understand.

"He's already getting what he wants, Andy, I'm engaged to Alyssa and our wedding is being planned by the biggest names around for next summer. He can't take everything away from me, and I refuse to let him have you." I was admitting too much. Needing too much. Eventually I'd lose to my father anyway. What was it about this man that made me want to fight tooth and nail to stay by his side? Even for something so small?

He cupped my face in his hands and administered a slow, sweet kiss. I'm in love with you. The fire started deep in my chest and spread until it suffused every tissue. "Don't worry," He winked when he pulled back. "He hasn't got a thing that I want." Then he kissed me again. Hard.

"I think I'd murder your mother first," Alyssa mused out loud during a particularly trying session of picking out the Ryman & Clarke Christmas decorations. My mother had had several themes laid out before prattling endlessly about the implications of matching our homes, while being sure to steer clear of wedding themes which hadn't been picked out yet. She further droned on about fabrics and styles that each item must follow, down to the last set of fucking doilies, and other inane frivolities that no one in their right mind would give a shit about, until she felt "overwhelmed" and excused herself for a breath of fresh air.

"Feel free," I shrugged, "I'd be lying if I said I'd miss her too terribly." I kicked up my feet onto the spread of magenta coloured drapes, hoping gum was stuck to my shoe so it ruined the precious fabric.
"You must've been the bad son then...." She said with half of a smirk, "Then at least I'm marrying you and not the fucking goody-two-shoes, God I think I would've killed him first instead..."

Her words, callous and unthinking made my head hurt and vision blur. "Can we not talk about killing my already dead brother? Geez, fuck." I heard a noncommittal 'hmm' and then the sound of Alyssa on her phone, texting. I ignored her, clutching my head and leaving so I wouldn't have to look at her.

I leaned over the balcony of Clarke manor and thought about how easy it would be to slip over the edge. To just bow my head over a little more and take the fifty-metre fall.

"I know what you're thinking," my mother's voice came from behind me, at the door, and I startled. Especially, the thought of her knowing what I was thinking freaked me out. "I miss him too," She said instead, and I exhaled the breath I had held unconsciously. Of course. I was missing Liam. How she was standing was weird, with her back to me, and hands in front of her. I smelled the unmistakable scent of smoke.

"Mom," I hissed between my teeth.

"Oh, give me a break, I'm your mother, it's not the other way around," She snapped, but flicked the cigarette away so that it fell off the balcony. No screams, no blood. Unlike the end I was envisioning for myself moments ago. I cringed as my mother spoke again. "I never used to smoke, of course." She sounded as if she was regaining her composure, ready to justify and placate. "It's just the stress of it all, the holidays coming up, and I know you think I'm a worrier but it's already November and there's a lot to get done if we're going to pull this off as normal."

"Mom," my voice cracked and I closed my eyes, hating the weakness. "Things are not normal. They haven't been normal for a long, long time. Ever since Liam died. Fuck that, things were bad before that."

"Swearing isn't becoming," She rebuked mildly, but kept talking since I knew she didn't really care. "You think I don't know things aren't normal? That I don't know shit about this family... I may not know everything, but I do know that the sun stopped rising when I buried my son."

I suddenly felt horrible for what I'd said to her before. Her words were like a slap to the face. Sure she'd buried Liam, but I was still here, and Liam always wanted her to be fairer to me. He would never have let her say something like that to me unchallenged.

"This used to be our time." She continued in the same lifeless tone. "Me and my boy would bring colour to this town and so many others." My mother's cerulean gaze bored through my face and seemed to look even beyond. "We made it so beautiful....." Then she fumbled in her slight pockets for another cigarette and turned, leaving me alone to feel cold in the afternoon sunlight.

Liam had loved Christmases. And Halloween, and Thanksgiving and Fourth of July's. And every other holiday. He would always pick out the decorations with my mother and organize weeks upon weeks of charities and events to fund all sorts of projects. Water aqueducts for desert villages in the continent of Africa, computers for schools down in Venezuela, and Christmas presents for every orphanage in a South American country each year. Liam was the good son. And I knew my mother missed him like crazy. I missed him too. I was forever trying to remember that last Christmas....