It’s growing darker by the minute, but neither of us move to turn on the light. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Silence hangs around us cut only by the howl of the wind that lends a melancholy backdrop to the dismal situation. “Axton,” I murmur, when he takes another drink. He’s going hard on the whiskey and it won’t lead to anything good. “That isn’t going to help.”
“Don’t need help. I’m fine. He’s dead. I’ve been waiting a long fucking time to say that. The bastard is actually dead.”
Turning to face him, I sit sideways, leaning my shoulder against the back of the couch cushions. “Do you want to talk about him?”
The words barely leave my lips before he snaps, “No.”
“Okay.” There’s only one other thing I know might help him. Maybe distract him from the quickly depleting bottle. “Can we put some music on?”
It takes a moment of fumbling with his phone, but he manages to cast to the speakers and choose a playlist. At least he isn’t trying to get rid of me. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he doesn’t want to be alone.
His head propped on the headrest, he closes his eyes as a powerful blues riff pushes back the stillness. A lot of the music he creates is influenced by blues and jazz, so I’m not surprised it’s what he chose tonight.
The bottle sits tucked between his legs and he takes an occasional drink. The only light in the room now bleeds between the curtains from the outdoor security lights. It casts a gray hue over the room, illuminating our surroundings just enough to allow us to see.
Eyes shut, he raises the volume of the music and I watch as a range of expressions cross his face. As one song slips into the next, he follows it into his head, into his own little world. I hope there’s less pain there.
Music is his escape, and I may not feel it to the extent that he does—live it like he does—but I understand. Like most people, I discovered the magic woven by music as a teenager. It’s amazing, the power it has over us, to soothe or excite. A familiar song can be a friend in the darkness, a caress in the absence of touch. It floods the empty spaces.
That’s what it’s doing for him now, letting him feel. Letting him remember.
Another song ends, he polishes off the bottle, and his words slur when he says, “He always hated me.”
I’m met with no argument when I reach to push the button on his phone, lowering the volume of the music just enough to hear him better.
“It got worse after Mom left, but he hated me before. Before he had a good reason to. I remember that. One of my earliest memories was the feeling of that hate when he looked at me, like needles dragged across my skin.”
His voice cracks and the pain radiating from him is palpable. He doesn’t object when I lean over and pluck the empty bottle from his lap to set it aside before it gets busted. “There’s never a good reason to hate your child. It wasn’t anything you did.” Even before, when we were getting close, he never talked about his dad. I overheard enough between him and Dani to know he was abusive, but watching what he’s going through now, I learn I’m capable of despising a person I’ve never met.
“He was always a bastard,” he continues like he didn’t hear me. “He treated Mom like shit, hit her when she didn’t follow his orders fast enough. Or when she tried to stop him from beating me. Dani…she was the only one who escaped his hate then. Maybe because she was the baby. Even when we got older, he controlled her, but saved the abuse for me. She was too young to remember him hitting Mom and she only saw him beat me once I deserved it. Maybe that’s why she can’t hate him, can’t see who he is…was.”
I’m startled for a moment at the agonized laugh that follows. “Was. He’s dead. Part of me still can’t believe it.”
Not once since I’ve returned have I touched Axton, but boundaries be damned. I take his hand, and he turns to regard me like he’s just remembered I’m there. His fingers tighten in mine. “You never deserved that.”
His words grow thick as the alcohol takes over. “I did. She left us because of me. Left Dad and Dani too. To get away from me.”
“No, Axton…”
“Yes!” His other hand slaps down on the arm of the couch. “I loved her too much. Took up all her time. I was too clingy and needy, and she couldn’t stand it. She left. Dad told me she would never come back and he was right. He said I drove her away. I destroyed our family, and he was right.”
God, the words pouring out of him rip me open, but it explains so much. His hesitation to get close to anyone, love anyone, even his own son in the beginning. “No,” I choke out around the lump in my throat. “Could Caden ever make you leave by loving you too much? You didn’t drive her away, your dad did. His abuse.”
My words don’t seem to have any impact as he continues, “He called me the destroyer, told me she wouldn’t be the only one I’d ruin. He was right.”
Axton’s hand in mine starts to go slack. “I knew. From the moment I opened that door and saw, I knew he was right. Now, I can’t stop opening it every time I close my eyes.”
His nightmares. He’s talking about the source of his nightmares. “Axton, what did you see? What was behind the door?”
A few long silent moments make me think he may have fallen asleep, but he gives me four more words before passing out.
“The woman I killed.”
Those four words haunt my night until almost dawn. What was he talking about? There’s not a trace of me that believes he killed anyone, but the guilt he feels is very real.
Dani told me Axton had lost someone and that he hadn’t been the same since, but that’s all I know. So many questions I know I can’t ask.
I’m just an employee after all.
After hearing Axton repeat the things his father poisoned him with, I understand his refusal to have anything to do with him, even his death. That doesn’t mean I don’t sympathize with Dani and her desire to give him a memorial. He was her father and she’s doing what she thinks is right. I’ll do my best to be there for both of them, but it’s going to be a challenge not to get caught in the middle. Grief can bring out the worst in people.
One question does nag at me. Does Dani also blame Axton for their mother’s abandonment? Because she has to know her father does.
Axton is still asleep where I left him on the couch in the music room when Dani’s phone call wakes me a little past ten. “How are you doing?” I ask.
Her voice is steadier than it was yesterday. “I’m okay. How is Ax?”
“He’s still asleep. Do you want me to go with you to make funeral arrangements?” I remember how hard it was to deal with all that alone after my mother’s death.
“Clara and Brysen are going with me, but thanks. I guess there’s no point in asking Ax. He won’t change his mind.”
“No, I don’t think he will.”
She sighs into the phone. “When he wakes, will you see if I can keep Caden here with me another night? Taking care of him is a good distraction and he’s having a good time with Clara and Brysen’s little girl. Jude and Elliot have been around too and just being here with everyone…it helps.”