“And you’re telling them now? You think they’ll even understand?”
“They’ve listened in on some of the meetings. It’s a risk I have to take. They need to start paying attention. At some point, they’ll either remain at play or step up, but I’m willing to bet it’s the latter. He’s brilliant, but he’s still just a kid.”
She laughs. “So are you.”
She remains unmoving where she is, and it grates on me as I refold the same shirt, unable to keep proper count with an audience. Sweat beads at my temple, and I fucking resent she’s standing there, watching my every move as the familiar pulse and unease sets in.
“What?”
“Your parents would be proud.” I look up to see her glassy-eyed. She’s gotten softer over the years, more of a sentimental drunk than a mean one. “I’ve shamed them with the way I’ve handled this.” A rare confession coming from her. Something is up.
I walk over to where she stands. My aunt is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen but has been tarnished by a life that’s stolen most of the good left in her. She’ll never walk a straight line emotionally, and I’ll never be able to fully trust her with my brother because of the way she treats herself. That’s why I’ll be home every six weeks and will be spending every single holiday break and summer in Triple Falls. I refuse to let her be the one to shape the rest of him. “You want to make it right?”
“I’m far past the point of redemption, nephew,” she admits, not quite meeting my stare.
“Maybe,” I agree, “but if you’re sincere.” I lower my voice. “Traite-le bien.” Treat him well.
“I’ve been trying to talk to him.” There’s hope in her voice, and that aids in lessening some of the panic I feel.
“He doesn’t need another friend. He needs authority now, more than ever. But you have to have his respect for him to listen. Tell him your stories. Tell him what you’ve told me. Tell him your past. That’s a good way to earn it. Sois ferme. Mais traite-le bien. Il te résiste maintenant. Les choses ne changeront pas du jour au lendemain, mais si tu restes ferme, il s’y fera. Fais cela et tu auras gagné ma confiance.” Be firm. But treat him well. He’s immune to you now. Things won’t change overnight, but if you remain the same, he’ll fall in line. Do this, and you will have earned my trust.
“Your French is much better,” she comments.
“I know.” I was rusty for a while and failed Dominic in keeping his native tongue.
“Smug little bastard,” she mutters before looking up at me with concern. I surpassed her height years ago. “You’re sure about this? You know who to contact once you get there?”
“I’ve got it. I’ve had it for a long time.”
“Okay,” she pulls the shirt from my hand and rolls it instead of folding it before tucking it snugly into my bag. “It won’t wrinkle this way. Not that it matters, but…” she shrugs.
I look down at the shirt and then back to her before taking them all out and rolling them up the same way.
“Mr. Know It All doesn’t know it all just yet,” she laughs. “This will honor your papa. He talked a lot about—”
“Talk.” I shake my head, irritated. “No more talk. I’m tired of talk, and if they become a part of it,” I nod in the direction of Dominic’s room, “they have to know what’s happening. He thinks I’m leaving to get away from here, from him.” The words pain me.
“I thought you were leaving to get away from me,” her self-deprecating laugh says it all. This is the closest I’ll ever get to an apology.
“We’ve survived this long.” It’s the nicest thing I can say about it. She leveled out enough after an explosive fight between us and started hosting the meetings. As much as I’m disgusted by some of her behavior, I have some admiration for the way she conducts herself, unshakable in her beliefs, hard core in her delivery.