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Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three

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“So far I want to shove my foot up your ass, but part of me wants to give you a hug, and since that’s not happening, by all means, continue.” He waved me on.
“You sure? ‘Cause this next part...” I grimaced.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go on,” he ordered.
“You remember Conner?”
He nodded. “Of course. He and Andrea went off the rails together after my stepdaughter died.”
“You know what happened to him?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Went missing, probably OD’d somewhere. That’s what we assumed anyway.”
“It’s a good assumption. I mean, that’s probably what WOULD have happened to him...had I not shot and killed him first.”
I felt him freeze. He uncrossed his legs and planted them firmly on the floor.
“You see,” I scratched my chin beneath my beard, “Conner stole from me, which is only done if you are really wanting a bullet hole in your body. He was going to die anyway, but the dumb shit decided to give me more reasons to take him out when I found him in a dirty motel room about to rape your daughter.” The words made my stomach turn to say them, never mind remember seeing him stand over her, trying to pull her panties down her lifeless limbs.
Dre’s dad’s mouth dropped open. “So I dragged him into the bathroom and we had a conversation that ended in him pissing himself and me putting a bullet in his brain. Honestly? I’d do it all over again, especially after I found out that Conner and his buddy Eric decided that a nice gang bang against her will would be a super fun way to steal Dre’s virginity.”
Mr. Capulet paled.
“Last night it was Eric. We thought he was dead but he was the one responsible for what happened tonight. He got himself clean. Found Jesus, and took everything that was fucked up in his life out on Dre, but it was me he wanted to get to for killing Conner. Revenge and all that. Dre was just a tool to get to me,” I said, feeling spent, emotionally and physically. I leaned back in my chair, propped my elbow on the armrest and dropped my forehead onto my fist.
“Where is Eric now?” he asked, like if he wasn’t dead he’d bring him back to life and kill him all over again.
Our eyes locked. “Hell.”
He coughed and covered his mouth with his closed fist. “Andrea knows all this? About Eric, about you?”
“Every damn thing. And the thing is that she’s never asked me to change or be anyone else other than exactly who I am. Which is good because in some ways I’ll always be the same, but in other ways I see things differently. Clearer. And I think it’s all because of her. It’s funny. I changed not because she wanted me to, but...”
“Because she didn’t need you to,” Mr. Capulet finished for me.
He didn’t react. Didn’t say a word. He glanced from floor to ceiling. From Dre to me, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
The silence between us seemed to go on forever.
The beeping of the monitors and the occasional footsteps of passing hospital staff were the only sounds echoing throughout the tiny hospital room.
I must have drifted off because when I opened my eyes I was still in the hospital. Dre was still in the bed. The only thing that had changed was that Mr. Capulet was now standing above my chair, looking down at me with a pained expression on his face.
Without saying a word, he pulled me up into a forceful hug. One so hard it was almost like he was kicking my ass and embracing me at the same time. He finally let me go and sat back down.
“I totally get it if you fucking hate me. I failed her.” I lowered my face into my hands and spoke through my fingers. “More than once. I should have just let her go. Let her stay and have a normal life. Find a normal guy,” I said, but even as the words left my mouth they felt wrong. She was mine. Even if she’d left and found a normal guy, she would still be mine.
“You didn’t fail me or her, son. Quite the opposite,” Mr. Capulet said.
“How can you say that?” I glanced up. “This is all my fault. I’m the reason she’s in this place. I’m the reason she’s in a world of hurt. I’m the reason why she wound up in the hospital the first time. I’m even the reason why she can’t get...why we can’t...” I stopped and clenched my fists.
“Why she can’t get pregnant?”
“Yeah,” I said softly.
He shook his head. “No son, you’re not the reason, although I still owe you a swift kick to the nuts for knocking up my daughter, I truly believe everything happens for a reason. If it wasn’t for that incident. That moment in her life. If you would never have met her and she never lost the baby, she might never have gotten clean. Plus, she’s told me what you’ve done for her. How you saved her on more than one occasion. And I don’t hate you, son. I far from hate you. Andrea and I spoke a lot while she was back home. She’s a strong girl and she’s capable of making her own choices. She chose you for a reason. I’m not saying there is an excuse for what she’s done in the past. I don’t even think being an addict is really a proper term to describe her.”
“What word would you use?” I asked, because I’d often thought the same thing.
Mr. Capulet smiled. “Human.”
“Still. She’s given me so much. I haven’t given her shit.”
“I wouldn’t say that, son. You’ve given her more than you know.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“You said she knows all of it, right? Everything?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered. “She does.”
“Well then you’ve given her you. There isn’t much more to give her than that.”
“Sometimes I wonder what good am I?”
“To her? You’re priceless.”
I looked back over to my wife. Who was going to live and I finally felt like some of the weight bearing down on my soul was starting to lift.
“You’ve also given her something I never could,” he added.
I spun around. “Yeah? What’s that?”
His eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “Happiness, son. Happiness.” He pinched his nose and wiped his eyes, changing the subject. “You know, you should write your story down someday. Write your memoirs. You’ve got some interesting stuff there.”
I scoffed at the idea. “Yeah, and what would I call it? Alive Preppy, Dead Preppy?”