Emma doesn't call for a few days, and then texts me out of nowhere, demanding a ride to family dinner on Sunday. Ok, she didn't demand. But I don't even know how the hell she found out about the dinner, unless she's been texting with Alice and Juniper. If that's the case, then I am well and truly screwed when it comes to ending this whole thing. Sure, sex with Emma is amazing. But then we always end up in a fight and it's too much work to make peace. Now she's hanging out with my sisters in law. They're getting way too friendly. It's starting to feel like an actual relationship with Emma, and that's a lot of work I'm not interested in doing.
I'm cold and distant when I pick her up, and I can see by her face that she's pissed at that. I'm not even sure why, but I really dig into her and say, "You didn't have a seizure aura today did you?"
She whips her head around to glare at me. "No. What makes you ask that?"
"You're acting like something crawled up your ass and bit you," I sneer at her, knowing full well she's just responding to my bad attitude. I don't even know why the fuck I am picking at Emma. Probably because I had a shit week after seeing my father, a shit meeting with my agent, and now I don't feel like playing pretend at my family dinner.
Emma just sighs and stares out the window. I must be acting like a dick if Emma Cheswick doesn't even feel like fighting with me. Fuck it.
We get to the house and Emma disappears with Alice and her sister. Amy looks a little bit like she's going to explode, but I hear her tell Alice she still has 3 weeks left at least. I try to remember what Alice looked like pregnant with my nephew, but that draws up a memory of my mother, swollen and round, pregnant with Ty. I don't have the space to be thinking about my mother today so I head out back to the cooler where Tim keeps the good beer.
I don't even pause to appreciate how it tastes. I work on drinking it quickly until I hear my younger brother coming toward me. "What's eating you, Thatch?" Ty is Mr. Good Mood, sauntering shirtless into the back yard.
"Why the fuck do you look like that?" I gesture at his mesh shorts and sweaty hair.
He shrugs and cracks open a beer. "Juniper and I ran here."
"From Washington's Landing? What's that, like 3 miles uphill?" I chug the beer even faster now. Literally everything is pissing me off today.
Ty sips his beer. "Four and a half. We went around the zoo. Hey, man, take it easy." He sticks out an arm to slow me as I open a second beer, but I shove him out of the way. I down it and grab a third. Used to be, the three of us went running together every Sunday and then ate pancakes with our grandma. Now Ty runs with Juniper. Who even knows if Tim leaves the house anymore. I've been running alone.
When I get back inside, Alice's brothers are watching baseball on the couch, so I sink in next to them and try to ignore everyone until it's time to eat. I'm feeling just about buzzed enough to calm down after 3 beers, but everyone definitely stares at me when I take a seat opposite Emma instead of next to her.
The table creaks under the weight of 12 sets of elbows, and I focus on the scratched wood, precariously heaped with corn, tomatoes, and grilled chicken. Eventually I become aware that someone is talking to me when there's a lull. "What?"
Emma clears her throat. "I was just telling them that I got a new assignment to interview the director at the Center for Organ Research. The national headquarters is here in Pittsburgh, and they're going to talk to me all about organ donation."
"That's fucking morbid, Emma." I shove a forkful of chicken into my mouth. I know I've hurt her. She's so interested in everything, always wants to research different things and learn more until all her damn questions are answered.
She narrows her eyes at me. "Well, some things are morbid, Thatcher."
Tim makes a face and puts down his fork. "Our mother was an organ donor," he says. We all stare at him, and Emma, sitting beside him, puts a hand on his shoulder. What the fuck is going on here? She has no right to be comforting my brother about our dead mom.
"Nobody wants to talk about organs and dead bodies over family dinner," I grunt, emphasizing family and glaring at Emma. She pulls her hand back into her lap and raises an eyebrow at me. "Why don't you ever write about anything pleasant?"
"Oh, like a smarmy ladies man who sticks glass in the gardens?" Emma tosses her napkin down on her plate. Ty and Tim stare at us, but I don't say anything. Fucking Emma keeps going, though. "Thatcher might be an interesting source for this piece about organ donation," she says to the room at large.
Ty pipes up, "Why would anyone care about Thatcher for a story about that?"
I shake my head and kick her under the table. Oh fuck. Please, shut up, Emma. Fuck. No. But I'm not fast enough. She blurts, "Because he's looking into the living donor program." I guess this is how she responds to me being rude on purpose. By airing out my shit to my nosy family.
I breathe slowly through my nose, trying to hold my shit together. I want to throttle her right now. "I can't fucking believe you, Emma."
She stares at me and I glare back at her.
"What's all this?" Tim is in full dad-mode now, leaning forward past Amy, who starts to interject about all the living kidney donors she treats at work and how great that is.
Amy looks at me. "Are you donating a kidney to someone?" She looks back at Emma, who is red in the face and shifting in her chair uncomfortably. I hope she feels bad now that she's stirred up the Stag family drama.
"I think you should leave now, Emma," I say, my voice cold. My family all stares at me. I'm going to have to hash it out with them now. They won't fucking ease up until I tell them everything, and I am furious.
Emma just nods and stands up. She stumbles a little walking toward the door, and Alice runs over to her. "Emma, wait. How are you going to get home? Tim will drive you."
"Alice," Tim says, his eyes on me, his voice flat. "Call Emma a car service. I think my brothers and I need to have a talk." He stands from the table, throwing down his napkin and gesturing toward the garage out back. The Petersons all cough uncomfortably and Alice's brothers keep eating, but Ty stands up. Sighing, I follow them out back. Might as well face the music.
Ty shoves me against the wall. "The fuck is wrong with you, talking to Emma like that? And why the hell would you get angry-drunk at family dinner?"
"Enough," Tim says, crossing his arms, staring at me like he used to when I came in at 2am on a school night. "Tell me what the hell is going on. Leave nothing out."
An hour later, Tim screams at Ty to put a shirt on and he drags us all into his Volvo. "Where the hell are we going?" I sneer at him from the back seat. He just grits his teeth. I know full well he's driving us to the hospital.
"We're going to confront him," Tim says, "and tell him we hope he dies a slow and painful death, and that he is absolutely not risking your life to take one of your fucking organs, Thatcher."
"It wasn't his idea," I say. "He doesn't even know I met with the counselor about it." I had gotten my results back earlier in the week and I am a perfect match for my father, in perfect health.
"Tell me again what your plan was here, bro?" Ty grabbed another plate of food from the house and is eating in Tim's car, swatting his hand away when he tries to take the messy food. "You were going to get the money for your project and then, like, get your body parts chopped out and rest up for a year?"
"Something like that."
"At what point were you going to inform us of this master plan," Tim spits out. "Did you think we would just not notice when you showed up with a cane and a giant scar?"
"Do you really think you would notice, Timber?"
"Fuck you, Thatcher." He slams the car into park and starts walking toward the entrance. We follow him, the three of us slowing down as we approach the room where Ted Stag is fully unprepared to see us en masse, for the first time in 15 years.
He drops the book he was holding as the three of us stand in the doorway. Tim grinds his teeth, seeping fury and pent up rage. Ty looks like he's going to cry, taking deep, heaving breaths. Our father looks back and forth at the three of us, our mother's grey eyes staring coldly back at him. I know we look intimidating. Hell, we were intimidating as kids. We're grown ass men now, all over 6 feet tall, and pissed as hell. Our father speaks first. "Good to see you again, Timber. Should I kick you out of my space this time?"
"What is he talking about," Ty asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"This asshole tried to crash your party," Tim says, not breaking his stare at our father. "After your first game with the Fury. I had him ejected."
"What?" It's my turn to feel shocked. Our sanctimonious brother saw our dad and never fucking told us? And somehow I'm a dick for keeping secrets?
"If he can't be there when we need him most," Tim grits out, "he doesn't get to be present when we celebrate."
Ted Stag swallows and his head flops back against the bed. "I suppose that's fair." He looks out the window. "Thatcher told you this is it for me?"
Now it's Ty's turn to speak up. "He fucking told us you have an opportunity to get sober."
Dad scoffs. "You think I want someone's liver? You think I'd take that? Would you want your mother's liver to go to me?" Tim recoils like he'd been shot. God, now I'm thinking about who got our mother's organs, who got to use her final gifts.
"Ok," Ty says, his voice shaking. "So you don't get a second chance at life. But don't you want to spend your final days sober? You only get one fucking life, Dad. You think Mom wouldn't fight like hell to enjoy every second of this?"
"Your mother was always better than me," he says. "In every way." A tear rolls down his cheek, but I can't drum up the energy to feel bad for him.
A few minutes of tense silence pass before I place a hand on each of my brothers' shoulders. I lead them into the hallway and, as soon as we're in the elevator, I pull them in for a group hug. For a long time, we just hold each other, not speaking, communicating everything and nothing all at once.