GEORGE

That dumb drunk, George thought, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, as he walked into the kitchen. An empty Smirnoff bottle lay on its side on the kitchen counter.

At least she was a functioning alcoholic. She smiled sincerely. She greeted warmly. She dressed impeccably. She laughed appropriately. She spoke intelligently. No swaying, no slurring. Perfect balance and perfect pitch. The ideal wife. Charming. Smart. Sophisticated. Devoted to him and his career. Devoted to her son, who was away at a private school now.

The cover story was working great. No one thought it odd or unusual that George and Astrid would pull Nathan out of public school and send him to a private school upstate. A private school for gifted and talented youngsters. Yes, Nathan was gifted and talented, all right. Gifted and talented at starving himself nearly to death with a girl’s disease. Gifted and talented at blaming his parents, especially his father, for what was wrong with him. Gifted and talented at being as messed up, pathetic, and useless as his mother. Gifted and talented at causing uproar in the family, at making waves that had no business being made, and all for what? Attention? Special treatment? What was wrong with that boy, anyway?

Nathan was no longer his concern.

But Astrid still was. She attacked him for being horrible to her when he only treated her the way she deserved to be treated. Nathan’s therapists and nurses egged her on. They said he should listen to what was being said to him.

Which came back to Nathan in the end. Nathan’s team said that since George resisted the therapeutic process, he might be doing Nathan more harm than good. They said he shouldn’t come to any more sessions until he was willing to accept his role in how Nathan ended up where he had.

Oh really? When he had so many cases to handle, so many briefs and depositions to prepare for? When his case load had tripled? These people who barely knew Nathan believed the kid’s delusions without asking George’s side of the story, without trying to double-check their facts. He wasn’t about to be tried without being able to testify on his own behalf. He had no desire to be found guilty in front of a kangaroo court full of quacks.

So he gladly left that last “family therapy” session. He gladly took himself out of that fiasco, Astrid crying and screaming behind him, as he tried to put as much distance between himself and what he had left. He made it to the parking garage before Astrid and he took off, leaving her there. Let her take a taxi home. He had work to do.

George didn’t care if Nathan was discharged before he was fully recovered, or whatever they were waiting for. The kid wasn’t his problem anymore. George’s own father had set him free at Nathan’s age. What was good for George was good for Nathan. He no longer felt any obligation toward his son. He was done.

Nathan had become an emancipated minor, so he could go on welfare in order to get the insurance coverage he needed to stay in the hospital. Great. Now his son was a welfare case. At least Nathan was his own man now, which was how it should be.

Astrid knew Nathan’s discharge date was close, if not passed. That explained the Smirnoff bottle on the counter and the other one in the kitchen sink. Two bottles in two days. Let her drown herself, let her wallow in her sorrow. She was the reason Nathan turned out the way he did. She didn’t deserve to be the kid’s mother, considering how badly she messed him up. It served her right.

At least the kid’s discharge date was close to the end of school here. There would be a good excuse to give if any of his co-workers saw Nathan around town, assuming Nathan stayed in town. As long as the stories lined up, as long as everything looked the way he wanted it to look, he was good.

He didn’t miss Nathan at all, not one bit. Good riddance. Life was easier without him around. It was bad enough he had to deal with Astrid. That took all the energy he wanted to spare.

One train wreck in the house was more than enough.