Chapter 6 - The Packing of the Lies
By 4:00 p.m., the driveway of the Severn River house was crowded with cardboard boxes. Melissa was crying hysterically as a private tow truck hooked up her white BMW—the lease had defaulted the moment Walter pulled the corporate guarantee path. Two uniform police officers stood by the garage, ensuring that only personal belongings were removed from the property.
Brian was packing his clothes into cheap plastic garbage bags, his movements frantic and clumsy. The arrogance that had defined him during the 70th birthday dinner had completely vanished, replaced by the hollow, broken expression of a man who had realized his entire fake existence had been dismantled in less than a month.
Walter stood on the front porch, the cracked step beneath his shoes, watching the remnants of his son’s parasitic lifestyle being loaded into the back of a rented U-Haul van.
"Dad," Brian said, walking up to the porch steps, holding a single garbage bag. His voice was small, stripped of all bravado. "Where am I supposed to go? I don't have enough cash for a security deposit on an apartment. My credit is ruined."
Walter looked at his son—the little boy he had taught to fish in the Severn River, the boy Helen had begged him to love fiercely. "You are thirty-six years old, Brian. You have a college degree you never used and a brain you only used to deceive people. You will go where every adult goes when they fail: you will find a job, you will rent a small room, and you will learn the value of a dollar you actually earned."
"You really hate me, don't you?" Brian whispered, a tear finally cutting through the grime on his face.
May you like
"No, Brian," Walter said softly, his heart aching with an old, deep sorrow. "If I hated you, you would be spending the next seven years in a state penitentiary with Melissa. I don't hate you. I’m just finally doing what your mother and I should have done fifteen years ago. I’m letting you grow up."
The U-Haul van backed out of the driveway at exactly 6:00 p.m., leaving the cedar-sided house quiet, empty, and clean for the first time in four long years.
