This Much

         “You look fine, sweetie.” James looked at himself in the mirror and turned away, disgusted. It wasn’t his expensive black suit or his pale skin, proof of his endless hours grading papers. No, his plain face was not the problem today.
         “Why am I doing this?” he muttered. Rachael pulled him to her by his sports coat and looked up into his shuttered eyes.
         “Because he was your father.” James pulled away from her and stood in front of the mirror again, tying his tie. ‘What does that mean to me?’ he wanted to ask. But that would only start another argument. Rachael would never understand. Throwing a glance at her smiling family on his refrigerator, he turned to face her and drew her back into his arms.
         “What would I do without you?” he whispered into her hair, breathing in the sweet coconut smell of her familiar shampoo. She tightly wrapped her arms around him as if trying to squeeze some of her love into him. After a moment more, she pulled away.
         “Come on, baby, we have to go. Do you want me to drive?”
         “No, I can handle it.” She grabbed her purse, and he grabbed his keys. Silently, he drove to the church. As they pulled in, James almost grinned at the irony. His father was baptized in a church, and would have his funeral in one, but other than those two occasions, he had never stepped inside.
         James neatly parked his Jeep and shut off the ignition, but didn’t move to get out. Rachael slipped her hand into his, but said nothing. James absent-mindly ran his thumb over her small diamond ring.
         “It’s not too late to leave,” James finally said.
         “Your brother saw us come in. Besides, there’s not another Jeep in the parking lot,” Rachael said lightly, trying to make him smile. Instead, his frown deepened. She was right. The whole lot was filled with Jaguars and Mercedes and the like. ‘Only the best had known him in life, and apparently only the best would know him in death as well,’ James thought bitterly. He reluctantly opened his car door. Almost as soon as he was out of the car, his younger sister, Maggie, came running out, her dark auburn curls flying. She threw herself into James’ arms.
         “Oh Jamie, I’m so glad you came,” she whispered. “Ben was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
         “Of course I came.” She pulled away and James could see tears in her crinkly dark blue eyes, so like his own. Before he could say anything, however, Maggie was already hugging Rachael, and the only two important people in his life were walking into the church, arm in arm. James took a deep breath, shoved his hands into his pockets, and entered the ring.
         The large, ornate church was packed with the most glittering, glitzy people who managed to shine and glimmer even while in dark mourning clothes. Vicky Rodchester managed to outshine them all, despite being clad in all black. James wanted to slink past his mother and take a seat in the pew reserved for his family, but he knew she would spot him before that, so he straightened his posture and took a step towards her. As he predicted, his mother spotted him as soon as he moved and immediately detached herself from the deeply desolated group huddled around her.
         “James!” she cried shrilly. He repressed the urge to roll his eyes.
         “Hello, Mother,” he greeted her coldly and bent down so she could peck his cheek.
         “James, darling, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, still loud enough for everyone to hear.
         He smiled, a fake smile for the crowd. He had been born and raised in her world, he could play too. “Of course I’m here, Mother. He was my father.” Cue teary eyes, and clear the throat, he thought. Luckily for him, Maggie decided to rescue him.
         “Mother,” Maggie called. “Mother we need to go sit down.” As if on cue, Vicky became the poor, grieving widow again and leaned on James for support. Although he thought about letting her fall, James played his role as the dutiful son and helped his mother to their pew in the front. He took his place in the pew, next to his brothers.
         “So you decided to show up, did you Jimmy?” Peter sneered.
         “Yeah, looks like it.” James refused to rise to his brother’s bait.
         “Well, dammit, you just lost me three hundred bucks.”
         “Pocket change to you.” Peter didn’t answer to that and James smiled inwardly. The priest stood up and everyone grew silent, except his mother who was sniffling so loud James wondered if she had hidden a microphone in her dress.
Right from the outset, James tuned out the priest. Whether from habit or because he simply did not want to hear what the priest said, he did not know. Try as he might to think about the baseball game he was missing, all James could think of was his father.

--

         “Excuse me!” They kept talking. “Excuse me, sir!” Not even looking his way. “P-p-pardon me!” Still adamantly refusing to acknowledge him. “DAD!”
Daniel Rodchester looked sharply at his youngest son. “James, I am discussing business,” he said in a voice that may have sounded simply reprimanding to his guest, but to eight-year-old James it was lined with rage.
         “Dad, are you coming to my karate test today?” James asked despite the warning glare his father was shooting at him.
         “No, your mother and I have a benefit this evening. We’ll come the next one.” He turned back to his client with an apologetic smile. James dejectedly shuffled out of the room, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. Just yesterday Daniel had promised to be at James’s test, professing his undying devotion to the boy’s natural athletic talent. He had not been to a test in the two years James had been in class, and it didn’t look like he would ever make one.
         James looked at his much-loved uniform and crumpled it into a ball. He turned around and walked away, not caring that he left dusty footprints the stark white uniform.

--

         Rachael squeezed his hand, trying to give him comfort. James snapped back into the present and gave her a little smile. He looked over at his mother and only sister, who were both crying. Only Maggie’s tears were real.

--
         James stood behind the wall, listening to his younger sister fight his battle.
         “Daddy, I must talk with you,” five-year-old Maggie said seriously. Daniel, who always had time for his one and only little princess, hung up the phone immediately and plopped Maggie on his knee.
         “What is it, beautiful?” he asked. "Don't you like the play kitchen Daddy bought for you?" She frowned at him, her blue eyes for once not twinkling mischievously.
         “Why did you yell at James?” she inquired. Daniel stiffened.
         “He needs to learn that he cannot walk around with his head in the clouds,” Daniel responded shortly.
         “Why?”
         “Because he’s becoming a man, and men needed to keep their head in the game.”
         “Daddy, he’s not a grown-up. He’s ten!”
         “Well we don’t want him growing up into a no-account fool, do we?” Maggie glared at him, indignantly; a “no-account fool” was the worst thing in her father’s world.
         “James won’t be a no-account!” she cried. “He’s going to be an English teacher and teach people!”
         “Is he now?” Apparently this was news to Daniel. James winced. Maybe I should stop her now, he thought.
         But Maggie continued defending her hero. “He says he wants to make sure everyone can read and write and think!”
         Daniel, absentmindedly, set Maggie on her feet. “Go along now, Margaret.” Even though Maggie was Dad’s favorite, she knew not to object. She walked out of the room and whispered to James, “He’s in a mood, Jamie. Watch out!”
         “JAMES!” Daniel bellowed. James winced again, straightened his shoulders, and walked into his father’s den like a doomed man.
         “Yes, sir?”
         “Close the door, James.” James gulped and did as he was told. “What’s this I hear about you becoming a teacher?”
         “It’s true, sir.”
         “What have we discussed, James?”
         “We decided that I would become a lawyer for your company.”
         “That’s right. So why did you change your mind?”
         He opened his mouth to lie, but then remembered that lying was wrong. “Because I don’t want to be a lawyer, sir.”
         “Come here, James,” Daniel said, his face turning red with anger. It was not the first, nor the last time Daniel hit James, but it was the last time James would tell the truth to his father.

--

         “James,” Maggie whispered. James snapped back into reality again and looked up at his sister. “James, it’s time to put the roses on the casket.” He stood up and she handed him a crimson rose. He placed the rose onto his father’s casket and ran his hand along the side in what looked like a touching goodbye, but James wanted to make sure the casket was really there. As he ran his hand along it, a small splinter sliced his palm. Cursing quietly, he walked back to his seat. Had to get in one last laugh, huh? James thought, shaking his head. When the priest continued his sermon, James watched the blood gather in his palm.

--

         James sat outside the principal’s office as his mother sat inside. He tipped his head backwards and pinched the tissue on his nose to stop the blood. He had been bleeding for ten minutes, and the blood had just now slowed. It was all over his school uniform, face, and hands. The door swung open, and Vicky walked out calmly.
         “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Schroeder,” she was saying. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
         “I should hope not,” the principal said disapprovingly. “This is high school, and I hoped that the boys were learning to control their violent tendencies.”
Vicky nodded, bid the principal goodbye, and strode out, James trailing behind her. She refused to even look at him for the rest of the day, and the only words she said to him were, “Clean yourself up. I don’t want blood all over my house.” Late that night, when Daniel came home, James was summoned into his den where his mother sat in the background silently as his father ranted. When he was winding down, Daniel finally asked James a non-rhetorical question.
         “Did you hit him?”
         “Twice,” James lied, hoping it would satisfy his father. He was wrong.
         “Twice?” Daniel asked incredulously. “You let the other boy nearly break your face and you only hit him twice?”
         “Yes, sir.”
         “Can you not fight?”
         “I can, sir.”
         “Are you a faggot, then?” Daniel sneered. “Don’t like fighting?”
         “No, sir, I am not a homosexual.”
         His father stiffened, and clenched his fists. James’ eyes narrowed at his father, refusing to back down for the first time. But instead of hitting him, Daniel told James to go to bed. As James walked up the stairs, he looked at his hands and wished that the stain of blood still on his hands belonged to his father.

--

         Rachael’s gentle cool hands were in his again. She wasn’t looking at him, but she was methodically rubbing his hands, as if she was trying to warm them. He looked over at his sister again, and she turned to face him. He knew that she loved their father, though he could not understand why, but he was not prepared for the pain he saw in her eyes.

--

         James awoke at the sound of his father yelling. It wasn’t a new noise, so James put his head back down. He jerked his head back up when he heard Maggie yelling back.
         Daniel never yelled at Maggie. If he was ever mad at her, he got very quiet. James threw off his covers; Maggie was still yelling, and one never yelled back at Daniel Rodchester.
         He didn’t even bother to put on a shirt, but hurried out of his room. He could hear every word from all the way down the hall.
         “You are sixteen years old, young lady!” Daniel bellowed. “When I tell you to be home at midnight, you are home at midnight. I don’t care what reason you have.”
         “James!” Vicky hissed from her doorway. “Don’t get involved.”
         James sneered at his mother, looking so like his father for a moment that Vicky nearly stepped back. “That is your policy, Mother. Not mine.” He strode down the hallway taking two stairs at a time, but was still too late.
         “I’ll stay out as long as I damn well please, and you’ll do nothing about it, Daniel,” Maggie said coldly. If he had time, James would have been surprised at how cold she could be when she was angry. But he didn’t have any time to let Maggie’s demeanor sink in. Daniel’s eyes widened, his mouth tightened, and he raised his hand. The sound of his hand across Maggie’s cheek filled the house.
Daniel had hit all of his children, but never Maggie. The boys received Daniel's fist; Maggie received a pony. And though James had not been quick enough to stop his father, he was close enough to see the pain and shock in Maggie’s eyes. Both men expected Maggie to hold her cheek, which had an extremely clear handprint marking her skin, and burst into tears. Instead, Maggie raised her angry eyes to meet her father’s, then turned and walked away without a sound.
         James, who had always been protected by Maggie, found his strength. His eyes narrowed as he jumped the last stairs. Daniel stared at his son, not knowing what he was doing until James’ fist connected with Daniel’s eye. Then James gathered his things and left the house.

--

         That was the last night he had seen his father alive, and even though it was six years ago, James’s anger still had not dissipated.
         “What am I doing here?” he asked himself aloud. Rachael looked at him, worried. He looked at the casket for the first time, realizing his father was in there. James stood up. The priest did not stop talking, but everyone suddenly stared at James. He saw no one, however, not even Rachael. He turned and walked up the aisle, away from the casket, away from his family, away from his father, away from them all. His hands clenched in fists, he whispered, “Damn you, Daddy,” as he walked out of the church, filled with guilty relief.