Watching Glass Shatter Page 8

  Matt flipped the channel to the Yankees game hoping they'd finally pitch a no-hitter that season. He needed to bust Ethan's chops about it, as rubbing his team's wins in his brother's face brought him extreme joy. Always in good fun.

  He leaned back into the couch and grabbed the report he'd finished working on earlier in the day before he left the office. Matt wanted to ensure it was ready for his brother's input. Matt had only joined the family law practice earlier that year, as Ben had finally gained confidence his son amassed enough experience to handle larger accounts. Although Ben had offered to let Matt take lead on the family law practice's and its associated charities' finances, he still required an outside accounting auditor review them quarterly. Another reason he wished his father was still around. Matt was frustrated dealing with Teddy's arrogance and frigid temperament when it came to the law practice.

  When they previously disagreed about setting billing terms for Teddy's client, even though precedent noted Matt was right during their weeks of arguments, the final response from Teddy was a note given to his secretary to hand deliver to Matt: “It would seem to me I make those decisions around here, Matt. Please set the terms as I already explained. Discussion closed.” Matt later dropped several chocolate laxatives into his brother's lunch that afternoon, stealing the idea from their brother Zach. It was the only way he could retaliate on an equal playing field.

  Matt laughed aloud when he recalled the two biggest events occurring at the office the afternoon he'd finally got revenge on his brother. First, the entire secretarial pool took bets on why Teddy left at two o'clock, the only time they'd ever seen him leave the office before anyone else. Teddy's own assistant came closest when she suggested he left to put on his big boy pants for a client meeting, not realizing he'd spent the entire time nearly destroying his shorts. And second, everyone kept blaming the new file clerk as the one who left the nasty smell emanating from the men's bathroom, causing the girl from Human Resources to pass out in poor Ms. Davis' arms. Neither woman could glance at one another since that day, especially when the HR woman awoke with her face buried in Ms. Davis' ample breasts. Despite the woman being his father's business partner, and maybe even his own boss, Matt still couldn't stop himself from checking out Ms. Davis' healthy rack on occasion.

  Though Matt was doing well for himself as an accountant managing the books for a few other law firms in Connecticut, other than his father's practice, he hadn't landed any other influential accounts. Ben had planned to introduce his son to colleagues who owned firms closer to New York City where Matt could build a name on his own. But they hadn't gotten around to it, as mentoring Teddy to take over the family practice had stolen the priority the last few months.

  Matt once again flipped through the monthly report tabulating the incoming revenue and growing operating expenses. Many of the firm's assets had fully depreciated the prior year leaving little to zero write-offs for him to include. At that rate, the firm wouldn't achieve their profit margins. He was certain his father hadn't mentioned these facts to his two partners. Matt placed the report on the table deciding he needed more time before talking with Teddy about the finances at the firm, given he had a few other pressing matters.

  He watched the Yanks win the game despite giving up two hits—he threw the pillow at the TV. “You're better than this, boys!” After turning off the TV, he grabbed his checkbook to pay the landscapers. Scrolling through the online register on his laptop, he perused the upcoming bills. The mortgage was due in a few days plus payments on the new van they'd bought to accommodate three children's safety seats. And they needed to put an extension on the house to add more bedrooms, as the girls barely squeezed by in two small rooms. Matt couldn't think about money anymore and decided to call his brother to check in.

  “Hey, Matt. What's up?” Ethan said.

  “Yanks and the Knicks won tonight. Boston's a pathetic loser. Again. Third time this week. You pick the worst teams.”

  “Dude, you are ruthless. We're gonna catch up. It's my year. I know it.”

  “Sure. I've got a dinosaur to sell you, too. So, what's going on?

  “Eh, I'm exhausted. Working way too much, but it'll all come together. I have a few days off next week and hope to take Emma away for a long weekend.”

  “You serious about her?”

  “Yeah. She's the one. I need advice.”

  “That's cool. Be careful she doesn't get pregnant, man. Kids are expensive!” Matt perused the credit card statement containing all the sports groups and social clubs Margaret had selected to cultivate each daughter's physical and intellectual abilities. Margaret believed if they offered more options, each girl would determine her own strengths and latch onto the right hobbies and talents. By the end of each month, they'd spent all their remaining disposable income on the girls with little put away for future savings.

  “I'm not ready for kids. I'm still finishing school, Matt. Hopefully, one day.”

  “Don't wait too long to propose. Dad's gone. I'm worried about Mom.” Matt thought about his daughters who would grow up without ever getting to know their grandfather. He'd relied on his father's advice about everything in his life.

  “Mom's strong. I spent time with her after the will. Hopefully, Dad's left her enough money to support herself. I'm a little worried about the letters. I hope it's nothing serious, like over losing the money or anything.”

  “You think? No, I'm sure it's fine.”

  “We'll see. I need to ask you something.” Ethan's voice held a quiet longing for someone to listen.

  “Listen, I gotta go. Talk soon. Love ya, man.” Matt's financial distractions took up residence once again in his mind.

  “Matt, I need to talk to you. Got a few minutes?”

  Matt never heard him and hung up, pacing the room. He'd forgotten about the letters the attorney had mentioned, which prompted him to worry over his own inheritance. Matt and Margaret hadn't even thought about college for the girls and would soon have to pay for private school for their eldest daughter. He wanted to have more children, especially to have a son, but it wasn't financially possible in their current circumstances. He preferred water torture over participating in that conversation with Margaret, as it quickly approached time to plan the next kid to stay on their schedule.

  Though it would be difficult, he needed to expedite getting his inheritance. He had a balloon payment due on the loan he'd taken out the prior year for the family van. It was too late to call the attorney to get a status on the timing for his share of his father's estate. He decided to call Teddy in the morning to cancel their meeting on the firm and ask him to close on the estate with Mr. Rattenbury as soon as possible. The auditor's meeting could wait.

  Matt's eye twitched as he opened his briefcase and grabbed the bottle tucked into the inner pocket. He convinced himself he should take two more to sleep better that night. It had worked the last few evenings and the entire week of the funeral. He'd only blacked out one time after taking the pills, and no one else knew a cop had once found him passed out in a ditch by the side of the road not too far from where Ben had crashed.

  Chapter 8 – Ethan

  Ethan crossed State Street to Faneuil Hall to order breakfast for Emma on the way home from his overnight shift at the hospital. The deep and heavy bags beneath his twenty-three-year-old eyes revealed a long night in the ER had occupied his time. It was his fifth consecutive night at the hospital since he'd returned home from the funeral, and he needed the next twenty-four-hour down period to recuperate both emotionally and physically.

  Paying for two egg sandwiches, bananas, and a raspberry scone, he pocketed the change from his favorite brunch restaurant, ran his fingers through his thick hair, and set off toward the bike rack across the street to pedal home to the apartment he shared with his girlfriend. Emma, who had graduated from college with a degree in music education, had been preparing a fall ensemble for the school where she finished her student teaching. After generating renewed interest in the fail
ing chorale program with an enthusiastic and interactive approach, she had been offered a job as Boston Prep's Chorale Assistant Director, a position she was more than happy to accept.

  He and Emma had dated for two years before moving in together at the end of the spring semester the previous month. He'd wanted to find a new place rather than keep either of their apartments since both leases came due, but Emma was over the moon to decorate his loft. He'd been lucky when he first moved to Boston and found a sweet deal, as the owner had converted it from a former baking factory. On most days, he could still catch a whiff of its yeasty, buttery smell—an instant comfort to his senses. Given his long hours at the hospital, Ethan suggested Emma take full reign to decorate their apartment. All he'd accomplished since moving in a few years prior was to buy furniture, install a few curtains on the oversized windows and add a couple of rugs to the cement floors to warm up the place in the winter. Emma had recently purchased paint colors, and her excitement bubbled over in anticipation of showing him during breakfast.

  Ethan crossed back over State Street to locate his two-speed bike and head toward their loft twenty blocks away. Traffic was sparse early in the morning, but tons of runners roamed the streets. Tossing the sandwiches, bananas, and scone in his backpack, he hopped on his bicycle and joined the traffic pattern heading west. As he rode through the street, his mind drifted to his family. He still woke most mornings with watery eyes and a knot in his chest, saddened over how much he missed his dad.

  As the last of the boys, Ethan benefited the most from his dad's experience as a father. When Ethan arrived, Ben had the right balance of mentor, teacher, friend, and confidante. He was more open-minded and accepting with Ethan, especially as Ethan was a good five to ten years younger than his brothers. His father would always tell him he wanted all his sons working with him at the family law practice, but knew practicality came before reality. And when Ethan's wide-eyed welcoming approach to the world branded him the apple of his father's eye, Ethan earned the liberty to do whatever he wanted in life, always having his father's respect and love no matter what path he chose.

  When Ben unexpectedly died, Ethan was comforted to know it occurred from an accident and not a disease that ravaged and ripped apart his father's mind, as it did during his grandparents' final days. But not having an opportunity to say goodbye to his father before he passed was also difficult. By the time Ethan became a teenager, his brothers had all left for college. Ethan found ways to spend extra time with his parents and grandparents, hoping to create strong memories by joining his mother's charities and volunteering with her on holiday mornings to work at soup kitchens. He learned golf, so he could play a few rounds with his father on Sunday mornings at Willoughby Country Club. His friends would often tease Ethan, calling him 'momma's boy' and 'daddy's boy,' but Ethan didn't mind. He loved his family, holding no fears in showing it or spending time with them.

  Ethan stopped his bicycle at the light as it turned red at the intersection. His mind suddenly became distracted by memories of his late paternal grandfather, William Glass. He recalled the winter when he turned fourteen, and his grandfather, who had turned ninety, built a wooden gameboard they could use to play Scrabble…

  “Ethan, my boy, you need to hold the sandpaper more tightly if you want to get an even surface. It's about consistency and focus,” Grandpa William said.

  “Like this?” Ethan asked.

  “Exactly. Put your elbow into it. As smooth as a polished floor, son.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “How's the family tree project coming along?

  “Good. Dad gave me information on Grandma since she's no longer alive, but I need to know a little more about you.”

  “Go ahead, shoot.”

  “Dad's got three older brothers and four older sisters, right?

  “Yes… kiddo. Your dad is the youngest.”

  “What else can you tell me about them?

  “Not much more to tell. Not much more I remember…”

  “When did you and Grandma get married?”

  “Oh, sixty years ago, Matty.”

  “I'm Ethan.”

  “That's what I meant. How's the table leg coming along? Let me look.”

  “Okay, I'm done with this one.”

  “Very good, Teddy. You're learning.”

  “But Grandpa…”

  “Let me go tell your grandmother how good you're doing.”

  “But Grandma passed away.”

  “I know she did. I said your father, Ethan.”

  A honking SUV behind him pushed Ethan from the diversion as he pedaled his way back home reflecting on his grandfather's failed health. Soon after finishing the table, Ethan's grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and unable to live on his own. Ben chose to move his father, William, into the family home in Brandywine, which meant Ethan saw him every day. Since his grandfather was confined to his bedroom in the last few months, he and Ethan played scrabble each afternoon when school ended and checkers before bed. All on the gameboard they built together.

  Ethan recalled sitting by his side at night watching his grandfather breathe, hoping each new medicine would have a dramatic impact, but it never happened. On several nights near the end, his emaciated grandfather grew angry and scared, jumping out of bed, screaming for his wife who'd been gone for many years. Watching his grandfather go through the torture of not recognizing family members, fighting with nurses over medication, and forgetting how to eat deeply impacted Ethan.

  Shortly after William passed away, Eleanor, Ethan's maternal grandmother succumbed to the same disease, but she passed away quickly. Ethan and Eleanor shared the same passion for researching the family's history and finding as many treasures and records as possible. He tried to teach her how to use the computer, but she couldn't remember how, even before she got sick. On many occasions, Ethan had to re-enter the data about their ancestors into the software program, as she kept overwriting each person with someone else's birthdates and marriages. He finally got wise to her mistakes and kept backup copies, so he only lost a few days' work from time to time. The passing of his grandparents, as well as the emptiness of the family home, affected Ethan as deeply as his parents. Fear and melancholy compelled him to maintain a sense of stability and continuity within the family, even if it was only him and his parents most of the time. While it was traumatic for two of Ethan's favorite people to die within a year of each other and not have his brothers around every day to lean on, it inspired him to map his career path with accelerated speed. He enrolled in Boston University to get his undergrad degree and doctorate in geriatric medicine. He was determined to cure the disease, to improve his patient's lives, and to ease recoveries.

  Ethan's left arm signaled as he gripped the handlebar with his right hand, turning onto his one-way street and pulling near the front of the loft at the end of the block. He locked the bike to an open slot on the outside rail and strolled toward the building's side entrance. He lived on the third floor and enjoyed walking the stairs rather than riding the elevator. As he hopped the last one, his phone vibrated. Ethan clicked accept and read the message from his brother.

  Matt: Red Shits lost again, kid. You got no chance at the World Series this year.

  Ethan: The slow and steady turtle's gonna win this race.

  Matt: Ha! Crawl back in your shell. Hell will freeze over before you score.

  Ethan: Don't be so sure. I got a good feeling.

  Matt: Seriously? If you diagnose patients like you pick teams, I'm never coming to you. Not even for a cold. Maybe hemorrhoids. Yeah. You can fix those for me, Doc Loser!

  Ethan ignored his brother's last reply, inserted his key in the door, rolled the heavy metal into the wall and stepped into his apartment. Emma stood on a stepstool in the kitchenette behind a cupboard door, her cut-off denim shorts covering all but the lower semi-circle of her tempting cheeks as she reached for plates on the top shelf. The bottom of his Boston University t-shirt tied around her wai
st given it was at least three sizes too large, presented an alluring treat for Ethan where it landed on her mid-section.

  Emma retrieved the plates and stepped down the ladder adjusting the set of chopsticks stuffed inside her auburn hair to keep it pulled back and off her face. She stared back at him with milk-chocolate eyes as her petite frame and long, shapely legs danced across the floor in comfortable ballet slippers. Her eclectic yet girly style always brought a smile to Ethan's face, especially given how beautifully any article of clothing she wore flattered her body.

  “Breakfast first. Then you need to peruse the colors I picked out for the walls. You'll love them, for sure.” Emma spoke with a child-like intensity.

  Ethan pulled off his sweater, poured two cups of coffee and grabbed the milk and sugar for Emma. He preferred his coffee black, needing the rich and bold flavor and thick, mud-like consistency to wake him each day.

  Emma unpacked the treats he selected for them and sliced the scone in half. One half crumbled over the table as she separated the pieces, causing Ethan to tease her. “You make some of the biggest messes.” She lit up, as always, with a stunning smile and expression, filling Ethan with warmth.

  “Well, if you don't want any of the scone, I can finish it myself.” A suggestive desire accompanied her words as she licked the pastry.

  “Nonsense.” He swatted at her hand as she ran around the table. “Give it to me now or pay the price later.” His French accent always made her laugh.