Chapter Text
Dee stumbled barefoot out of the bathroom in Mac and Dennis’s apartment into the living room, still dabbing at the large wet patch on the front of her black dress with toilet paper, her damp heels clutched in her other hand. She grumbled to herself
“If we spill any more of that goddamn stuff, there’ll be nothing left”
Snatching up a pillow from the sofa, she, threw it to the floor and settled herself down inelegantly, crossing her legs and straightening the damp hem of her dress over her knees. Mac and Charlie sat crumpled and diminished together on the leather sofa, still in their black suits and ties.
Dee inspected her heels closely, nose crinkled, ensuring not a speck of the flaky dust had been missed. In the dim light, it was hard to tell. The streetlamps had gone off as it neared 5am. No one had thought to switch on the lights when they’d entered the apartment. Charlie sniffed.
She set her heels down and quietly observed the scene. Dennis had spent the day making sure everyone was impeccably dressed, groomed and on time. He’d been bossy and belligerent, verging on threatening. Now he stood, away from the others, whiskey glass in hand, his tie loosened, leaning against the kitchen counter, scowling into space with red rimmed eyes.
Mac was squeezed in beside Charlie, like a child in a time out. Perpetually unable to keep from fidgeting, his leg jiggled restlessly as he picked at his shredded nails like each cuticle had personally wronged him. He had taken up the position of caretaker before the service, darting between Dennis, Charlie and Dee, making sure they were sufficiently hydrated. He’d handed out Gatorade’s like they were running a marathon and they’d allowed it. It was easier than listening to a lecture on the importance of electrolytes.
Charlie for his part, had barely spoken and had remained unnaturally quiet all day and well into the evening. He was leaning forward now, face in his hands, his gaze fixed on the heaving Ziplock bag that sat glaringly evident on the coffee table. The sight of it seemed to pull all their eyes to it. None of them could avoid it. Charlie had stopped trying to look away.
The plastic bag they’d originally been given at the funeral home had been pierced somehow and throughout the day, ashes had managed to get everywhere. On their shoes, across the floor and countertop of the bar and in the crevices of Dennis’s car. Undoubtedly, he’d still discover flecks of the stuff years from now.
After the sparsely attended service at Paddy’s, the four of them had piled into the range rover and made their way back to the apartment without discussion on the destination.
None of them had any intention of staying at the bar that evening.
During the short drive, they’d hit a pothole and predictably ashes had spilled down Dee’s dress, causing Dennis to finally explode. During his tirade, Mac had wordlessly reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a sealed bag of cinnamon raisin bagels, thrusting them at Dee. His 10 year crusade of getting Dennis to eat 3 meals a day, involved hiding food everywhere, including his car. Dee had stared at it before discarding the bagels out the window and meekly depositing the leaking plastic bag into the Ziplock.
Dee wiped her clean hands on her dress, still feeling the ghost of the gritty stuff under her nails. She desperately wanted to go home and shower before passing out, but the thought of being alone right now kept her fused to the floor. She and Charlie would be staying here for what was left of tonight, or at least until Mac and Dennis kicked them out.
“I’ll take one of those” Dee said to Dennis, looking pointedly at the half empty bottle of whiskey on the counter
Mac jumped a little as her voice cut through the silence like a knife and Dennis looked up sharply, confused before following her gaze to the whiskey bottle. He turned and began pouring out drinks for the others. The room sunk back into silence, only permeated with the creak of floorboards and gentle clink of glasses as Dennis carried their drinks over.
Mac and Dee took their glasses in relief.
“Dude” Mac nudged Charlie gently with his elbow. Charlie looked up blearily to where Dennis stood over him, holding out the whiskey, eyebrows raised. Charlie took the glass and stared down at the amber liquid, evidently unable to remember what he was supposed to do with it. Dennis drank deeply before speaking
“Ok. Well first things first. Dee is right. I will not have that thing leaking everywhere, especially not in my home”
He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, spinning it around and seating himself opposite the others “We have to figure what to...do with it”
“With him” Charlie corrected him, eyes flashing at Dennis as he spoke for the first time in hours. His hoarse voice was unrecognisably fierce. He raised his glass, swallowing his whiskey in one go
Dee glanced at the bag and took a large sip of her drink. In the 20 minutes since they’d arrived, they’d begun to sober up. The cheap liquor reigniting in her blood was like a soothing balm to a blistered burn
“My mom has a nice urn in her room. It’s got my grandma in it. She was the worst. I can just dump her out and we can use that?” Mac suggested
They hadn’t thought to buy an urn. The people at the funeral home hadn’t even suggested it.
Or maybe they had
They definitely had. It’s just none of them had heard it. They hadn’t heard anything.
“We’ll buy one” Dennis stated firmly, taking a larger sip of his drink, eyes still fixed on Charlie who having finished his whiskey returned to his previous position, slumped with his head in his hands
“And then...what do we do with it?” Dee asked quietly.
“I don’t know but we’re not keeping it around. This isn’t a sentimental thing. We can throw it in the trash for all I care. We just need an appropriate container” Dennis said gruffly
“Holy shit these are expensive” Mac exclaimed, thumbing through his phone “Woah some of these are nice”
He held out his phone to Dennis who stood from his chair and bent to peer at the screen.
“Get that one” Dennis said decisively, tapping on it. Mac turned the phone around to look, frowning slightly
“That’s a 200 dollar urn Dennis. We can split the cost between us all, otherwise we’ll just have to pick a crappier one”
Dennis rolled his eyes
“Just buy it Mac”
“You buy it Dennis. I can’t afford it” Mac snapped
Dennis retreated to the kitchen to retrieve the whiskey bottle to refill their already empty glasses
“Yes, you can” he replied quietly, not looking up as he poured
“But-” Mac started
“Check your bank account” Dennis cut across simply, sitting back down on the kitchen chair “ All of you” he added
Mac glanced at Dee who stared back, bewildered. They all went through their phones, searching for their respective, rarely used banking apps.
It took a few minutes, especially for Charlie who hadn’t been aware he even had a bank account. Dennis took pity on him and helped him log in.
The bleak silence was immediately replaced with one of shock as the three of them stared down at their phones.
“He...he split it fourways. For each of us” Dennis said, looking at his own screen. The blue light, illuminating his sharp features in the dark
The phone in Mac’s hand had gone slack, he was staring out the window. Charlie blinked down at his screen with the same enthusiasm as if he were reading stocks. Dee felt the room shrinking around her and a bubble of hysteria rose in her throat
“Ok well...We’re rich. This is...this is great”
She felt a crazed smile stretch over her face as she spoke. Her hands began to shake, and she dug her nails into her palms. No one responded. She stood suddenly and left the room, walking back into Dennis’s bathroom to throw up, unable to keep it quiet.
---
1 hour earlier
Dennis had long since ushered out the remaining 5 or so people that Frank hadn’t completely severed his relationships with, none of whom the gang recognized. The four sat together on stools, several beers deep.
Without warning, in one motion, Charlie stood from his stool and hurled his beer full force at the stocked bar shelves. It exploded against several bottles which in turn fell and smashed. The other three looked blankly from the mess to Charlie. As if given permission, Dennis seized his own bottle, throwing it with all the aggression he could muster at the shelves. It hit the mirror which cracked spectacularly. More bottles fell to the ground, exploding with a shower of cheap alcohol. The sound was intoxicating. Droplets fell across the bar like rain and Dennis gave a short wild laugh that made the hair on Macs arms stand on end.
The numb spell had broken to be replaced with a crazed hysteria as Dee and Mac threw their beers too and Dennis moved behind the bar, sweeping the shelves with his arm, snatching up trinkets and glasses and hurling them across the room. Glass and alcohol showered them as Mac lifted the stool he’d been sitting on and broke it against the bar narrowly missing Dee, adding the sound of splintering wood to the cacophony of chaos. Charlie retrieved his rat stick, Mac a pool cue and before long the four of them had devolved into a screaming, feral gang of teenagers, smashing and breaking every bit of the bar they could reach. Their teeth glinted in grimaces of vindictive pleasure as they tore down pictures and overturned tables, doing everything they could to wound and maim the bar that had stolen their lives.
Finally, the pub was in ruins and the gang began to come back to themselves as the adrenaline abated. They stood panting amidst the devastation. Dee shook glass out of her hair as Charlie crouched down to the floor weakly, hand over his eyes, his shoes crunching beneath him. He began to weep openly.
Dennis flinched as Mac, suddenly beside him, wiped a bit of blood from his cheek with the side of his thumb. His brown eyes were wide.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here” Dennis muttered to Mac who nodded and moved to hoist a still sobbing Charlie from the floor under his arms. Dennis took Dee’s hand, helping her step over the wreckage and the four exited the building without a word.
They would never discuss this.
---
Upon returning from the bathroom, Dee stood pale and shaking in the doorway and looked at her broken family gathered in the living room that was slowly filling with morning light. She’d been shackled to Mac and Charlie since she was 14 and to Dennis before she’d even formed a heartbeat. It was too late. There was no breaking those chains now. She took a deep breath before speaking, her mouth sour
“He wanted to do that road trip. Remember? To the Grand Canyon”
The others looked up
A soft yellow light was filling the dark room
The sun had begun to rise.