The Muse's Undoing

Lunch feels like a summoning. Like I’m some demon my so-called family conjured. The way they all watch my approach with caution in their eyes makes me light up with rage.

I take my seat and order a bloody Mary, enjoying Donna’s wince.

“Fischer,” Dick says gently from my left. “Thank you for coming.”

I glare at him. He’s not immune here. I cast my gaze at Donna once again. “Go ahead. I don’t have all day, and I’m sure you all have better things to do.”

“Nothing is more important than this,” she hisses, like she’s trying to keep us from being overheard. Interesting choice meeting in public, although, to her credit, we’re on the Upper West Side. “What has your lawyer done to fix this?”

“That’s privileged,” I say.

“Fischer.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“My grandson is my business.”

“Correction—Vaughn is my child. You’re no longer my guardian. You have no grandchildren.”

Maggie gasps.

Donna, however, isn’t playing. “I’m not your guardian, Fischer. I’m your mother. Whether you like it or not, you don’t age out of adoption. We’re as related in the eyes of this state as Maggie and I are.”

I grimace because she’s right, and I’d do well to remember that. There’s a reason Nicole’s threat holds weight. New York doesn’t view adopted siblings any differently than blood-related siblings.

“Where’s Matthew?” I ask.

“We thought it was better not to have him here,” Maggie says quietly.

I’d been stupid to hope then. I’ve been stupid for a long time. Why it still surprises me is a mystery.

“How else can I help you all?” I ask.

“Son,” Dick begins in that gentle way he has—so much like Matthew. “I know this has to feel like we’re all against you, but we’re on your side. No one wants to see you have your son taken away.”

I clench my jaw, suddenly close to losing my composure. I clear my throat. “Has anyone spoken to Nicole?”

Silence.

“No?” I ask to clarify, glancing specifically at Maggie who gives her head a small shake and then Donna who looks down at her plate.

“So you’re all comfortable letting her believe that I groomed your child from a very young age in order to eventually become my lover but only after I married a woman, had a child, and then got divorced? And that I would do this again with my own flesh and blood? That’s your position?”

“Jesus, Fischer,” Maggie whispers.

“That’s what had to have happened right? Because it couldn’t possibly have happened the way Matthew said it did. I had to have been planning this for years. Just biding my time until my wife who I chose left me because I was living overseas for months at a time. Makes perfect sense. I don’t know how I managed to pull the wool over your eyes for so long. My plan was so obvious.”

“Enough,” Donna says.

Our gazes clash.

“You’ve made your point.”

“I hope so,” I say. “You’re all disgusting if you think I would ever hurt a child. No offense, Maggie, but I don’t blame Stuart’s parents for not wanting to be associated with this family.”

Her eyes go wide, and I admit, that was a low blow, but no one’s asking her to give up what I’m being asked to. She seems to get that and keeps her mouth shut.

My drink is served, and I take a sip. “What else?” I ask.