{"id":13099,"date":"2025-08-13T03:17:15","date_gmt":"2025-08-13T08:17:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/?page_id=13099"},"modified":"2026-02-26T18:00:23","modified_gmt":"2026-02-26T23:00:23","slug":"filthy-lucre","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/extras\/vignettes-outtakes\/dirty-little-secrets\/filthy-lucre\/","title":{"rendered":"Filthy Lucre"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

APRIL 1996<\/p>\n

Sebastian: 30<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

SEBASTIAN KNEW better than to drive his Ferrari, but his dad had his truck, so he rented a newish Toyota Corolla and headed home.<\/p>\n

Home. The house where he grew up, where his keepsakes were tidily and safely packed away, and where he\u2019d learned how to become a millionaire. Objectively, he thought as he parked behind his own dilapidated Ford pickup, it was actually a quite nice house, especially for the neighborhood, which had gone downhill.<\/p>\n

He got out of the car, then went across the street to study the house he hadn\u2019t seen in over ten years. It was a variation on a Kansas City Shirtwaist, two stories instead of three, a first floor clad in pristine brick instead of river stone, and a much smaller footprint. It had a deep porch with a swing and a beadboard ceiling painted haint blue, the clapboard siding above the porch around the second floor was a crisp white, and the shutters were the same haint blue as the porch ceiling. The roof had new light gray shingles. The lawn was lush and meticulously kept, the trees and yews were well pruned, and the box on the side of the house was bursting with irises and gladiolas.<\/p>\n

It hadn\u2019t always been this nice. He could remember when the paint was perpetually peeling and chipping, the brick was filthy, the porch ceiling was rotting and sagging and dripped when it rained. It didn\u2019t just leak through the porch roof, either. He remembered the buckets and bowls strategically placed throughout the house during storms, and his dad spending two years on the roof re-shingling it when he could scrape enough money together to buy a couple of bundles of shingles. The lawn was patchy and laden with crabgrass, the trees young and struggling, and the yews barely filling out.<\/p>\n

It was clean, though. His mother made sure of that. No matter how dilapidated it looked, it had always been clean and the crabgrass cropped.<\/p>\n

\u201cSebastian! What\u2019re doing? Come in!\u201d<\/p>\n

He raised his hand at his dad, whom he couldn\u2019t see through the trees, and sighed, trudging toward what he suspected would be the last conversation he\u2019d ever have with the man he loved, who loved him, and who\u2019d influenced him so much\u2014in what not<\/em> to do.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat your car?\u201d he asked, seeming to be impressed. \u201cNice. Looks expensive, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

A Corolla. \u201cUh, just a loaner.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cProlly want your truck back, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot anytime soon. Don\u2019t worry about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

His father welcomed him warmly, with bear hugs, excited chatter, and slaps on the back. Sebastian hugged his mother but traded a grim expression with her. This would not be a fun conversation.<\/p>\n

His mother had suggested inviting more family, but Sebastian was uneasy with that, especially if Uncle Yves showed up to support Sebastian. It wouldn\u2019t be a fair fight and it was already lopsided with just him and his mother. Sebastian didn\u2019t want a dozen people down his dad\u2019s throat.<\/p>\n

His mother led them to the table and it was like Sebastian was twelve again. Pot roast with potatoes and carrots, brown gravy, plenty of ketchup, green beans with bacon. His dad was blustering about what was going on at the city parks department and what he\u2019d said to his asshole boss, and got one over on him. He started talking about an investment idea now that their major expenses had been paid for finally\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d be proud of me, Son!\u201d he said excitedly. \u201cPork. That\u2019s where it\u2019s at.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian listened to his plans about buying a couple of pigs and putting them on a vacant lot about three blocks over, raising them for meat. It might\u2019ve been a good idea for a questionably cheap-ish way to feed two people for a couple of years if he\u2019d looked into zoning first. Sebastian didn\u2019t know how it was zoned, either, nor did he care, but he was pretty sure pigs wouldn\u2019t fly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen\u2019d you get in from Europe?\u201d his dad finally asked, somewhere three-quarters of the way through the meal. It was irritating, that Charlie wasn\u2019t much interested in what Sebastian was doing, but it was also the reason Sebastian had managed to make his nightly forays. If Charlie had been the least been interested or paying attention, the house would\u2019ve been razed by now, like half the other houses on the block.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, well, I \u2026 I\u2019ve been in Boston the last three years,\u201d he said as coolly as he could muster. \u201cI guess I thought you knew.\u201d<\/p>\n

His dad was quiet for a moment. \u201cBoston?\u201d he asked, clearly confused. \u201cI thought\u2014 Weren\u2019t you in art school in Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI graduated four years ago, Dad,\u201d Sebastian said a little more testily than he meant. \u201cI sent graduation announcements and invitations.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, oh.\u201d He looked stymied. It wasn\u2019t that his mind was slipping. It was that he deliberately blocked out any milestone successes that he couldn\u2019t claim having had a part in\u2014and his idea of success was an exceedingly low bar, so anything over that seemed like a fairy tale. \u201cWell! We couldn\u2019t have gone to Paris anyway, but congratulations! Been a starving artist in Boston, then?\u201d He laughed with cheer and pride. He thought being a starving<\/em> artist was an achievement.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, um. Not \u2026 precisely. I\u2019ve been going to school, and \u2026 \u201d It was time. \u201cI came home to ask you personally this time if you would please come to my graduation.\u201d<\/p>\n

His father\u2019s laughter had faded into even deeper confusion. \u201cMore school? To study what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBusiness,\u201d Sebastian replied tightly. \u201cHarvard. I just got my MBA.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room went deathly still except for the drone of the window air conditioning unit.<\/p>\n

Finally, his dad spoke. Growled. Low in his throat. A threat. \u201cBusiness?<\/em>\u201d he asked in that tone that had occasionally preceded the hiss of a belt being pulled out of its loops.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. With honors. And I want you to come see me walk.\u201d<\/p>\n

More silence. Then, so suddenly it startled Sebastian, although it shouldn\u2019t have, his father stood with a roar, his fists pounding on the ancient dining room table. \u201cBUSINESS?! Why?! So you can learn how to make buckets of filthy lucre?!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian sat looking at his plate, clenching his fork in his hand so hard it bent. He wasn\u2019t ashamed. He was hurt. And furious.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnswer me!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

This was where the rubber hit the road, he supposed. He dropped his fork and reached around to his back pocket to find his wallet\u2014and his bank book. He calmly put his wallet on the table and opened his bank book, then handed it to his father, who snatched it and started to read.<\/p>\n

Sebastian watched as his ruddy complexion paled and he almost collapsed into his seat once he grasped what he was looking at.<\/p>\n

He stared at the numbers and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth. Opened it again. Still nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow \u2026 ?\u201d he croaked.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat,\u201d Sebastian murmured, \u201cis only the account where I put money I don\u2019t know what I want to do with yet. I have a lot more than that.\u201d<\/p>\n

His dad slowly looked up at him, his face full of a rage Sebastian had never seen and a hatred he had<\/em> seen, but never directed at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet out,\u201d he said low, stabbing Sebastian in the heart. Well, really, what had he expected?<\/p>\n

Sebastian got to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cCharles\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a word, Dianne! Five million dollars!<\/em> And that\u2019s just his savings?!<\/em> Did you know about this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI helped<\/em> him,\u201d Sebastian\u2019s mother said quietly. Well, Sebastian wasn\u2019t going to leave now. As far as he knew, his father had never hit his mother, but the arguments could get nasty and he wasn\u2019t going to let his mother face this one alone. \u201cI taught<\/em> him. I was not<\/em> going to allow my son to grow up in poverty without knowing he had a way out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPoverty?! We aren\u2019t poor! Look at this place!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you mean the place I<\/em> have been paying for? Maintaining? Improving upon for the last thirty years?\u201d she asked sharply. \u201cDid you think your<\/em> salary paid for any<\/em> of this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhu\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian sighed and reverted to his childhood habit\u2014lying on the couch to listen to the latest screaming match about money, his presence forgotten.<\/p>\n

This time, though, was different. Sebastian didn\u2019t know what his mother had up her sleeve, but he knew she was at the end of her tether. He looked around at the place while the preamble shouting commenced. She really had made this place a showpiece and the couch was not cheap. Her taste in art was pedestrian, but it was all fairly well designed.<\/p>\n

The fight went down the same path it always went: familial, philosophical, theological. But then\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to see our books!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

Whatever Sebastian\u2019s mother had been about to say didn\u2019t get said. Instead, she snapped, \u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n

She ducked into the kitchen, but Sebastian just lay there with his eyes closed and his arm over his face listening to his father\u2019s rapid, angry breathing. He prepared himself for another rant, but his mother came back.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d his father snapped. \u201cDoesn\u2019t look like a checkbook to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not. It\u2019s a divorce.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian nearly swallowed his tongue. He shot upright and stared at his parents facing off, a thick manila envelope in his father\u2019s hand and his mother with her arms crossed over her chest.<\/p>\n

His father finally croaked, \u201cI\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

But that was all.<\/p>\n

His mother\u2019s expression was implacable. \u201cI love you, Charlie, but I am done with this life, this neighborhood, this evil philosophy you\u2019re so invested in that you\u2019d disown our son over it. I\u2019m leaving. You have two choices. You may move with me to a neighborhood I like and you can live in relative comfort, or you can stay here and manage your life on your own on your salary.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re choosing Sebastian over me?\u201d he asked desperately.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I\u2019m choosing a house<\/em> over you.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was harsh.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have any money! You\u2019ve never had a job!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd why is that?\u201d she asked mildly.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you needed to stay home and take care of the family, like the Prophet said!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMmm hm. You know what else the Prophet said? For the father to provide for his family. You barely provided enough for basic living expenses, and then you gave a quarter of that away. So I had to figure out a way to keep us out of penury. I<\/em> keep our cars running, I<\/em> keep us in air conditioning, I<\/em> put the roof on this house. Well, your son and I did. Without him, I<\/em> wouldn\u2019t have been able to do anything because you wouldn\u2019t let me<\/em>\u2014\u201d She was screaming now, and Sebastian had never heard this tone or volume. \u201c\u2014but also wouldn\u2019t better yourself!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2014 What do you mean, Sebastian? What did he do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI gave him a little money. I taught him how to use it to make more because I couldn\u2019t associate with the people he could. He brought me seed money,\u201d she hissed. \u201cSeed money I used to invest, the only job I could get because you wouldn\u2019t allow me to work. You\u2019re so horrified by Sebastian\u2019s bank account? I don\u2019t have nearly as much as he does, but I had enough to buy a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood in cash<\/em> and a very nice car to go with it. So, again. You can come with me, or you can let your pride keep my side of the bed warm at night, because I am not staying in this house one more minute.\u201d<\/p>\n

And with that, she grabbed her purse, her church bag, her crochet project bag, and the keys to Sebastian\u2019s truck, and walked out, letting the storm door slam behind her.<\/p>\n

Silence. Again. Before the roar of the pickup from outside pierced the walls.<\/p>\n

Sebastian didn\u2019t know what to do. It was the first time he\u2019d been alone with his father in decades. They\u2019d never done normal father-son things, never thrown baseballs or footballs around, never gone fishing, never gone hunting. Sebastian had<\/em> done those things, but with his grandfather, Uncle Oliver. Uncle Yves had encouraged Sebastian\u2019s money prowess and called upon him shamelessly to keep \u00c9tienne from making contract mistakes. Sebastian did<\/em> have solid males in his life, guiding him, but not his father. In fact, he couldn\u2019t remember what his father and he had been doing the last time they were actually alone together\u2014probably helping move a church member into a new house.<\/p>\n

He looked at the man now, standing in the broad opening between the dining room and living room, staring down at the envelope in his hands, his mouth slack, his eyes wide.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did she mean,\u201d he finally asked low, \u201cabout not being able to associate with the people you could?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe dregs of society,\u201d Sebastian said flatly, immediately. \u201cI made loans and odds.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno. Ten, twelve. Something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?!<\/em>\u201d he roared, turning on Sebastian. \u201cWhen did this happen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt night. After you went to bed. You didn\u2019t pay attention because you thought everything was hunky dory.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet out,\u201d he snarled again. \u201cI didn\u2019t raise you to become one of, of, of those<\/em> evil people. No better than your grandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stood and his heart ached, but it was a familiar ache. \u201cAt least he could feed his family,\u201d Sebastian said quietly before leaving his childhood home, never to return.<\/p>\n

OR SO HE THOUGHT, because six months later, he was asleep in a Spanish hotel after having mediated a fight between his cousin Victoria, her new husband, and her parents that took them from a nightclub, to his hotel room the next morning, to a restaurant, back to his hotel room, to the hotel bar, and back to his hotel room until everybody aired their grievances, made a tentative plan for future interactions, and hugged it out.<\/p>\n

And that was after<\/em> he\u2019d spent a week orchestrating the world\u2019s fastest wedding between the aforementioned cousin and Sebastian\u2019s mentor Emilio, which had included a round trip from Sevilla to Gibraltar, back to Sevilla to attend a bullfight, an hour spent on the tarmac waiting for the new hole in Emilio\u2019s leg to be stitched up, getting pain- and narcotic-laden Emilio dressed in a tux then to the altar, holding him up at<\/em> the altar, getting him back<\/em> on the plane to Sevilla, to his house, then up a long flight of stairs to dump him in his own bed.<\/p>\n

Sebastian was so fucking exhausted, he ignored his ringing phone and went to sleep, too tired to get up and turn it off as he should have before he dropped into bed. It was probably Jack, wanting to know about office buildings in London because he had this bee in his bonnet and wouldn\u2019t leave it alone until it was done.<\/p>\n

Then he couldn\u2019t ignore it anymore.<\/p>\n

He laboriously rolled over, picked up his phone, turned the ringer off, then had to be stupid and open his eyes.<\/p>\n

Aunt Lilly. She never called, and his heart started to race. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d he croaked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour dad\u2019s in the hospital,\u201d she replied tightly. \u201cHeart attack. Happened last week and he\u2019s fine, but things are \u2026 tense. Between him and Dianne.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike, tense how and why is this relevant to a heart attack and why am I only now hearing about this?\u201d<\/p>\n

She paused. \u201cYves didn\u2019t tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s got a lot on his mind right now. Like tense how?\u201d he repeated impatiently.<\/p>\n

\u201cLike he\u2019s starting to realize what he did\u2014or didn\u2019t do\u2014for the family, but he\u2019s blaming her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian laughed harshly. \u201cOf course he is. If nobody saw fit to tell me for a week, then what\u2019s it got to do with me now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think he could use your help.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian was confused. \u201cYou mean my mom?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Your dad. He\u2019s \u2026 I think he needs you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian didn\u2019t know what to do with that. \u201cIn what way?\u201d<\/p>\n

She huffed. \u201cPlease just come home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m in Spa\u2014\u201d Call ended.<\/p>\n

The heart attack wasn\u2019t a surprise. Charlie was in the hospital, yes, but he seemed to be relatively fine and resting. It was nine o\u2019clock in the morning, Emilio was probably dead to the world, Victoria was\u2014wherever, but Lydia had her in hand. He called down to the front desk and requested a charter flight, then dragged himself out of bed and took the elevator down two floors to find Yves and Harriet\u2019s room and pound on the door because right now, Sebastian needed advice in the worst way.<\/p>\n

It took a while before his uncle opened the door in a robe, bleary-eyed and still pissed off. \u201cWhat,\u201d he snarled in French.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy dad?\u201d<\/p>\n

Yves heaved a sigh and rubbed his temples. \u201cOh. That.\u201d He twisted to grab what looked like his room key and wallet, then stepped out into the hallway and trudged to the elevator bank. Sebastian accompanied him without speaking. Once in the lobby, Yves found a relatively secluded alcove and threw himself into a chair, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. Sebastian dropped into the chair next to him, not really knowing what questions to ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cSe\u00f1or Taight?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian took the Bloody Mary the concierge offered (Sebastian had no idea how he knew to fetch him one), noted the travel plans as the man rattled them off, nodded, thanked him, and gave a few final instructions before turning back to his uncle, who surprised him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother asked me to spend the night with him after he was discharged from ICU to the cardiac unit,\u201d Yves began hoarsely. \u201cI didn\u2019t want to be there and he didn\u2019t want me there, but he was a captive audience. I laid out some hard truths, albeit gently, that in his quest for virtue, he\u2019d failed as a provider, husband, and father. He\u2019s a good man. Solid, hard worker, honest, eager to provide, generous and moral, but unable to see what needs to be done to keep his house in order.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian listened to this, stunned that, first, Yves would agree to spend time with Sebastian\u2019s dad and second, be the one to knock sense into his head. For the first time, Sebastian was willing to cut his dad some slack. <\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s likely the ADD,\u201d Sebastian admitted reluctantly. \u201cIt\u2019s \u2026 hard. To juggle your thoughts when interesting things are distracting you, but you don\u2019t know how to grasp them to make them reality or make them go away so you can deal with your current reality.\u201d<\/p>\n

Yves was silent for a moment. \u201cHow do you do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what I want. I can ignore shiny things if they may get in the way of my goal. If they won\u2019t go away, I write them down. I\u2019ve never seen my dad write anything down, and I can\u2019t get out of bed in the morning without having put it on a list somewhere so I can cross it off. As far as I know, my dad has never known what he wanted, or he never wanted anything at all beyond being seen as generous and virtuous. No forethought, no curiosity, no interest in anything but art, and he wouldn\u2019t do that<\/em> because then he might be gay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Yves shook his head wearily. \u201cAnd here I am, after having spent twenty-four hours listening to how I<\/em> also failed as a father.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have seven kids,\u201d Sebastian said with faint amusement. \u201cSomebody\u2019s gonna get left behind, and she would have preferred to be.\u201d Yves snorted. \u201cMy flight\u2019s in two hours. Wanna ride?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbsolutely not. If I leave now, especially in favor of the brother-in-law I don\u2019t even like, Victoria will never speak to me again.\u201d That was true. \u201cI need to have a few conversations with this tomcat she married\u2014\u201d Sebastian growled. \u201cHrmph. I\u2019ve had all I can take of your dad. I\u2019ve done my part for the Dunham family and I need to prove to the daughter I have neglected most of her life that I\u2019m prioritizing her. And now I\u2019m going back to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n

SEBASTIAN WASN\u2019T surprised to see Giselle in the hospital room with his father. They weren\u2019t conversing, but that was no surprise. Charlie had never known what to make of Giselle, so he\u2019d largely ignored her except for the well-timed protective instinct here and there. Sebastian knew why Giselle was here: Duty. She was holding Sebastian\u2019s place until he could arrive, as per usual, so he nodded his thanks at her and she left with a soft \u201cBye, Uncle Charlie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBye, Giselle. Thanks for coming.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh huh.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian took a deep breath and sat. He didn\u2019t know what to say. He wasn\u2019t ambivalent to the possibility his father could die, but he\u2019d been disowned, so he\u2019d begun his grieving the day he received his diploma with a good third of his family in the audience screaming his name\u2014except for his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know who you are,\u201d his father said abruptly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYup.\u201d<\/p>\n

More silence.<\/p>\n

Then Sebastian said, \u201cWhat do you want, Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean, what do I want?\u201d he asked testily. \u201cFrom you? You know what I want from you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, not me, and you\u2019re never going to get that. What did you want to be when you grew up? Did you have any goals, any dreams, feel any \u2026 purpose?\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t answer for so long Sebastian thought he was simply refusing to answer.<\/p>\n

Then he took a deep breath. \u201cWe were too poor for dreams,\u201d he finally muttered. \u201cWhen you barely have food, barely a roof, you can\u2019t afford dreams. It doesn\u2019t even occur to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut \u2026 you were in Scouts. You went on a mission. You graduated from college.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was in Scouts because it was run by the neighborhood messiah who grabbed me before I went bad. Then we joined the church and I went on a mission because it was expected and the church paid for it. I went to college because I didn\u2019t want to go to \u2019nam and besides which, your grandfather told me not to bother because I wasn\u2019t cut out for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian pursed his lips. He probably hadn\u2019t been, but he\u2019d ground through it and gotten it done in four years, which was probably why Grandpa Dunham had said it. \u201cWhat about art?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s for queers,\u201d he sneered for the hundredth time.<\/p>\n

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. Charlie wanted to hold a pencil so badly it hurt, but he was so afraid of being seen as gay he barely doodled.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou would\u2019ve said something if you thought I was gay, and you never did. Soooo, why were you cool with my going to art school?\u201d<\/p>\n

His mouth tightened and he looked away, which meant Sebastian wasn\u2019t going to get an answer to the question.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, then. How\u2019s single life treating you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do. She\u2019s having the time of her life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen what does she need me for?\u201d he snarled. \u201cShe seems to have figured everything out without me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian shrugged. \u201cWell, when you have a kid with a guy who can\u2019t support you, but won\u2019t let you get a job \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I know,\u201d he snapped. \u201cI\u2019m useless.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not useless,\u201d Sebastian said matter-of-factly. \u201cYou\u2019re afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf what.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuccess. Or even having more than you think you need. But you also didn\u2019t know how much you needed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo to you, Mr. Bigshot MBA, I\u2019m a failure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a failure. A waste. A waste of talent, of potential. I\u2019ve never met anyone with more natural talent than you, from what little I saw. You have a degree that you did nothing with after all that work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t make money with art or degrees in Russian history.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t make any digging ditches, either.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want from me?\u201d the old man demanded. \u201cYou just gonna take the opportunity to tell me everything I failed at? I\u2019ve been hearing it for the last six months.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI want,\u201d Sebastian said, still calmly, \u201cfor you to quit your job, move in with Mom, relax, and start drawing. Maybe take classes.\u201d<\/p>\n

His throat bobbed. \u201cThat\u2019s for queers,\u201d he repeated, but now with no conviction whatsoever.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnswer the question. You know I\u2019m not gay, but you had no problem with me going to art school. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make me think about it,\u201d he grumbled. \u201cIt just\u2014 It\u2019s\u2014 It\u2019s more useless than Russian history!\u201d he blurted.<\/p>\n

Sebastian\u2019s head exploded in rage, but he held himself together\u2014barely. \u201cSo, you would\u2019ve been okay with your son doing worse in life than you just because you couldn\u2019t stand him doing better than you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not what I meant,\u201d he grumbled.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, it is. You just never actually thought about what it really<\/em> means.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, because you\u2019re smarter than me, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope. I just know my worth and I\u2019m not going to squelch my talent and skill in favor of some vague ideal I think I\u2019m supposed to chase.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus said\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t talk to me about Jesus!\u201d Sebastian barked. \u201cAlmost nothing<\/em> about how you\u2019ve lived your life is what Christ taught! Your generosity was born of envy and pride. You missed the whole point of the parable of the talents and<\/em> the parable of the ten virgins, come to think of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou say that so often,\u201d Sebastian said softly as he got to his feet. \u201cIt\u2019s almost like you don\u2019t think I\u2019m your son.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou aren\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian froze, then looked at his father, his brow wrinkled. \u201cAre you being metaphorical or do you think I\u2019m some other man\u2019s son?\u201d<\/p>\n

His father looked suddenly wary. \u201cI \u2026 I\u2019ve \u2026 always wondered \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian\u2019s soul tumbled over in anger and confusion. \u201cDo you really<\/em> think that little of Mom?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he muttered, looking down and picking at his blanket. \u201cShe could have done so much better than me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then Sebastian understood. It wasn\u2019t about Dianne or her fidelity at all. It was about Charlie. He felt he deserved to be cuckolded and if he had been, then he could legitimately blame someone other than himself for his failures.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Dad,\u201d Sebastian said as he left the room, \u201cmaybe you should stop thinking everything is about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

TWO MONTHS LATER, Sebastian stood next to his mother across the street from her very nice house in the Northland watching movers come and go from the front door carrying haphazardly packed boxes and bags into it.<\/p>\n

To Sebastian, Dianne had never spoken of her marriage. She talked to Sebastian about his father\u2019s philosophies and why they were wrong. She talked about money so she could teach Sebastian what he needed to know to get out of the neighborhood. She talked about the family\u2019s finances so Sebastian could help. She didn\u2019t mind fighting with his dad in front of Sebastian. But the topic of her marriage was off limits to him. He knew. He\u2019d broached it once and damn near got his ears boxed.<\/p>\n

And there was his father, hobbling around with a cane, being jovial with the movers, Knox hovering to make sure he didn\u2019t fall, saying, \u201cBe careful with that now!\u201d about a bag of clothes, then laughing at his own joke. Sebastian didn\u2019t know if he was performing, if he was happy, or if he was nervous or frightened and trying to hide it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you say to him?\u201d she asked low, vaguely gesturing at Charlie. \u201cHe swerved.\u201d<\/p>\n

She hadn\u2019t thought she was going to win that game of chicken, but she\u2019d done it anyway. Sebastian could respect that, even if it had happened fifteen years too late.<\/p>\n

Apparently, Charlie hadn\u2019t accepted any more visitors after Sebastian left his hospital room, so Sebastian was the last family member, church member, friend, or coworker to talk to him while he was in the hospital and rehab. He hadn\u2019t even wanted to talk to Dianne. He\u2019d put Knox down as his emergency contact, durable power of attorney, executor (of what estate, Sebastian didn\u2019t know), and caretaker.<\/p>\n

So, Knox had been the one to spring him from cardiac rehab, sign all the discharge papers, get all the post-discharge instructions, gather all his possessions, and buckle him into his car. Knox had pointed the car east, and was promptly told to turn around and head north.<\/p>\n

\u201cI asked a lot of questions,\u201d Sebastian said after some thought. \u201cDon\u2019t have any idea which one got him thinking.\u201d He let that settle until he was sure she wasn\u2019t going to grill him. \u201cMom,\u201d he started hesitantly, \u201cdo you still love him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes,\u201d she replied with alacrity, not seeming the least bit surprised by the question. \u201cI just couldn\u2019t live that way anymore, not when I have a fortune in the bank and the only thing I could see when I turned onto our street was the glories of gentrification.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian chuckled. \u201cYou fixed up our house really nicely. You could try.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlready bought three lots,\u201d she confessed, then sighed. \u201cI did what I could with what I had at the time.\u201d She leaned into him and gave him a side hug. \u201cThank you, Son. I couldn\u2019t have gotten out without you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He hugged her back. \u201cYes, you would\u2019ve, but it would\u2019ve involved an ultimatum and a paycheck until Charles Schwab decided to drain the little people\u2019s pockets with trading fees.\u201d<\/p>\n

She chuckled as she pulled away.<\/p>\n

Charlie tripped over the curb, but Knox caught and steadied him, then helped him up onto the sidewalk. \u201cI don\u2019t \u2026 \u201d his mother began, \u201c \u2026 I don\u2019t understand why he loves Knox so much. Knox is the epitome of everything he hates about rich people. He grew up in the most prestigious mansion on Ward Parkway and his name screams \u2018generational wealth.\u2019 Who names their kid Knox? Fort<\/em> Knox, no less. My pretentious adulterous sister, that\u2019s who.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian shrugged. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t care about money. He doesn\u2019t think it\u2019s important.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s because he\u2019s always had it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Again Sebastian shrugged. \u201cWhat does he think about the \u2026 you know \u2026 incident<\/em>? It was like it never happened. Surely, cold-blooded murder would offend him, but he treats Knox like he always has.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s absolutely certain Knox would never do such a thing, and to be fair, on the surface, it seems so. But he was concerned about how Knox retreated from the family once he caught that case, and he did attempt to talk to him, to comfort him. Knox refused to listen to it. The rest of us \u2026 \u201d She sighed heavily. \u201cKnox marches to the beat of his own drummer, and that drummer is justice. It was not<\/em> out of character. Further,\u201d Dianne said pointedly, \u201cwhat is also<\/em> in character is that he couldn\u2019t have pulled that off alone without getting himself arrested.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll for one and one for all,\u201d Sebastian deadpanned.<\/p>\n

\u201cMmm hm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, is Dad actually<\/em> as happy as he\u2019s acting right now or is he putting on a show?\u201d<\/p>\n

She shrugged. \u201cGuess we\u2019ll find out by the end of dinner tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

SEBASTIAN SMOOTHED the satin ribbon over his father\u2019s left shoulder where it held the pleated white robe together. Yves and \u00c9tienne worked quietly with Sebastian to maneuver Charlie Taight\u2019s body this way and that so that they could dress him in the robes of the holy priesthood.<\/p>\n

Sebastian wasn\u2019t supposed to be doing this, as he\u2019d long since given up his membership in the church and only members in good standing were allowed to dress the dead in their ceremonial clothing. But Sebastian had been a bit resentful that he was left out, that it fell to his uncle and cousin to perform the last rite of being tended by their loved one. Yves had noticed, had drawn him into the empty chapel where his father\u2019s body lay on a table, curved blocks under his head, neck, arms, hips, and feet.<\/p>\n

The three of them worked quietly, with Yves quietly directing both him and \u00c9tienne, as neither of them had done this before.<\/p>\n

It was the last thing Sebastian could do for his father, one he wouldn\u2019t get yelled at for doing, but only because his father was dead. He would never<\/em> have allowed Sebastian in the room to dress an endowed Latter-day Saint.<\/p>\n

Sebastian almost smiled, a wistful, bittersweet one, at the thought of Charlie going to town on Sebastian for performing a ritual meant to honor a loved one\u2014missing the point, as usual.<\/p>\n

The robe was set and smoothed. The sash was in place. The bright green fig-leaf apron was straight and at a level that the closed half of the casket lid would hide it. Only the hat was missing, and Yves would put that on right before the casket was closed, never to be opened again.<\/p>\n

They were finished.<\/p>\n

Yves and \u00c9tienne quietly walked out, leaving Sebastian alone with his father for the first time since he\u2019d come home from Spain to see him in the hospital three years ago.<\/p>\n

It was enough, he thought as he stood there looking into a face that, in peace, looked a lot like his own, that the man\u2019s last three years had been happy ones. Sebastian had wanted to lay it all out, the finances, the flow charts, the revenue streams, the expenses, all the pies and all the fingers in them, but his mother had put her foot down. Charlie had lived this long in financial ignorance. He didn\u2019t need to know now. It would only hurt, only remind him of his misguided virtue and the harm it had done.<\/p>\n

So he said nothing.<\/p>\n

Once his father moved in with his mother, Sebastian was invited to dinner one month. Then twice the next month. And so on while slowly, Sebastian started hinting at Charlie to draw, showing him his latest doodles as if he were a child asking for approval, which he was shocked to learn he didn\u2019t need. No, Sebastian was a master and didn\u2019t need his daddy\u2019s approval. His purpose was to tempt and to teach, to elicit the gifted artist Sebastian was pretty sure comprised his soul.<\/p>\n

He put a pencil and a piece of paper on the table, then drew something relatively simple on his own pad for his father to copy. Child\u2019s play. Sebastian drew something a little more complicated, but he did it fast, to see what his father could pick up. Again, Charlie duplicated it. Not as quickly, but perfectly.<\/p>\n

His mother had told him that after a couple of Sunday afternoon and evening drawing sessions, after Sebastian had gone home, Charlie grew quiet, mopey. Lost. Looking longingly at the sketch pad and pencils Sebastian had left, as if he wanted<\/em> to draw, but didn\u2019t have permission if Sebastian weren\u2019t there.<\/p>\n

Sebastian left the small chapel when the morticians wheeled the empty casket in, then trudged down the hall to the chapel intended for his father\u2019s viewing. There were few people here, as it was early yet. The viewing wouldn\u2019t begin for another thirty minutes. The funeral would be tomorrow at church, then burial at Mt. Washington in Independence, relatively close to where Sebastian had grown up. Someone was timidly playing hymns on an organ, but it didn\u2019t feel right. His dad wasn\u2019t a hymn kind of guy, and this certainly<\/em> wasn\u2019t a hymn kind of viewing.<\/p>\n

He strolled around with his hands behind his back, looking at the memorial display, getting out of the way when the casket was wheeled to the front and re-opened. The flowers were placed. The organ continued to bleed hymns, which really started to annoy him.<\/p>\n

His mother gestured at him to join her at the front by the casket.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like this music,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t, either, but Sister Nebbish offered to play and I didn\u2019t give her any direction.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian stared at her, trying not to laugh. \u201cHer name is Nebbish?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked at him as if he were nuts. \u201cYeah, so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Yiddish for \u2018timid.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

She caught her laugh in her hand just in time.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood thing I came prepared. Get her off that organ.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian went to find a funeral director and made his request. By the time he returned to the front of the chapel, the organ was silent, and Grof\u00e9\u2019s Grand Canyon Suite<\/em> began to wisp its way through the chapel. His mother nodded approvingly.<\/p>\n

He almost smiled at the first gasp, but it was far from the last. Soon enough the first mourner reached them and began the endless litany of \u201cOh, Dianne! I am so sorry.\u201d \u201cThank you.\u201d \u201cSebastian Taight. Charlie\u2019s son.\u201d \u201cOh, I \u2026 don\u2019t believe I\u2019ve heard of you.\u201d \u201cLikely not.\u201d \u201cWell, nice to meet you, and I\u2019m so sorry it had to be such an occasion.\u201d \u201cLikewise.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian would never remember any of these people, much less what they said or how they knew his father.<\/p>\n

But they did not leave. No.<\/p>\n

This chapel had been turned into an art gallery, and once the niceties were done, visitors were treating it like one, going from painting to painting, oohing and aaahing.<\/p>\n

The turning point in their relationship began the evening Charlie had said something appreciative about Hemingway\u2019s \u201cOld Man and the Sea.\u201d He liked the sparse prose and did you know he worked at the <\/em>Star?<\/em><\/p>\n

Sebastian was about to nod wearily, but then it hit him. Yeah, but did you know he spent a lot of time in Spain?<\/em><\/p>\n

No<\/em>. Normally, Charlie would have been dismissive of that, but he loved Kansas City, everything about it, and he adored the Country Club Plaza, which absolutely reeked of Spain.<\/p>\n

Yup. He spent a lot of time at bullfights, with Picasso.<\/em><\/p>\n

His father said nothing, which meant he was intrigued, but didn\u2019t know what questions to ask to keep Sebastian talking.<\/p>\n

So Sebastian talked.<\/p>\n

He spoke of Spain, bullfighting, Hemingway, Picasso, their adventures, their work, their conquests with women\u2014decadent, wicked<\/em> things Charlie had not wanted to hear while craving desperately to hear them. He told the stories casually, as if he were filling a silence, not as a pointed lecture on an aspect of art that Charlie could grasp.<\/p>\n

The lesson had sunk in. Picasso and Hemingway were artists, but they were manly<\/em> men, and that was what Charlie admired, respected. Wanted to be. But Picasso didn\u2019t spur him the way Sebastian had hoped.<\/p>\n

It was when Sebastian took him to the Truman Library to see Thomas Hart Benton\u2019s mural that something just \u2026 clicked. It, too, was strong, masculine<\/em>, embodying the American Everyman, the downtrodden, the forgotten, the workers. It was Midwestern, rural, knowing, empathetic, angry.<\/p>\n

Sebastian watched his father\u2019s eyes light up at the sight, then at the Capitol Building at more of Benton\u2019s work. He\u2019d chartered a jet\u2014to make a point\u2014and taken him to San Francisco to see a John Steuart Curry exhibit; the Figge in Davenport, Iowa for Grant Wood; to MOMA in New York for Edward Hopper.<\/p>\n

It had taken him a while, but Sebastian had finally coaxed his father to a performance of Copland\u2019s Fanfare for the Common Man<\/em>, Gershwin\u2019s Rhapsody in Blue<\/em>, and Grof\u00e9\u2019s Grand Canyon Suite<\/em>. He\u2019d sat stiffly throughout, didn\u2019t speak the entire way home, but Sebastian didn\u2019t miss the quaking shoulders, the tears. He\u2019d only seen his father cry once\u2014when Charlie\u2019s father died. This was the second time.<\/p>\n

Charlie\u2014with minimal instruction from Sebastian\u2014started painting and didn\u2019t stop until the day he died.<\/p>\n

The work around this room was all Charlie\u2019s, some mix of regionalism, impressionism, and pre-Raphaelite, imbued with the sorrow of a lifetime of hard work, heartache, and pain. Almost no training, little exposure to other people\u2019s work, and absolutely no knowledge of art history.<\/p>\n

The work was stunning.<\/p>\n

He would\u2019ve surpassed Sebastian\u2019s mastery in a couple more years, and Sebastian ached that he\u2019d never see what could have been. Sebastian had arranged for a long-term exhibition at the Nelson in a year, intending to surprise Charlie with it, but now \u2026<\/p>\n

He\u2019d found his joy too late.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood God, the man was a genius!\u201d came a boisterous voice from the back of the chapel. Sebastian started to laugh at the gasps and disapproving glares, but Jack didn\u2019t notice. Lydia looked around with wide eyes, which pleased Sebastian. It was very<\/em> hard to impress Lydia. Sebastian looked at his mother, who was dabbing at tears, but she was smiling. Victoria swanned in with Emilio. Mitch strolled through the doorway and took his time, which was fine. This was the way Sebastian and his mother had set it up.<\/p>\n

Study the soul, not the body.<\/p>\n

One by one, Sebastian\u2019s friends from all over the world wandered in, wandered around, wandered to him, clapped him on the back, hugged him, said hi to his mom and sorry for your loss<\/em>, then perused the exhibit.<\/p>\n

Then it was midnight\u2014long past when they were supposed to have wrapped it up\u2014and the funeral director was quietly guiding people who did not<\/em> want to leave to the door, explaining that the work would be exhibited at the gallery in the future, and please do take the opportunity then.<\/p>\n

Viewing business and goodbyes concluded, and Sebastian went home to his Black Box, which his father really hadn\u2019t liked, but understood<\/em>. Finally.<\/p>\n

Sebastian trudged down the stairs from the garage, opened the stairwell door to the dimly lit maple-clad expanse of hallway, dining room, living room, and kitchen, sat down on the raised dining room platform, buried his face in his hands, and began to sob.<\/p>\n

★<\/p>\n

20260226<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

APRIL 1996 Sebastian: 30 SEBASTIAN KNEW better than to drive his Ferrari, but his dad had his truck, so he rented a newish Toyota Corolla and headed home. Home. The house where he grew up, where his keepsakes were tidily and safely packed away, and where he\u2019d learned how to become a millionaire. Objectively, he […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":39,"menu_order":4117,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-13099","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/13099"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13099"}],"version-history":[{"count":46,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/13099\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":24183,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/13099\/revisions\/24183"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/39"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13099"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}