CHAPTER EIGHT

trigger warning:
talk about suicide, eating disorders, mental health, institutionalisation

————

december 26, 1970

     HUNHAM REFUSES TO ELABORATE on his lie for a good ten minutes after the interaction, despite Esther and Angus' constant nagging. He walks the pair all the way to a liquor store and fails to convince the two of them to wait outside, so they follow him inside continuing to ask questions.

     "I thought Barton men don't lie. Don't get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth," Angus says.

Hunham turns on the boy. "What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You are not to judge me." He pokes his finger in Angus' chest to make his point.

Angus screws up his face, confused and annoyed. "It wasn't a private conversation. The wife and Meredith and I were there." Hunham groans and tries to walk away. The teenagers follow. "And I helped you," he argues. Hunham laughs at that. "Why did he ask if you landed on your feet?"

"What is this, Nuremberg?" Hunham asks.

"Hey, answer the question, Hunham," Esther says, going around the centre shelving so the teenagers can box the teacher in on both sides.

     Angus crosses his arms over his chest. "You're the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on and on about the honour code."

     Hunham finally comes to a stop and sighs, loudly. "There was an incident when I was at Harvard with my roommate." He plops his hat on his head, trying to leave it there. Esther rotates her hand in a circle, telling him to keep talking. "He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarising." He steps away, finally laying eyes on something in the store he may want to buy.

     "Well, did you?" Angus asks.

     The man spins on his heel. "No, he stole from me," he declares. "But that blueblooded prick's family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, for Christ's sake. So he accused me in order to sanitise his treachery and, uh, they threw me out."

     Esther's eyes go as wide as dinner plates. Angus gapes at the admission. "Wait, so you got kicked out of Harvard for cheating?" he presses.

     "No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him," Hunham clarifies, walking away again.

     The teenagers exchange a glance — a mixture of shock and pride. "You hit him? What, like punched him out?" Angus asks.

     "No, I hit him with a car," Hunham says. He finally figures out where his drink of choice is and approaches the man at the register.

     Esther has to do everything in her power to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. "Oh, now we're talking!"

     "You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?" Angus echoes.

     Hunham holds up a hand. "By accident," he clarifies, then turns his attention to the cashier. "Pint of Jim Beam, please," he orders, fishing through his coat for his wallet. "But he broke three ribs, which was technically his fault because he shouldn't have been in the road."

     The cashier requests two dollars from the teacher, seemingly unfazed by the conversation taking place in front of him. After all, he's probably seen a whole lot crazier working in a place like this.

     "Also," Hunham adds, pulling a note out of his wallet and tossing it onto the counter, "he shat himself. Which was the greater indignity."

     The cash register's bell dings and the cashier passes Hunham his drink wrapped in a brown paper bag. "Here you go, killer," he says, and Hunham freezes as if he's only just realised that they aren't alone.

     He herds the giggling teenagers out onto the street, looking about ready to sink into the Earth's crust and stay there. "So Mister Hunham never even graduated college?" Angus asks. Hunham hums. "Holy shit. You didn't finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?"

     "Well, Doctor Greene knew. Only Doctor Greene," Hunham responds, taking a swig of his drink — not even removing it from the bag. "He always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty, zero respect and even less pay. So nobody batted an eye, and I've been at the school ever since."

     They turn the corner, heading back toward their hotel. "Are you ashamed at how things turned out?" Angus questions.

     Hunham shakes his head. "Not at all. No, I'm proud of my work. I love history. I love Barton. Barton is my life. I don't know what I would do without Barton," he says, rambling a little. They pass by a nail salon, obviously closed but the lights are still on. Esther slows her pace to look inside. "It's ten o'clock, you're not getting your nails painted, Miss Yasui."

     Esther's shoulders slump. "Sorry."

     "Why'd you lie to that guy?" Angus presses, changing the subject back.

     "Because I knew he'd relish the fact that I'm a washout and never left my own high school, and he'd probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know, so I figured he's not entitled to my story. I am."

     "Yeah," Angus says, nodding. "Yeah, fuck that guy."

     Hunham stops. "Yeah, exactly. Fuck that guy!" he repeats enthusiastically. "Statistics," he scoffs, mocking the other man. "But, now, you'll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know. I mean no one."

     "Entre nous, sir," Angus replies. Esther repeats the Latin, despite having no clue what it means.

     They start walking again — it's still a few blocks from here to the hotel. "Ancient cameras," Hunham mutters. "Where the hell did you come up with that?"

     Angus and Esther burst out laughing. "Just trying to keep you on your toes, sir."

————

december 27, 1970

     Esther manages a sleep-in that morning, staying fast asleep until Hunham's voice permeates her sweet dreams of watching her competition falling over on the ice. She cracks her eyes open, jerking awake when she happens to make immediate eye contact with Angus — also just waking up — in the bed next to hers.

     "I ordered breakfast," Hunham says, lifting up a silver cloche to reveal a simple meal consisting of toast and eggs.

     Angus lifts his head to peek at the spread. "Great," he says, plopping his head back down onto the pillow with a sigh. He rolls over and sits up out of bed on the other side. Esther reaches up under the blankets to adjust her tank top before she pulls the covers down — just in case either of the girls had decided to leave their assigned seat during the night.

     For the record: they didn't.

     Angus grabs his toiletry bag as he stands and heads to the bathroom. As he walks, something falls out and hits the carpeted floor.

     "Oh, you dropped something," Hunham says. He leans down to pick up the item and takes a look at it as he does so.

     After flicking the bathroom light on, Angus turns around to look. His eyes get wide when he sees the orange bottle in Hunham's hands. "Uh, those are my vitamins," he says.

     Hunham looks closer. "Librium."

     Angus reaches out and snatches it back. "Yeah, it's just, uh, something I'm supposed to take for low energy."

     He goes to shut the door but stops as Hunham replies, "You mean depression?"

     Deflecting, Angus peers around the doorframe to where the breakfast spread is sitting. "Is that rye toast?" he asks. "How'd you know I like rye toast?" He leaves the bathroom, picks up a piece, and takes a bite as he returns, shutting the door after him.

     Esther awkwardly glances around the room, not knowing what to do, and lets herself fall back onto the bed while she waits for the bathroom.

     After the teenagers are changed and ready for the day, Hunham takes them to a bowling alley. After playing a round, in which Hunham bowls gutter ball after gutter ball until Angus finally teaches him the correct form, the teacher leaves the teenagers at their lane as he goes for a drink.

     "Oh, I nearly forgot," Angus says, shuffling across the bench so he's closer to Esther. He pulls a small rectangular gift, wrapped in thin tissue, out of his satchel and hands it to her. "Merry birthday, or happy Christmas, or... you know."

     Esther's brow creases as she laughs, unwrapping the mystery present. She looks at it, then Angus, then back at it. "When did you—"

     "—When Hunham was distracting us by talking about his sex life," Angus interrupts.

     In Esther's hand lies the same slightly weathered copy of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? that she'd been looking at at the bookstore. "Unless you put it back because you didn't want it," Angus backpedals.

     Esther shakes her head. "Thank you," she says. She tucks the book into her tote.

     After Hunham finishes his drink and successfully pisses off a couple of guys at the bar, he returns to the teenagers. "Alright, up we get," he says, shooing them out of the bowling alley and back onto the street.

     "Where are we going, now?" Esther asks.

     "There's a screening of Little Big Man down at the Orpheum," Hunham replies.

     The teenagers nod along but Esther leans over and nudges Angus' arm as they walk. "Do you know that movie?" she asks. He shakes his head. "Maybe we're out of the loop."

     "Or, maybe Hunham likes underground stuff."

     Esther shrugs. "Well, he does teach ancient history."

     So, they head to the cinema, buy their tickets, and settle in for the epic. Esther has no idea how long she's been sitting there when Angus excuses himself to go to the bathroom. It's probably only a minute later when Hunham realises that he just let Angus 'flight risk' Tully disappear on his own.

     He hurries out of the cinema and out onto the street, shrugging his jacket on as he goes. Esther, hot on his heels, overtakes him on the staircase down. They both make it down just in time to watch Angus climb into the backseat of a taxi.

     "Hey!" Hunham cries out, running as fast as he can toward the taxi before it has a chance to pull away. "Hey!"

Esther makes it to the other side of the road and sticks her body in the way of the car door before Angus has a chance to shut it, giving Hunham enough time to catch up. "Traitor," Angus snarls.

"No. Out," Hunham says, grabbing at the shoulders of Angus's coat. "Get out."

Angus pulls away, shuffling further into the cab. "I just need to do something. I was going to come back. Or meet you at the hotel. It won't take long. It's nothing bad," he explains, his pitch rising.

"Just get out, you conniving little shit," Hunham says, going in for another attempt at forcefully removing him from the car. He sighs and slaps his hand onto the top of the door. "Were you planning this the whole time? Just counting the minutes until I turned my back?" he asks.

Angus shakes his head. "I wasn't running away. There's just something I need to do before we go back to school," he explains. "Please? You could come with me. Just come with me, okay?"

     "Come with you where?" Hunham asks.

     Angus lets out a shuddering breath. "To see my dad."

     Esther feels for him. She'd kill to be in Michigan, visiting her Dad's grave right now, just to let him know he's not alone even six feet under, and she still loves him despite it all.

     Hunham's expression softens. "Your dad?" he repeats. He sighs, glancing into the distance. "That's what this is about? Why didn't you just ask me? Because, of course, we can visit a cemetery." Angus nods and slides across the backseat so that Esther can sit down. Hunham takes the passenger seat and once the three of them are buckled in, the taxi driver pulls off onto the road.

     The girl presses her head to the icy cold window, watching the city pass by as the driver weaves through the streets. He passes one cemetery, then another, and Esther thinks that Angus' dad must be buried pretty far on the outskirts of the city — until the driver pulls onto a long driveway and she gets a clear glimpse of a Sanatorium sign on the side of the road.

     And her heart pounds against her chest when she realises that she and Angus never had the dead dad thing in common.

     The cab comes to a stop at the front doors of a massive red-brick building. Angus climbs out first, followed by Hunham, and Esther shuffles after them — delaying crossing the threshold as long as possible. She's met with an aggressively bright beige foyer, and she hangs back by the door as Angus and Hunham head to the visitation window.

     They check in with the receptionist, who sends for a man in white scrubs to take them upstairs, and again, Esther drags her feet the whole way. "Right in here," the man says, directing Angus into the visitor's room.

     Hunham and Esther stay in the hall. She stays there for a minute, staring at the wall, before she decides that she just can't take it. She can feel her heart dropping into her stomach and her mouth drying up. "I just need to get some air," she says, pushing her way past Hunham. She descends the steps, crosses the foyer, and steps out into icy air, wrapping her arms around her body.

She blinks against the breeze. Yasuis do not cry, goddammit.

     Yet, she feels a tear fall down her cheek, and within seconds, she's leaning against the wall, hands pressed to her eyes, shoulders shaking.

     "What's going on?"

     Esther snaps to attention, wiping her eyes with the backs of her wrists, hoping to God she's cleaned herself up enough to face Hunham. "Huh?" she mumbles. "Nothing."

     Hunham squints in disbelief. "Esther, you're crying outside in the snow," he says.

     "No, I'm not," Esther replies. Hunham gives her a look — one that says that he absolutely does not buy her bullshit. She sighs. "He said his father was dead."

     Hunham nods. "I know. I was there."

     Esther gestures at the facility. "He's not dead." Hunham nods again. She exhales and shuts her eyes. "My Dad is dead."

     He seems to get it now. That that feeling of understanding what Angus is going through, and having someone actually understand what she's going through, had disappeared. "I see," he says. He hesitates before asking his next question. "How— how did he pass away?"

     Everybody always asks that question. They loved to theorise too — cancer? Car accident? Mugging gone bad? "He shot himself in the head. Didn't leave a note," she says, keeping her head down so she doesn't have to see the same, pitying look on Hunham's face that everyone else gives her. "I found the body."

Hunham shakes his head at the ground. "Esther, I am so, very sorry."

She shrugs. "Yeah. Ever since, I've just been like— like this. I can barely sleep without nightmares, I act out at home, I already didn't eat right and now it's, like, a million times worse," she says. She bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying again.

"I did mean to bring up the, uh, lack of eating," Hunham says.

Esther rolls her eyes and laughs a little sardonic laugh. "Everybody does, you're not special." She shakes her head. "But, hey, it doesn't matter how perfect I am on the ice if my coach thinks I'm not skinny enough to look good in spandex." She sighs and tucks her hair behind her ear, looking up to meet Hunham's eye for the first time. "I know it's a problem. Doesn't change the fact that I have a problem."

     "There are people in your life willing to help you, you know?"

     "Who? Woodrup?" she responds.

     Hunham breathes out, releasing a cloud of fog from between his lips. "Like your friends. And Tully seems to be quite fond of you. And, hell, I'm still in charge of you and I don't want to see you wither away and die."

     She appreciates the sentiment, but still. "I'll never see you or Angus again after next week."

     Hunham sighs, partly irritated at her defiance, but he wants to get through to her. Genuinely wants to. "What I'm trying to say is: you are young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You have time to get through this. And the few assholes who don't care about you are nothing compared to all the people out there who want to see you succeed."

     Esther doesn't have a chance to respond before Angus bursts out through the doors — a frown etched onto his face. He looks to be holding back tears. "Let's go," he demands.

Hunham hesitates, watching Angus storm off down the road. He looks back at Esther, who shrugs her shoulders and follows the boy. She wants to get out of here too. Hunham flexes his hands and heads back inside to ask the lady at reception to call a taxi for them.

     It takes ten minutes for a taxi to arrive, and by that point, the sun has decided that it's time to set. Hunham asks the driver to take them to a swanky restaurant where he'd organised a reservation for the group in advance.

     None of the trio is in a good way when they arrive, filtering in with downcast spirits and vacant eyes. The hostess seats them awkwardly and flits away the second she gets a chance. The same thing occurs when a member of the waitstaff arrives to take their orders. Neither Esther nor Angus are in the mood to order for themselves, so Hunham picks for both of them.

     The amount of food that is plopped down in front of Esther nearly makes her flip out. "Just eat what you can," Hunham says, his voice low enough that she can convince herself that Angus can't have heard. "Please?"

     So, she eats what she can manage — nearly her whole chicken schnitzel and half of her salad. Hunham makes a point of not acknowledging how much she ate, allowing the girl to breathe a sigh of relief.

     After the group has finished their meals, Angus just stares at his water glass for a good long while before finally speaking. "He used to be fine," he says. "He was better than fine. He was great. He was my Dad." His voice cracks and Esther turns her head to the floor to hide her expression with her curtain of hair. "Then about four years ago, he started acting strange. Erratic, forgetful, saying all this weird shit. My mom took him to a bunch of doctors, and they put him on medication. But that just made it worse. He got more confused. Then he got angry. And then he got... physical." He shakes his head, letting out a shaky breath. "That was it. That was the last straw. They put him away. And she divorced him... without him even realizing it. That's why she wants a whole new life. And it's easy to just stash me away in boarding school like half of us are just stashed away there. And I get it." He swallows the lump in his throat, holding back his tears as best as he can. "She never has to look at me. Because maybe when she looks at me, she... she sees him."

     Hunham shakes his head at the boy. "No, no, no, no, no," he says, voice soft, gentle. "That can't be true. She... You're her son."

     "Maybe she's right," Angus says. "I can't keep it together. I lie. I steal. I piss people off. I don't have any friends, real friends. I'll probably get kicked out of Barton too. And when I do, it'll be my own fault. Get sent to Fork Union and maybe to you-know-where. And nobody will care." He takes a breath, staring down at his empty plate. "The funny thing is, I wanted to see him so bad this whole time. But I also didn't, you know? Because I'm afraid that's what's going to happen to me one day."

     Esther lifts her head. She doesn't know what she can do to make the boy not feel like this, but she knows she can give him the dignity of looking him in the eye while he speaks.

     "No, Angus, listen," Hunham starts. "You're not your father."

     "How do you know?" he asks.

     Hunham takes a breath. "Because no one is his own father. I'm not my dad. No matter how hard he tried to beat that idea into me." He turns away, staring into the near distance, before turning back to the boy. "I find the world a bitter and complicated place, and it seems to feel the same way about me. I think you and I have this in common. But don't get me wrong, you have your challenges. You're erratic and belligerent and a gigantic pain in the balls, but you're not your father. You're your own man."

     The beginnings of a smile start to show on Angus' face.

     "Man, no. You're just a kid. You're just beginning. And you're smart. You've got time to turn things around. Yes, I know the Greeks had the idea that, uh, the steps you take to avoid your fate are the very steps that lead you to it, but that's just a literary conceit. In real life, your history does not have to dictate your destiny... Oh." Something catches his eye, distracting him mid-speech. Esther and Angus both turn in the direction he's looking. "There's Mary."

     Angus turns back. "Can you not tell Mary or anybody?" he requests.

     Hunham waves his hand. "Entre nous. This whole goddamned trip is entre nous," he says, pushing. back his chair. "Stand up."

     "What?"

     Hunham looks back at Angus, looking genuinely offended. "Stand up for the lady, you boor. You cretin."

     So, Angus stands. Esther does too, although she doesn't know if proper etiquette requires women to stand for other women. She doesn't really know much etiquette at all, actually. Mary makes her way to the table, guided by a nicely dressed host who pulls out her seat for her.

     The trio at the table greet Mary as she takes her seat. Mary apologises for her lateness as the host passes her a menu. She doesn't even have a chance to look it over when a waitress arrives to take orders.

     "Hello, ma'am. Would you like a cocktail to start?" she asks.

     "Oh, no, I'll just take a cup of tea," Mary replies.

     Hunham, arms crossed, shakes his head. "Oh, come on. Have a cocktail," he says.

     "No, no, no. A cup of tea is fine. I've eaten already," Mary responds.

     The waitress nods and turns her attention to the other three at the table. "And, did you all save room for dessert?"

     Esther is about to tell her that she'll be alright without dessert, but Hunham diverts the focus to a table in the far corner. "Hey, what's that?" he asks. A waiter stands there, holding a dish containing a flaming dessert.

     "That's our signature dessert: cherries jubilee," the waitress replies.

     "That sounds great," Angus says.

     Hunham chuckles delightedly. "Bring the young vandal here cherries jubilee," he requests.

     The waitress frowns. "I'm afraid I can't. The dish contains brandy. Same deal with the bananas foster," she says.

     Mary furrows her brows. "Yeah, but doesn't the alcohol just burn off?" she asks.

     "It's still against the rules, ma'am."

     Well, that's bullshit.

     "Fine," Hunham says. "I'll order the cherries jubilee. We can share it."

     The waitress hums. "I can't allow that, either," she says.

     "You shouldn't have told her that you would share it," Esther mutters.

     Mary frowns and turns her head as she thinks. "Can we say it's his birthday?" she asks.

     Angus puts on his best winning smile. "It's my birthday!"

     The waitress puts her hand on her hip and turns to him. "Well, happy birthday, young man. Let's get you a slice of cake or some other age-appropriate dessert."

     Hunham rolls his eyes at the woman. "Christ on a crutch. What kind of a fascist hash foundry are you running here?"

     The waitress' polite smile drops off her face, and before she can do anything, Mary steps in to placate the situation. "Uh, excuse me, ma'am. Do you, by chance, have cherries?" They do. "Great. And do you have ice cream?" They do. "Fantastic. Can we please get cherries and ice cream to go?"

     "And the check," Hunham adds, crossing his arms over his chest like he just won the interaction.

     "Right away," the waitress says with a nod, disappearing to put the order in with the kitchen.

     "Bitch," Mary murmurs.

     They don't have to wait too long for either order considering how easy it is to prepare. The same waitress delivers the check and a small cardboard box containing a decent amount of scoops of vanilla ice cream and cherries thrown on top. Hunham pays and the group exit the restaurant together.

     Once outside, they walk the couple of blocks back to the hotel, where Hunham leads his companions to his car and places the box atop the trunk of his car. He opens it up and produces a flask from his coat pocket, pouring a hearty amount of amber liquid over the dessert.

     "All right. Go ahead," Hunham says, taking a drink from his Jim Beam as Mary leans forward — striking a match and dropping it into the box. The dessert lights and the group watches it burn, laughing happily. "Presto. Cherries jubilee!" Hunham announces.

     After a few seconds, the dessert is still burning and shows no signs of stopping any time soon.

     "Shouldn't it just go out?" Hunham asks, fanning his hand over the growing flames.

     Esther laughs harder, stumbling backward until she collides with Angus' side, and he grabs her arm to stabilise her. She glances up at him and, for just a fleeting second, her eyes fall to his lips. Just for a second.

     "How much alcohol did you put on there?" Mary asks.

     "It's hot. It's very hot!" Hunham exclaims, as if he wasn't aware that fire is, in fact, hot. He slaps the box as he's trying to fan at the flames, knocking it right off the back of the car where it lands on the asphalt, still upright and burning.

     They return to Barton the next day, all in much better spirits than they'd left in.

————

a/n:
it is LITERALLY christmas day and i'm still at it. only two chapters left, i've GOT THIS.

question of the chapter: what's your favourite movie of ALL TIME? i don't think i've asked that question, anyway.

mine is scream, i've adored it ever since i first watched it on christmas morning when i was... fourteen... maybe? i woke up really early that day and my parents weren't up yet, so i was browsing on youtube and what do you know? someone had uploaded the full movie. it's been almost nine whole years since then and i love it just the same, if not more, now. (except scream 7, fuck scream 7, i love you melissa barrera.)

published: december 25, 2024
word count: 4.6k