Double Your Age - 1. Chapter 1 - The Fog over Lake Marron

Rich never failed to be impressed when he walked into his uncle’s home. Philip – who was technically his mother’s cousin – lived in a sprawling 6-bedroom villa sitting on the eastern edge of Lake Marron with his wife and two teenage kids. Its massive pine doors gave way to a splendid faux-marble foyer from which you half-expected a butler to emerge. As it were, Evelyn, his mild-mannered wife, was the one to greet him, and receive his gift – a box of truffles coated in powdered chocolate, which sat humbly in his hands; a small token in a place where money clearly had no bounds. She wouldn’t know that he’d specifically waited for them to be discounted before buying them, not because she’d discern their quality, but because she was detached from the world of grocery shopping. Everything she wanted fell into her lap, and she always assumed it to be of the highest calibre.
“Hello darling. Oh what are these?” Evelyn took the chocolates from his hands and gave them what he felt was a token rub. “Oh they look delightful, I’m sure the boys will love them.”

“Feel free to have some yourself, Evelyn.”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly. I absolutely did not hold back in the slightest the holidays. I tell you, the absolute feast we had on Christmas day. It’s such a shame you couldn’t join us.”

There was something about Evelyn’s tone that struck Rich as disingenuous. It was a common feature of herself and her husband; he could rarely tell when they were being sincere, and he doubted they ever were. Philip, he knew, had a reason to be this way. His career, the reason he was able to live this way, was built on shrewd maneuvering and guile. Whether he was always like this or he’d developed it over time was a mystery to Rich; he’d only known him since attending college not far away from him – a coincidence his mother took delight in. Over a decade had passed since then, but his visits were rare. On this night, like the most of the other times he’d crossed their threshold, he had arrived with a purpose.

Rich sunk his head, looking down at his loafers.

“Yes. I just didn’t really want to celebrate this year. I’m sure you understand.”

Her face turned sallow; her expression turned to one of pity. She placed the silky, moisturised palm of her hand on his shoulder.

“How you deal with loss is your personal business. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. If you need to be around people – if you need to be around family – we’re here.”

Rich felt there was authenticity to these words; that there was experience, experience of what he’d been through. Although what that was and how similar it was would be a mystery, just as her whole life was to him. All he knew is that he could not imagine anyone to feel the pain that he felt; that he was alone in his suffering, and that only he knew the weight and burden of despair.

“Come on in,” said Evelyn. “Philip and the boys are in the sitting room.”