Patrick has spent the past nineteen years being a mentor and a role model for Bart, but no longer. Now, the tables have turned—Patrick is the screwup and Bart is the hero, and who would have ever predicted that?
Before Bart left for Germany, he spent the night with Patrick, Jen, and the kids in Boston. Jen made roast chicken and potatoes and a banana cream pie, because it’s Bart’s favorite. After dinner and tucking in the kids, Patrick and Bart walked over to Silvertone and had a couple of drinks. Patrick told the bartender, Murph, that Bart was shipping overseas with the Marines, and with that, the fact that Bart was nineteen was ignored, and the first round was on the house.
Patrick said, “So, are you nervous?”
“God, no,” Bart said. “I’m pumped.”
“It’ll be good for you to get off the island,” Patrick said.
“Yeah,” Bart said. “I think Mom and Dad have finally run out of patience with me. And I don’t want to go to college, not right now, anyway. I’d party my ass off, flunk out, come home to Nantucket, and work as the first mate on some fishing boat the rest of my life. The Marines, man, it means something. Defending our country, our freedom, so people like you can go out and make millions of dollars each day.”
Patrick had laughed. They had done a shot of Jameson together with Murph, they had played some Kings of Leon on the jukebox, they had arm wrestled, and Bart had won. They had stumbled home arm in arm. Patrick experienced brotherly feelings he’d never had with Kevin, probably because he and Kevin were so close in age, raised as twins, or as two halves of the same person—the go-getter and the slacker, the perfectionist and the one who liked to half-ass things. Bart looked up to Patrick instead of resenting him, as Kevin did, and that felt good.
Patrick sighs. He thinks, Be honorable, wherever you are, Bart. Do the right thing instead of the easy thing.