by E. L. Todd
This was happening too fast. I hadn’t even entertained the idea of being a published writer. “I’m good, but…I’m not that good.”
“Ro, you are that good. I wouldn’t push you to put yourself out there unless I believed in you.”
That made me feel warm.
“You obviously can’t work for your father. That’s out of the question.”
It was? “Oh?”
“You’re meant to be a writer. Having you be a CEO would be a waste of time and potential. Besides, Skye seems to be built for it. She’s so similar to her father that it’s frightening.”
“She is annoying.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said with a laugh. “You need to pursue this, Roland. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I wasn’t sure where to even begin.
“Have you ever wanted to be a journalist?” she asked. “A lot of aspiring writers do that to get by until their books take off.”
“Yeah, that would be awesome,” I blurted. “Writing for the New York Times or Rolling Stone would be ridiculous.”
“Then apply.”
“With what skills?” I asked. “I don’t even have a degree in English.”
“You’re so talented you don’t need it…”
My mom hadn’t praised me like this since I got the acceptance letter from Harvard. “No one is going to hire me.”
“You’re forgetting who your father is…” She gave me a knowing look while she sipped her coffee.
Having a rich and influential father always played in my favor, but this time, I didn’t want to rely on that. If this was something I really wanted, I had to work for it. When I thought about the hundreds of other people who applied for those positions every day, it didn’t seem fair to cut in line. “I don’t want his help.”
“Really?” She set her coffee down, surprise in her eyes. “You always drop your last name if you can get anything out of it…particularly women.”
I shook my head. “Not this time. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Okay.” She didn’t press me on it. “Where will you start?”
“Not sure…”
“Are you going to finish your degree?”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked. “I assumed you would want me to.”
My mother shrugged. “It’s up to you, Ro. You have another year after this one…it seems like a waste of time if you aren’t going to use it.”
“But then I won’t have a degree at all. Who would hire me?”
“People care more about experience and ability. If you write this well, they aren’t going to care. You just need to find a way to show them.”
That sounded simple in theory, but I knew it wouldn’t be.
I thought about what my mom had said for days. Was I a good writer? It sounded too good to be true. The idea of writing stories and books other people wanted to read was terrifying, but in a good way. When I thought about what I would do with my life, I realized nothing interested me, not in the way writing did. Running my father’s company sounded innately boring. And working with my sister every day sounded like torture.
Maybe I should pursue this. But how would my dad feel? I doubt he would approve of me dropping out of college. Me attending was always an expectation for him. And he would’ve wasted a lot of money if I never got my diploma. But my mom seemed to be okay with it, and she could convince my dad to do pretty much anything. So, having her on my side was helpful.
After thinking and deliberating for days, I decided to take a trip home and speak to my father. I wasn’t sure how the conversation would go, but perhaps if I let him read my work first, it would help.
I arrived at the house past five and walked inside with my bag over my shoulder.
“Ro, is that you?” Mom called from the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
She came out a moment later, wearing a pink apron. “I’m so happy to see you.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “I can take your bag for you.”
I kept it out of her reach. “I can do it.”
“Okay.” She stepped back. “So, nervous?”
“A little.”
She rubbed my arm. “You’ll be fine, dear.”
“Is he home?” He would normally be sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee while he watched my mom cook.
“No, he’ll be late today,” she said with a sigh. “Something came up at the office.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“I’m sure it’s fine. Your father hardly ever stays late because he’s a slacker, so I’m sure it’s just biting him in the ass.” She chuckled then headed to the kitchen. “Want anything?”
“A beer.”
“You just walked in the door,” she said with a laugh.
I left my bag by the door then took a seat at the table. “I like beer.”
She grabbed one from the fridge then handed it to me. “Just like your father.”
I sipped it while my mom cooked. The smell from the oven indicated we were having lasagna for dinner. Garlic bread came into my nose, and I realized how hungry I was.
An hour later, my dad walked inside with his bag over one shoulder. His suit was wrinkle-free like usual, and his Rolex was shiny like a new car.
“Hey, baby.” He kissed my mom the moment he walked in. “Sorry I’m late.”
I thought it was hilarious how much of a wimp he was with my mom. He reported to her like she was a drill sergeant and tried to make sure he did everything right so he wouldn’t be punished.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes things happen.”
He sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”
“That’s just me,” she said playfully.
He smirked then pulled her closer to him, giving her a kiss that was inappropriate for an audience.
“Ahem.” I cleared my throat.
My dad ended the embrace then stared at me with a grin. “Sorry, Ro. Didn’t see you there.”
“Scan the room next time.”
He placed his bag on the counter then came to me. His hand went to my shoulder. “What a nice surprise.”
I stood up and embraced him. “Everything okay at the office?”
He returned the hug. “Nothing to worry about.” He dropped his touch and stepped away.
If there was something wrong at the office, I knew he would never tell us. “Let me know if you need help.”
He laughed. “What are you going to do? Fetch coffee?”
“Hey, I can do reports and assessments. I’m not totally useless.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He headed out of the kitchen. “I’ll shower then join you for dinner.”
“Okay, dear,” my mom said.
My dad walked to her then stared at her apron. “Where’s the one with the fish on it?”
I had no idea what they were talking about.
“It’s in the wash,” she said with blushed cheeks.
“Oh, I guess I should have gotten you an extra one.” He gave her a dark look before he walked away.
I didn’t want to know what that was about.
My dad’s voice came from the entryway. “Why is the alarm off?” Judging by the tone of anger in his words, he wasn’t happy.
“I knew Roland was coming so I turned it off,” my mom called.
My dad walked back into the kitchen, not looking thrilled. “Leave. It. On.”
I rolled my eyes. “Dad, chill.”
“I’m not talking to you,” he barked. He kept staring at my mom. “I don’t ask for much, so please just do this for me.”
“Sorry,” she said quietly.
My dad dropped the argument then headed upstairs.
My mom kept cooking like nothing was amiss.
“Why is he like that?” I asked. Ever since I could remember, he’d been paranoid about our safety. I knew he had guns in safety boxes around the house, and there were cameras posted outside. Maybe he was afraid someone would ro
b us because we had an expensive house. I wasn’t sure.
“Your father is just very cautious…” She pulled the pan out of the oven then left it on the stove. Then she removed the garlic bread.
“But why? He’s a psychopath.”
She set the table then brought the food over.
My stomach rumbled at the sight of it.
“Your father is just…protective.” She removed her apron then hung it up.
“Yeah, I picked up on that,” I said sarcastically. “But why? Did something happen? Uncle Mike is weird like that too.”
She poured two glasses of wine. “Just don’t worry about it.”
I knew my questions were being dismissed.
My dad came downstairs wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He kissed my mom before he sat beside her. “I’m sorry I…escalated like that.”
“It’s okay.” She said it like she was used to it.
My dad made a plate for her then passed it to her. Then he made his own.
After I piled my plate with food, I dug in.
“How’s school?” my dad asked.
My mouth was stuffed with food. “Good—I—yeah.”
My mom tried not to laugh. “Swallow your food then talk.”
I got everything down my throat then spoke. “It’s alright.”
My dad sipped his wine then ate slowly, like he usually did. “Your sister?”
“I don’t talk to her,” I blurted.
“Well, you see her every day,” my mom said.
“But that doesn’t mean I talk to her,” I said immediately.
“And Cayson?” my dad asked.
“I don’t talk to him much either.”
My dad seemed amused. “Who do you talk to?”
“Conrad,” I answered.
“And how’s he?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I think he’s good.”
My mom rolled her eyes then kept eating.
After dinner, my mom said she was tired and headed into her room.
My dad turned to me, suspicious. “You have something you want to tell me?”
How did he know that? “Huh?”
“Your mom never goes upstairs when you guys are home. You must want to speak to me privately.”
Why couldn’t my dad be stupid like everyone else’s? “Maybe…”
He poured himself a brandy. “Please don’t tell me you knocked up a girl. I can handle anything but that.”
“No,” I snapped. “I’m not an idiot.”
My dad released a heavy breath. “That’s debatable…”
I poured my own glass and sipped it, feeling the warmth spread through my body.
My dad relaxed into the couch. “What’s up, son?”
“I want to show you something.”
That caught him off guard. “What?”
I opened my bag and pulled out the revised stories I’d written. Then I passed them to him.
He stared at the front page. “What is this?”
“Stories…I wrote.”
He flashed me a confused look before he turned the first page and began to read. He abandoned his brandy and glued his eyes to the paper, reading every line and every word. He turned the pages, flying through the story.
I stayed quiet, being patient.
My dad rubbed his bottom lip with his fingers, what he usually did when he was deep in thought.
Did he like it? Did he hate it?
He kept going, ignoring me while he read.
When he was almost finished, he closed the folder. He stared at the front page, not saying anything.
Should I say something…?
Then he turned to me. “You wrote this?”
I nodded.
He kept staring at me. “Roland…wow.”
Did he just say wow?
“They are great. No, they are amazing.” He felt the paper in his hands. “I mean no offense, but I’m shocked you wrote them.”
I chuckled. “None taken.”
He flipped through the pages again. “This is quality stuff…”
His praise was making me warm in the face. I was always desperate for his approval, considering him to be a role model since I was little. I always wanted to be strong and intelligent like my father.
“You’re very talented, son.” He clapped my shoulder and held it there for a moment before he dropped it. “I’m assuming you already showed your mother?”
I nodded. “She edited them for me.”
He smirked. “I guess I’m not surprised.”
“She told me I should show you.”
“I’m glad she did.” He left the folder on the table then leaned back in the chair. “What are you going to do with it?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…”
He patiently waited for me to spit it out.
“I…I don’t want to work for you. I appreciate the offer and know most people would kill for the position, but…it’s not for me. Skye can handle that place on her own. She doesn’t need anyone because she’s so smart and organized… Don’t tell her I said that.”
His eyes brightened in amusement.
“I think I want to be a writer.”
“You think?” he asked.
“I mean, I know.”
He nodded slowly. “Then that’s what you should do. Normally, I wouldn’t agree with that, but after seeing your work, it would be a shame to have you work in an office and waste your time.”
That was the reaction I expected. But I didn’t know what he would say next. “So…I don’t really see the point in finishing my degree…” All I heard was crickets. My dad didn’t react at all.
He stared at the opposite wall. “That’s a big decision.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you major in English instead? It’s already a competitive world. It would be a struggle to land a good job without a formal education.”
“But then I’d have to start over…and I’d be there for three more years. And honestly, I feel like I have nothing else to learn. I’d just be wasting more time.”
He nodded. “I understand that.”
“So, if it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to drop out.”
“There’s that word again…”
“I mean, I know I want to,” I said firmly.
He took a deep breath and rubbed his chin. “If that’s what you want, I won’t give you a hard time about it.”
“But I want your approval, not just your acceptance.”
“Roland, my opinion doesn’t matter. You need to do what you believe is best for you. Your mother and I will guide you as much as we can but…you know yourself better than we do.”
“Dad, your opinion does matter to me.”
He turned his gaze on me, his blue eyes piercing and frightening. Sometimes I thought he could see through the back of his head, because he caught me every time I did something wrong. “You’re a man, Roland. You need to stand up for what you believe in and pursue what you want. Your mother and I will love you no matter what. But you aren’t little anymore. Your mother and I have no control over what you do. Follow your heart and see where it goes. You’re taking a big leap here. Most people would settle for a CEO position making a killing. But you aren’t like that. You want to go out into the world and find your own way.” His hand moved to my shoulder. “I’ve never been more proud.”
My whole body tingled. Every time my dad said he was proud of me, I felt elated. “Thanks…”
He dropped his hand. “But good luck.” He added a laugh. “It’s going to be damn hard to get into that business. You’re lucky you have me and Aunt Janice to help.”
“I don’t want your help,” I blurted. “I’ll do it on my own.”
His eyes flashed again. “That’s my boy.”
“I’ll pay you back for my tuition…that I wasted.” I’d always feel guilty about that.
“Don’t worry about that. You don’t owe me anything, Ro.”
I was still goi
ng to pay him back—whenever I got the money. “Does this mean you aren’t proud of Skye? Since she’s settling?”
He laughed. “Settling? That girl was made to do that job. She’s a smaller and prettier version of me. I have no doubt she’ll run that place smoothly, and I know it’ll be better off because of her.”
“I feel bad for those employees…”
My dad smirked. “I don’t. Your sister has the compassion and grace of your mother but the hardness and bite I possess. They’ll love her.”
“Are you excited for her to graduate?”
“Very. I want to retire early.”
“But what are you going to do?” I asked. “You aren’t even fifty yet.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know…spend time with your mother.”
“But you’re with her all the time.” I made a disgusted face.
“Maybe she and I will travel the world. I still haven’t taken her to the Bahamas. She’s been bugging me for a while.”
“Spoiled,” I mumbled.
“You’re one to talk,” he jabbed.
I drank my brandy and finally relaxed. My dad was on board with my plan and so was my mom. Being a college dropout was a little scary, but I was excited for what was ahead.
“What are you going to do first?” he asked.
“Try to write for a magazine or newspaper.”
He whistled. “You and every other writer in this country.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“And what about your stories?” he asked.
“I’ll submit them to publishing houses. I’m sure it’ll take years before I can make a living being a novelist. I’ll need something else to make rent.”
“Just don’t write for a political magazine.”
I turned to him. “Why?”
“I don’t want you leaving the country to do research on international riots and wars. Your mother wouldn’t either.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. That doesn’t sound interesting to me at all.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Now I won’t have a heart attack before I’m fifty.”
“You’re in too good of shape anyway.”
He smirked. “Did you just give me a compliment?”
I realized my error. “No…”
“Too late. You can’t take it back.” He grinned like an idiot. “I’m telling your mother.”