Chapter 22 #2
I wasn’t particularly excited to eat this overpriced, too-fancy dinner, but now everything tastes bitter. Even with Liliana rubbing my hand under the table.
Keller stares daggers at me. The lines of his face deepen while his chest rises and falls, growing quicker the longer I hold my ground. I didn’t say anything wrong, and he won’t scare me into thinking I did.
“Can we,” Billie says, breaking the awkward silence, “Go back to this being my birthday dinner, please?”
The anger raging through my body doesn’t seize, but it settles enough for guilt to seep in. My half-sister might be far from my favorite person, but it’s still her birthday. The point was to be courteous; not dump my daddy issues onto the table.
I let Keller have the win for our stare down and nod. “Yeah, sure. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
Keller tries to shoot his glare at her instead, but she’s already tucked her head back into her food when he tries.
The rest of dinner went uneventful, thankfully.
Liliana stayed my constant through the awkward pauses and butlers coming by to ask about dishes we’ve never heard of before.
Having her by my side in this is something I’ll never want to go without.
Another reason to want her in my life for as long as she’ll have me.
When the table is cleared, she runs off to the bathroom, and I’m already planning the rest of the night. Wrapped in my bedsheets, laughing until late hours of the evening, thinking of what we’ll have for breakfast tomorrow-
“Son.” Keller’s voice grates my ears, and I take my time turning around to face him. “Let’s talk.”
My father’s living room is empty, Mina and Locke nowhere to be seen, and Billie occupying herself on the terrace outside. I’m silently wishing one of his employees would come back and bug us about something, anything, to get me out of this.
“About?” I want to tell him “Let’s not,” but I’ve spent too much energy on him for one day.
“Your future.’’
I take it back. I have enough energy for a surge of annoyance, my nails digging into my bicep, arms crossed against my chest.
“We talked about that enough for one night.”
“Son,” Keller repeats himself, throwing his hand on my shoulder. It itches where he connects and I try to subtly shove him off. “You need to get serious about your career plans.”
“I have career plans.” They’ve been the same for as long as I can remember. Illustrator, ideally for children’s books, maybe cartoons later, when I get a better grasp on drawing people. But becoming a children’s book illustrator is the thing I’ve wanted for most of my life.
Anyone who knows me, would know that.
“Real career plans.” He finally takes his hand off my shoulder and mirrors my stance.
The gold buttons of his tuxedo reflect the ceiling’s light into my eyes, like it’s reminding me of how much money he holds.
“I wanted to do this at the table, but the conversation ran away from me.” Keller strains what he might consider a smile, but it only makes me more uncomfortable.
“I want you to start preparing to work for the company.”
An unnatural sound comes out of my throat.
“What?”
“You’re my oldest son. I tried to be patient and work you into this, but I’m afraid time is of the essence. The company should be handed down to you in the next decade or so.”
Negative feelings are all I’ve ever associated with my father, but this one is new: disgust. Disgust because he thinks he can tell me what to do so casually. Like I’ll upend my entire life to appease him. Even more at the fact that he assumes he can expect that of me.
I’m nauseous at the thought.
“I would rather stick my head into a blender.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
The first thing I noticed about my father when he showed up at mine and my mother’s townhouse, two days after she passed, was that were the exact same height and build.
Placement of our features, copied and pasted—the same length of our torsos, our feet turned the same way, eyes at perfect level.
But when I spit the words at him, he looks smaller than me. Shrinking.
“I said I would rather stick my head into a blender—do anything, really—than have any involvement in your company. I can’t think of a worse fate than being tied to your business for the rest of my life.”
His jaw unhinges. He really thought I was going to agree to this.
Keller’s back straightens and he turns his nose up. Despite what he’s trying to do, he still looks small from here.
“I’ve waited. I pay for your things, buy you supplies and even got you that Back Bay apartment. I let you go around and finger paint with your little art hobby. But you are a McCarthy, and you are the oldest, so it’s time you get serious about being in this family.”
“Oh, fuck off.” I wave my hand in front of his face and relish in the way his eyes widen. “This is your family, not mine. If you wanted me to be a part of it and take on your sad excuse of a corporate legacy, you should’ve decided that twenty-four years ago.”
There are voices in my head. They’re calling to me, trying to get me to understand that the reason I avoided flying off on my father for so long is because he keeps me steady while I finish my education.
But the emotions that I’ve sealed away during every missed accomplishment, every birthday, while watching wholesome family movies with fathers that care about their kids—those are what fuel me in this moment. I can’t stop myself.
“You know nothing about me. You don’t care to know anything about me.
And you sure as hell don’t give a shit about the fact that art is what I love and it’s what I’m meant to do.
But you know what, that’s okay.” I poke a finger into his chest. “Because I don’t know you at all.
You’re closer to being a stranger than you’ve ever been to a parent.
You can walk around and tell everybody I’m your kid, and you can come up with this idiotic idea of your son taking over the company, but it’ll never be me. ”
“Grant.” He points a finger at me and I smack it away. “I am your father.”
“But not my dad.” Keller sputters and I laugh. “Did you really think you could abandon me for my entire life and then ask me to give up everything I love to run your company? I hope you’re a better businessman than you are a father, because that was a huge lapse in judgement.”
He tries to say something. I only catch the words “ungrateful” and “McCarthy” because I’m too busy talking over him.
“You had every opportunity to create a relationship with me before this, but you waited until my mother passed to attempt a connection. Is that your sick way of trying to get ownership over me? Because she’s gone?”
“Your mother and I were a one-time thing on a drunken night. We barely knew each other. Did you think I would try to create a family with her?”
“You created a son with her! Me!” It was never about having a picket fence American family with two parents doting over their son. “I grew up wanting to be loved by my father, and despite that being the only thing I’m entitled to in life, I still didn’t get it.”
“I’m here now-”
“Because you want something from me.” My father is becoming easier to read.
He takes a deep breath. “There are a lot of people who are interested in the company, Grant. My time to retire is closer than you think. I want to hand my life’s work down to my son and avoid selling it to someone else.”
I mindlessly point and motion around the apartment. “Isn’t that what Locke’s for?”
“Locke has potential, of course.” He grunts. “But I’d like options.”
Options.
I nod. It’s been too many years of this for it to sting anymore. From the day I was born, to this very moment, I’ve been an option to my father. And for the last few years, I let myself be one for the sake of my comfortable lifestyle.
The expensive things and fancy apartment were the highlights of a dull life in that time. Derek hasn’t been around, and I don’t expect Heath and Clementine to shift their schedules to accommodate me. I allowed my father to wiggle his way into my life in exchange for the shiny stuff.
But now I have Lily. She brings more value into my life than any expensive item could. She’s provides me with more support than I’ll ever need.
I’ve been forcing myself to tolerate my father for his money, to give me anything substantial in my life. I don’t need it anymore. It’s not worth it.
“You can kiss my ass.” I start backing away. “I’m not going to be a backup plan for you. Your company can crash and burn, for all I care.”
“Don’t walk away from me.”
“I’m a grown man. I’ll do whatever the fuck I please.”
My back faces him, and I see Lily through the large glass windows, talking to Billie out on the balcony.
“Grant.” He’s using the same tone from the mall, that got Locke and Billie to snap to attention. The only effect it has on me is a shrilling sound in my ear. “I will cut you off. I will stop paying for your apartment and your car and your tuition.”
“Do it, then.”
I’m driven by anger, not logic, but throwing a middle finger up over my shoulder is what feels right. A real parent provides for their child because they care for them, not because it’s a transaction. I have no problem sacrificing that to make my point.
Plus, I haven’t forgotten who I am. My luxurious lifestyle is nice, but before Keller appeared where he was unwelcome, I planned a normal life. I have savings. I can work again if I need to. He’s not as irreplaceable as he thinks he is.
“Grant McCarthy, you face me right now.”
I continue to ignore him.
“Grant. You are my son!”
“I am my mother’s son.” I’ll turn around for this. Not for him, but for my mom. “And hers only.”
I show Keller my back again and he chooses not to follow. I don’t want to be in this apartment anymore, or ever again, but when I leave it won’t be uncomfortable or confused. I know who I am, who raised me, and how she did.
My mother raised me to be better than my father, and to not hold out my hand waiting for some sort of sign that he wants a real relationship.
He doesn’t. And that’s okay. For once, I don’t feel the tugging ache of needing him, emotionally or financially.
For once, I’m free.