Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nate
Another day, another fucking family gathering .
Since that night a week ago, I haven’t spoken to Dad, and I’ve barely spent any time at home.
It used to feel like home, now it’s just... well, it’s not the same.
But Mom has no skin in this shitty game Dad and I are pretending to play, and she asked me three times to be here tonight, so here I am.
It helps that some of Dad’s employees will be here, because so will his boss and all her family, which includes Seth. It’s a lifeline when they arrive.
Like it’s always been in our family, we all pair up. Zac and Chelsea are the same age just like Seth and me, and since Chelsea’s boyfriend, Arthur, has been joining these gatherings for a few years now, he goes off with them as well.
They might only be two years older than us, but they’re never going to let us forget it, and at twenty-six they feel like they’re the most sophisticated adults ever, the snobs.
Making fun of them and them teasing us has been a tradition for all our lives, so it’s not like I’m ever going to grow out of that habit.
Arthur’s a good guy, though. A bit older than them, but he’s smart. He worships the ground my sister walks on, and Zac assured me he’d always be watching out for her since they’re like the best friends ever, so I guess he can’t be too bad.
If the prince of New York finance gives his okay to someone, then who am I to say differently?
As I lead Seth to the bar the caterers have set up, I see Mom and Shirley laughing it up and Seth’s dad, Ethan, looking thoughtfully at the cigar box Dad’s holding open for him.
Jesus, this is all such a fucking cliché.
“You guys got here early,” I say, trying to act all casual while wondering what I should say to Seth so he understands I’m here for him. He still looks sad, like there’s a huge weight on his shoulders, and I want him to know he can share it with me. Everything.
“Yeah, Mom wanted to hang out with your mom for a while before everyone else got here.” I can see he’s trying to smile, actually really trying, but I know him too well to be fooled.
“I’m always here, okay?” I speak quietly but urgently, and lean in a little. “Whatever it is, I’m always here.”
Looking down at his glass, I see him swallow hard, but then he nods and looks me in the eyes.
“Thank you. I’ll—” He stops himself with another hard swallow. “Not today. I don’t know when, but I’ll take you up on that.”
I squeeze his shoulder and nod. “Whenever.” It’s a promise, and since I intend to keep it, I lead him over to the couches and start talking about anything but our lives. I tell him everything I’ve learned about the local gossip in the coffee shop I’ve been going to every day to pass the time, and about the new online game I discovered and I suck at.
We talk about the upcoming hockey season, as well as the football season, and little by little, as the room fills up with people, his shoulders relax, his cheeks stretch more easily, and he’s genuinely smiling by the time Chelsea taps a spoon to her wine glass and everyone quiets down and looks over at her.
I see it before she even utters a word.
You could see that damn rock from space for fuck’s sake, and I know she wasn’t wearing it before so...
“We’re so excited to announce,” Chelsea starts with a stupidly wide smile, and offers her free hand to Arthur. “That we’re engaged!”
Cheers and applause ring out through our home, and I can’t stop the smile on my face just from seeing how happy she is. Before I know it, I’m standing and walking over to the happy couple.
I’m there before anyone else, so I get to hug the life out of the brat, and I even pick her up and twirl her around while she squeals like a hyena right by my ear.
It’s still not enough to erase my smile.
“So happy for you, Chels,” I say over everyone’s voices.
“Thank you, Natey.” I groan at the nickname, and put her back on her feet.
I can’t stop myself from cupping her cheek as I look down at her.
“Arthur’s gonna make a great househusband,” I whisper, and wink.
She laughs with clear reluctance, but doesn’t deny it.
I go over to shake Arthur’s hand, and the poor bastard looks as happy as Chelsea does. I mean, he’s been living with her for almost a year, so I’m sure he knows how annoying she is and what a mess she can make inside a bathroom when she’s getting ready.
So he knows what he’s getting into, right?
I’m chuckling lightly at my own thoughts as I step back, and I happen to get a perfect view of my father over all the people crowding him and Mom.
He looks so fucking happy that it instantly sours my mood.
To avoid it, I look around, searching out Seth, and see him just finishing his own hug with Chelsea, so he’s by my side again in no time
“What’s the matter with you?” he demands, and I can only shake my head.
We’ve had the conversation about my relationship with my dad a couple of times, and that’s two too many for my liking. There’s no way I’m bothering him with this.
“Let’s just?—”
Again, the sound of silver against glass sounds over the room and interrupts my brush-off. We turn, and this time it’s my father who’s asking everyone for their attention.
“Thank you all so much for coming to celebrate this amazing surprise with us.” He looks at Chelsea with so much unbridled love that it actually stops my heart. And when his eyes shift to Arthur, I see respect there.
That’s two things I’ve never seen in his eyes when he looks at me, if we’re counting or whatever.
“I feel so incredibly lucky and grateful that I’ve gotten to witness you two fall in love and build your life together. I’m sure there’s so much more happiness and love in your future.” He raises his glass to them and smiles through the emotion that’s clearly doing a number on him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for my children. To know that you’ll be taken care of, and know the incomparable feeling of family. To Chelsea and Arthur,” he cheers finally.
The overwhelming emotion is nowhere to be seen by the end, but now it’s hitting me.
Does he mean that?
Is that really all he wants for me too?
Or was he talking out of his ass?
The realization that I need to know the answer isn’t as bad as knowing that the only way to know is to ask.
* * *
It’s almost seven hours later when the final guests leave with Chelsea and Arthur, and though my father isn’t anywhere to be seen, I know where he’ll be.
So I kiss Mom’s cheek even though her eyes fill with happy tears again—which they’ve been doing all day—then I hug her close.
I know confronting my father isn’t the best idea today, but I can’t not do it.
And I might get myself booted to the street once and for all.
Or...
Everything could get better.
If what he said is true, then maybe I can tell him the truth. Maybe I can show him what I’m doing with my life.
Maybe he won’t dismiss me.
So I squeeze Mom once more, then wish her a good night, and go to my room to get my laptop.
“Yes,” Dad calls out when I knock on his office door.
One more deep breath, and then I walk in, my strides determined and my gaze firmly fixed on his forehead.
I can’t look him in the eye when I say this.
So I don’t, and I just start talking.
“I’ve been lying to you. I do have a job. I’ve had one for years. Well, not a job, job, but look.”
I bring my laptop forward as I round his desk, and plop it in front of him before he has time to ask me what the fuck I’m talking about.
I keep staring at the screen, even when I feel him look up at me for a long moment, but he must see something that makes him stay quiet because he reaches for his glasses and inspects my portfolio.
It seems like he’s reading forever .
Clicking and changing pages, changing the ranges to see the progress over the last three years, then five, and then the last month only.
Then, when he’s apparently satisfied, he throws his glasses on top of his desk, leans back so his chair tilts, and spins it around so he’s facing me straight on.
And then he pulls the metaphorical rug from under my metaphorical feet.
“I guess it’s a good thing you won’t be coming to work with me.”
“What?” My words come out in a stunned whisper. I never actually thought?—
“I’d be out of a job in days ,” he shouts, and then he... smiles?
“What?” I repeat. It’s the only word I know now, apparently.
“This is amazing,” he cheers, and goes back to looking at the screen. Though now that he threw his glasses away he has to really lean in. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been doing this with your trust fund?” he asks, almost as an afterthought since he’s still entranced by the numbers.
“Because I do it for fun,” I say in a low tone, still not quite sure if I’m dreaming all of this. “I don’t want to...” I trail off. I have no clue how to explain it to him so he won’t explode.
“That’s even better,” he says and laughs. He actually laughs. “The things you could do.. .” He shakes his head and turns back to me once more. “So you thought I’d ruin the fun, huh?” The little smile he’s wearing makes me think he’s teasing me, but I can’t be sure. I can’t remember him ever doing that in the last ten years.
“Something like that,” I say, skeptical.
“Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?”
“Uh—” I stall, then decide to just come out with it. “How the fuck should I know?” I demand. “I’m twenty-four. Most days I don’t know what I’ll do that night.”
“Yeah, okay,” he grumbles, and moves his shoulders like he’s getting rid of tension there. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Uh-huh,” I agree, though now I don’t know what to do or say. In spite of my apparent bravado, I really didn’t think he’d take this so well.
“I think you should get more education for it. Maybe another masters that’s more focused on math, that way you can really?—”
“I knew it was too good to be true,” I snap.
“What? Nathaniel?—”
“No,” I interrupt him. “You can’t just accept that I’m not the screwup you thought I was, then turn right around and say I don’t know enough. After everything you said before? What about?—”
“I’m just trying to help,” he shouts over my rant, and that gives me pause.
“You are?” My voice drips with incredulousness.
“Yes!” he keeps shouting. “I’m just saying, if you want to manage your money this way, that’s fine. All I want is to know you’re not going to be out on the street someday. So I thought, maybe if you actually study what interests you, you can learn a bit more and have more security. That what you’re doing will help you have the life you want.”
I hear every word carefully, trying to find the trap, but I don’t find any.
“So another masters, huh?” I ask, like I didn’t just explode a minute ago.
“Yes. Something more focused on financial trends, statistics, maybe something like...”
He keeps talking but I can’t keep listening. I mean, I’m interested, and with just a few words I know that his idea has some good merit, but my mind is full of possibilities because...
There has to be someplace in England where I can get a masters like that, right?