24. Sam
CHAPTER 24
SAM
I felt like I’d been hit in the head with something big, soft, and heavy. A cotton bale, maybe. A boxing glove full of feathers. A comically huge one, like from a cartoon. Had Lana just said, had she said, was it mine? Why hadn’t I asked her that? Or how she was feeling? Or any of the things a sane person would ask. How far along are you would’ve been a start. Did you go to the doctor? Do they know the sex? Anything in that area. Anything at all.
“Sam?”
What had I said to her? I tried to replay it, but our whole encounter was a cottony jumble. She’d said she was pregnant, and I’d said… something. I must’ve said something, or had I not? Had I just stood there, or worse, run away? I’d been late to see Dad. Late and distracted. Then Morris had poked out, and?—
“Sam.”
I cleared my throat. “Yes. It’s been great.”
Dad stared at me like I’d grown two heads. “What’s been great?”
“What you said. The transition.” I straightened up, trying to look calm.
“I said that five minutes ago.” Dad took a good look at me and his brows drew together. He clapped his hands twice, a familiar gesture. “All right, that’s it. Everyone out. No, not you, Sam.” He set his hand on my shoulder. Morris got up, and the rest of the VPs. They filed out, some stopping to shake Dad’s hand. He brushed them off brusquely and shut the door behind them.
“What’s the matter with you? I swear you look drunk.”
I pushed my chair back as he leaned down to smell me. “I’m not drunk. I’m fine.”
“Then what was I saying before ‘It’s been great?’”
I shrugged, feeling ten years old. A kid in trouble.
“If it’s not drink, what is it? Can’t you handle the pace? Because if it’s the job?—”
“Lana’s pregnant.”
Dad blinked. “Who’s Lana?”
I clenched my fists. “ Lana . The one with the bookshop. The one I was living with when you kicked me out.”
“I didn’t kick you out,” said Dad. “I sent you to… Wait. Are you saying it’s yours?”
I flung my hands in the air. “What did you think I meant?”
“I thought you meant your assistant. Is she not called Lana?”
My assistant was Rashida. She’d been Dad’s assistant before mine. He’d known her how long, and never learned her name?
“Anyway, that’s great. Congratulations.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Did you just find out?”
It was my turn to sit blinking like a dazed fighter. I didn’t know what I’d expected from Dad, but a casual congrats bottomed the list. He was shuffling through papers like this hardly mattered, like I’d just told him I’d got a new haircut.
“We’ll have a party,” he said. “Let everyone meet her.”
“A party? What?”
Dad glanced up and laughed. “What’s the matter? You two on the outs?”
“It’s a baby .” I stood up, then sat down again. “Less than nine months from now, I’ll be a father. I’ll be waist-deep in diapers. My whole life will change. And Lana… I don’t know if she even likes me. I swore I’d be there for her, then I let work take over. I practically ghosted her. I left her alone.”
Dad chuckled. “She’ll get used to it.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’ll get her a nanny and a house in the country, put a ring on her finger, and she’ll be happy. You’ll see, you’ll love it. You’ll drive out on weekends. She’ll have your kid ready. Excited to see you.”
A strange sound broke out of me, half-laugh, half-shout. In my head, I was five again, in my first suit, my hair slicked down neat, my nails brushed and trimmed. Waiting in the front window for Dad’s car in the drive. Sometimes I’d sit there and wait half the day, my suit slowly wrinkling as I wriggled around.
“I don’t want that,” I croaked.
“What, to get married? That’s a little more complicated, but our lawyers will?—”
“That life.” I stood up so fast my chair nearly toppled. “I don’t want to be that kind of father. Or that kind of husband. That kind of man. I don’t want my kid asking ‘when’s Dad coming home,’ and Lana having to say to him, ‘soon, sweetie, soon.’ I don’t want him at boarding school and coming home for his break, and finding out Mom’s gone, and you never said. Didn’t it occur to you I’d want to say goodbye? Did you even— Her funeral… Who’d you invite? Did you have those chrysanthemums she loved from the garden?”
“Peonies,” said Dad. “And yes. We had those.”
“But you didn’t have me . Don’t you know how that felt?”
Dad fixed me with a blank look. “I did the best I could. What I thought was right. If you think you can do better, go on and try. But take it from me, you can’t have it all. Women are learning now what we’ve always known, there’s work life and home life, and you get to pick one. You try to do both, you won’t shine at either.”
“You’re wrong,” I said. “And it’s sad, because you’ll never see it. But I saw in Haverford what we never had. Families, real families. Living real lives. I don’t want my kids waiting all day for their father. Waiting a lifetime to hear me say I’m proud of them.”
“I’ve always told you?—”
“You haven’t. Not once.”
“I’ve shown you. I’ve given you all that I had.” He flung out his arms, gesturing wide. I shook my head, pushed my chair in, and plucked off my headset.
“I don’t want it,” I said. “I never did. I did all this for you, and I’m a fool for not seeing it.”
“Sam—”
I dropped my headset on the table. “It’s over. I’m done.”
I thought Dad would follow me when I stormed out, but when I glanced back, he hadn’t even got up. He had his phone out already, squinting down at the screen. The fog had gone from my head and just one thought remained: I had to find Lana. I had to make this right.
I couldn’t keep her waiting even one second more.