Chapter 15 Voss
VOSS
Axl watches me. Maybe. He’s looking in my direction, though I can’t remember what the books said about how far he can see right now. I’m gently rocking his seat while rocking in my own.
We’re sitting in my office. His bouncy seat, or whatever the hell this little thing is, sits on my desk beside my three monitors.
One hand gently bounces him in rhythm with my own bouncing.
I’m not on the giant exercise ball, but the stool with the seat that isn’t secure, that’s also on a spring with no feet, forcing me to engage my core.
These stools are built for kids who need to work on their gross motor skills, whether because they’re delayed or recovering from an injury. They make them for adults as well. I found a lot of the unusual seating that I have in a physical therapy catalogue and asked Dr. Mark to order them for me.
I don’t need to work on my core. But the constant need to engage my core helps with my inability to sit still and concentrate. It means that a part of my brain is always engaged in keeping my balance. It means that my movement has a pattern to keep my balance.
“What do you think?” I ask Axl. “You think this fuckhead should get the seal to die?”
I’ve been reading the things I find out loud. In the background is classical music. I read that music helps their cognitive development or some shit. But always talking to them helps them become engaged and teaches them vocabulary.
Not that I want his first words to be ‘die,’ but we’ll work on it.
Reading out loud is also helping my brain slow down a little as my mouth struggles to keep up with what I’ve read. Every time I read an article to Axl, I stumble a little less over the words I’m reading. Who knew reading out loud could be such a challenge?
“The thing about good and bad is that some people think it’s up for interpretation,” I explain to my son.
“They think they can be evil if they say that their bible is against something in particular. They can condone cruelty if whatever they’re condemning is against their religion.
In reality, good and bad aren’t gray areas.
There are some things that immediately put you on the list of bad, but since I think you’re a little young to be taught about abuse, rape, trafficking, and shit, I’ll save that lesson.
But it’s never too early to teach you to be kind to everyone and keep your opinion to yourself unless it’s asked for, right? ”
I’m not sure who I’m asking. It’s not like there’s anyone else in the office. Besides, I’m his sole parent. That means it’s my job to decide what to teach him.
“I should be reading the ABCs to you, shouldn’t I?”
“I think you should read him that space book you loved as a kid,” Dad says.
I twist on my stool to find him standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets.
“Myro said he had that book memorized at six because you wanted him to keep reading it. You somehow knew when he was making up words, which drove him insane.”
“He learned them,” I say unapologetically.
“He credits you for his advanced reading as a kid. You were voracious but hated children’s books. You wanted to know about the world. Space. Biology. You were absolutely fascinated with the human body and how it worked when you were eight.”
I smile because, yeah, I remember that. I remember lying on my stomach on the floor of my room with a heavy textbook in front of me, pages spread wide open. I read slowly, sometimes struggling with words as I went. I had Myro’s tablet and constantly searched for definitions.
“I wonder if he’ll share my hunger for knowledge and science,” I muse as I look at Axl again.
Dad enters my office and stands beside me. He gently touches Axl’s fisted hand. Axl’s whole head shifts to look at my dad, but with him standing, there’s a good chance he only sees a dark blob.
“Sometimes, the love of learning is born into you, as was the case with you. Other times, it’s because someone teaches you to love it.
As was the case with Myro. Once he began reading to you, his interest in learning increased.
I’m not sure if it’s because he wanted to keep up with you or if you showed him that what he was learning in first grade was boring as hell and it gets more interesting later. ”
“It doesn’t,” I muse. “The most interesting things I learned, I learned on my own by seeking out the subjects I was interested in.”
Dad nods slowly. “I know. I’ve been researching different curricula around the world.
Of course, I have to follow the basics of the US education curriculum, which is a damn joke, but I think I can do that easily enough.
I’m not looking for their funding or support.
Only licensure, which means we need to have our kids reaching specific milestones each year.
Pathetic milestones, if you ask me. The more I look at the curricula, the more I wish I’d have sent you all to boarding school for an actual education. ”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I say. I’m not sure I say it convincingly, though.
Come fifth grade, I was bored as fuck, and it didn’t get better.
I always felt the material was dumbed down for the level of the person in the room who struggled the most. That meant the rest of us were not only not challenged but held back.
I don’t think that kid should have been left behind academically, but I also think that person was anyway. It’s not like they didn’t know they were the reason the class was moving so slow. It didn’t make them feel less singled out. It didn’t make them feel less stupid.
I’m not about segregation in schools. Certainly not how it looked in the past. But age isn’t what actually separates academic ability.
“The next generation of Van Dorens is going to learn shit. Real shit. How to identify a conman in politics as well as their damn alphabet,” Dad says.
I laugh. “I’m still waiting for the day you run for office.”
“Not a chance,” he says, shaking his head.
“My concern is for my family. We’re left alone because our wealth is greater than that of the cultists running amok in this country.
Yes, they hate that they can’t put pressure on me.
I’m ready to take my entire family and the trillions of dollars I bring to this economy and leave the fucking country. ”
“Bye, bitch,” I say.
He chuckles. “Exactly. You want to see spoiled grown men throw a fit—prove that they have no power over you. Speaking of which, I purchased an old farm in Wales. It’s close to where our family immigrated from.”
I shake my head. “That’s what, the third country you own land in outside of the US?”
“Third? Voss, I’m disappointed. It’s the eighth.”
I wince. “Shit. Can I blame baby brain?”
Dad looks at Axl with a smirk. “Sure. Speaking of the baby, I hired six nannies.”
My eyes widen. “Six? I asked for two.”
“Yes, well, I wanted someone available twenty-four seven, and they need days off, holidays, breaks, and shit so… this is what mathed correctly.”
I shake my head. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re not pressured to use any of them all the time. They’re there when you need them.”
“So what are they going to do when I don’t need them?”
“Axl has outgrown clothes he hasn’t worn. I’m guessing keeping the appropriate sized clothing in stock is a full-time job,” he notes.
I laugh. “For real.” I watch Dad stare at Axl for a minute. “Want to hold him? He’s about ready for his second morning snack.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your routine,” Dad says.
“I’m reading him scandalous articles. He can probably use the break.”
“At least you’re reading to him,” he says as I unbuckle him from his seat and then gesture for Dad to pick him up.
“I’ll get his bottle.” I get to my feet, catching my stool before it can fall, and lean it against my desk.
I’ve always had a mini fridge in my office. Now, it’s filled with breast milk. Not weird at all.
I have the biggest office in the building.
It comprises three rooms. The one in the far back might as well be an icebox since it houses all the sensitive electrical grid that runs Van Doren Estate’s security, technology, and shit.
It’s not the only grid. Just the primary grid.
The one I use when I want to play trial and error.
The actual main grid is underground in our bunker. No one can harm it if they can’t find it.
The second room is filled with electronic devices. I have an employee whose sole job is to keep everything updated with its latest firmware, software updates, and my security updates. Not to mention, they program whatever each department needs.
I take one of the bottles of milk from the fridge and twist the lid off before setting it in the little bottle warmer. I make sure the appropriate amount of water is in there still and then hit the On button.
“I can’t imagine how people did this before these little gadgets,” I muse.
“Microwave. Also, cow’s milk. That’s likely how drinking other animals’ milk came about. When a woman couldn’t produce sufficient milk for their kid, they had to turn somewhere.”
“Huh,” I say. That’s something I’ve never thought of looking up. Dad might be way off. Maybe some sick fuck just decided to suck a cow’s teat one day. That wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
When the beep notifies me that the bottle is warm, I pull it out, recap it, and dry it off before giving it a swirl. Then, I hand it to Dad. I kind of love seeing him hold my baby.
“You going to be Granddad, Grandpa, Papa…?” I ask.
Dad smiles. “Whatever he wants to call me.”
“You realize that we’ll have to supply something, right?”
“Mm,” he hums as he feeds Axl. “Granddad, maybe.”
“That’s what we call our grandfather,” I remind him.
“Yes, but they’re Great-Granddad.”
Dad will be far more present than his parents. I already know that. He raised his brothers, especially Uncle Noaz. Besides holidays, I can’t remember having seen our grandparents much.
Maybe that’s why Dad is so concerned with family. That’s why it’s such a priority for him. He didn’t want us to grow up with absent parents and our kids with absent grandparents. He’s seen and experienced both.
I’ve often read that it’s not just what you learn from your environment by observation that shapes what you do as an adult and the person you are, but also the absence of relationships, people, aspects of life.
When I look at our lives now and reflect on what I know of Dad’s childhood, everything makes a lot of sense. I can see the whys to all kinds of things.
“Lorissa is packing her bags,” Dad says.
I retake my seat on my rocking stool and wake up my computer. “She’s already been here longer than I expected her to be.”
“She says she’ll visit.”
I look at Dad with a raised brow. “I hope you don’t believe her.”
He sighs. I recall my conversation with Brek about what constitutes a happy, healthy household and wonder if Dad is going to comment on it. I don’t expect him to, honestly. I think he struggles more with the situation we were in with Mom than we do at this point.
“I suppose I hope she’ll change her mind. Not that Axl needs a mother. He has more love and structure here than most kids will have over their entire childhoods. I guess…” He shakes his head as he watches Axl drink.
“I think she’ll be back, but it won’t have much to do with Axl.
She doesn’t feel any maternal pull toward him, Dad.
She may feel familial in the same way she feels with everyone here now, having spent so long here.
When she returns, it’ll be because we’ve been a family to her in a way she’s never had before. ”
He looks at me. “She doesn’t have a good relationship with her family?”
“Dad, I hope you realize how uncommonly close we are.” I laugh a little. “Trust me when I tell you, it’s rare that almost the entirety of three generations live on the same property together. At the same time.”
“Is this a good opening to tell you that your grandparents are considering moving home?”
“Four generations,” I correct. “And why?”
“I’ve always anticipated that they’d come around once I had kids, but that apparently didn’t entice them as much as great-grandkids.”
“They didn’t come back for Emerson,” I say, frowning.
“You know, in a way, I think they consider Emmy their great-grandkid, too. Just as you consider him your nephew. We’ve always worked in age brackets over actual generations.”
“Huh. You think they’re going to stay?”
Dad shakes his head. He pulls the empty bottle away and sets it aside. I watch as he adjusts Axl in his hold so he can pat his back to get any air bubbles out.
“To be honest, I don’t know. I think it’s weird that they’re talking about moving home.
They didn’t come home when I rebuilt this entire estate.
They didn’t come home when I left your mother and brought my six kids here to raise.
They didn’t come home when Noaz moved home, when they got married, or when they brought Emerson home.
But they’re coming home now.” He shakes his head.
“I don’t know if it’s a coincidence with Axl’s birth or something else. ”
“You sound… annoyed.”
He meets my eye. “My parents are only marginally better than your mother. They weren’t…
abusive. But they were neglectful of my brothers almost as soon as Arath was born.
Once Myro was born and they saw how close my brothers were to my kids in age, how much my brothers wanted to be around me and you kids, they stopped parenting.
It’s like they handed my brothers to me and relieved themselves of their parenting duties. ”
“You’re resentful,” I correct.
“A little. Not because I didn’t want my brothers around, but they deserved better than that. They deserved their actual parents.”
“I think they had a better parent in you than they would have with your parents. You wanted them around. They probably already felt your parents not wanting them around.”
Dad scowls. I rarely see Dad scowl, so I know he’s really annoyed.
“Whatever they come home for, we all know they’re not our immediate family, Dad. My brothers know that. Your brothers know that. They don’t get to move home and suddenly become the ones everyone loves. That’s always going to be you.”
Dad meets my eye, and I think I hit on what was bothering him.
“You’re Granddad. No one can take that from you. Not for Axl and not for Emerson.”
A smile touches his lips, and he lowers his eyes. Timing is everything, and Axl lets out a loud belch. Apparently, we’re finished with the sentimental shit.