Chapter 2
Alexander
The pitch was almost vacant.
Parents were retrieving their chairs. The kids were pulling the gear into their automobiles. The afternoon sun was already falling behind the trees.
And there was my son sitting on the bench by himself.
Noah's shoulders sagged.
His football shoes were covered in muck.
His jersey was dirty with grass.
He no longer looked like the confident little boy who had stepped out of our house that morning in his favourite blue jersey. He looked seven years old.
I pulled up next to the field.
“Noah.
He looked up.
His face brightened up for half a second.
Then the lights went out.
“You’re tardy.
The words came harder than they ought to have.
I had a meeting.
He shrugged his shoulders.
Mom said you would.
I leaned over in front of him.
“I’m sorry.
He gazed beyond me.
“You said you wouldn’t miss it.”
I know.
You say that every time.
I received no reply.
He was right.
My phone vibrated.
I stared at the screen.
Three missed calls from my CFO. Two urgent e-mails.
Instantly my instincts kicked in.
The company needed me.
There was always something needing me.
A merger.
A crisis.
A give and take.
A problem that would have cost millions to fix if I hadn't been there.
That was my universe.
I’d established Vale Industries from the ground up. I’d worked for years so my family would never have to worry about money.
And yet, sitting across from my seven-year-old kid, I immediately asked myself why none of that seemed to matter.
“Come on,” I told him. “Let’s go home.”
Noah stood up.
He didn't hold my hand.
So I pretended not to see.
When we got home Clara was waiting in the kitchen.
She was standing by the island, still in the plain white shirt she had worn that morning.
She crossed her arms.
She was silent.
It was worse than fury.
'Hi,' I said.
“Hi.
I looked at Noah.
Without a word he went upstairs.
Clara saw him away.
Then she glanced at me.
“You missed the whole match.
“I had an emergency.
“You met.”
Same stuff.
Her eyebrows went up.
“Not at all. It’s not.
I breathed out.
"Clara, I can't just walk away from a multi-million dollar agreement because Noah has a soccer game.
Her eyes twinkled.
"Not. “But you can get out of a meeting because your son is seven years old and thinks his father is coming to see him play.”
I loathe the guilt that winds in my chest.
So I did what I normally do.
Got my wallet.
“What was the cost of the new equipment?”
She looked at me.
What?
“To Noah. I will make sure someone orders whatever he needs."
Her mouth dropped open.
And then she laughed.
Not that anything was hilarious, though.
It was the kind of laugh that made me feel like I had failed a test I didn't know I was taking.
“This isn’t about equipment, Alexander.”
“What is it about then?”
“You.”
I furrowed my brow.
“I’m here.
"No. You are here, in person.
I didn’t get it.
I gave her all.
Our house had seaside views. She had all the accounts she needed. If she wanted a new car, she had one. If she wanted to go anywhere, we went there. If she wanted anything, all she had to do was ask.
What more can a husband give?
“You have everything, Clara,” I replied in a low voice.
She gazed at me for a few seconds.
Then she uttered something I couldn’t shake.
“I have everything but you.”
She rose and went off.
I stood watching her.
I didn’t comprehend women.
I didn't get my wife, specifically.
I believed that love would protect me.
Security.
Paying the bills. Keeping the lights on.
I thought love was constructing an empire so strong, my family would never need anything from anybody.
Clara evidently wanted something money couldn't buy.
I was there.
My focus.
My time.
Things that I never thought were valuable because they were not measurable.
The next morning my father was waiting for me in his study.
He did not offer coffee.
“Sit down.
I sat down.
He smacked a newspaper on the desk.
A picture of Noah's football team ran the length of the sports page.
Noah was in the midst.
His teammates smiled.
I was not in the image.
"Cute," I said.
My father looked more sharply.
“You missed your son’s game.”
“I had business to do.”
“You’re always in business.”
“Because somebody has to run the company.
"You're not the only man in the world who can sign a deal.
I sat back.
"You don't comprehend.
"I understand perfectly."
His voice went low.
“That boy was searching for you.
I turned aside.
My father let out a sigh.
“You’ve spent your whole life thinking that providing and loving are the same thing.”
I didn't answer.
Then he asked the question I didn’t want to hear.
"Do you love your wife?
My jaw clenched.
“Certainly.”
It was too fast.
My father saw it.
“Then tell it.”
I gazed up at his face.
“I love my family.
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
I stood up.
“I have a job.
“Alexander.
I paused in the doorway.
“Do you love Clara?”
I could not answer.
I knew it, of course.
Because the question suddenly seemed risky.
That evening my mother had dinner.
Clara sat down beside me.
She said little.
I reached for her hand under the table.
She brushed it away.
That little rejection bugged me more than it should have.
Then the front door sprang open.
My mother grinned.
“Vivian!”
I turned round.
Vivian Hart came into the dining room in a black dress and with the confident smile I knew from childhood.
She'd been brought up among us.
She knew who my family was.
She knew the traditions we observe.
She knew me before I became Alexander Vale, the wealthy CEO.
It’s been a long time,” she said.
I stepped up and embraced her.
"Good to see you."
Clara eyed us from across the table.
Her look altered.
I couldn't say.
Vivian sat next to my mother and began to relate stories of our upbringing.
I laughed.
Clara did not.
After supper, I discovered Vivian alone in the hallway.
You seem distracted,' she replied.
“Long week.
She smirked.
“Difficulty with marriage?”
I went rigid.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because everybody can see it.”
I didn't say anything.
Vivian moved closer.
"Alexander, some ladies don't realise when they lose a man.
My stomach clenched.
I glanced toward the dining room.
There was Clara standing.
They are watching us.”
And for the first time I wondered if Vivian had just spoken what Clara feared.
Or if she knew something that I didn't.
Either way, her remarks followed me long after dinner finished.
Some women don't know when they've lost a man.