Chapter Twenty-Eight
One day in mid-June, Jordan and I were driving back from the Los Angeles Convention Center, where we’d spent one of the days at the Electronic Entertainment Expo. This event, also known as E3, was the biggest event for gaming on the west coast along with Pax West and the San Diego Comic Con. And it wasn’t lost on me that this would probably be my last one as the CEO of Draco Multimedia Entertainment.
I was still experiencing that weirdly dizzying and slightly lost feeling whenever I’d contemplate the future. Sometime in the next six months, Jordan would be taking the helm as CEO, and I’d just be the Chair of the Board of Directors. It was still a powerful position from which I could influence the direction of the company. But I would be completely hands off on day-to-day decisions. That would be Jordan’s job. And he was clearly excited about it.
I couldn’t have chosen a better replacement, in terms of enthusiasm and general competence. But that reassurance did nothing to quell the strange cocktail of aching loss, the uncertainty and thrill of the open road in front of me.
As if echoing my thoughts, Jordan, who was driving us today in his huge Rivian SUV, turned his attention briefly from the road to glance at me. “You okay over there, champ? You’ve been quiet today.”
For some reason, a slight irritation flared up at him for noticing.
At my prolonged silence, he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you having second thoughts? Because I’m fine with that, you know. We haven’t gone so far we can’t back up. I just want to put it out there that I won’t be upset.”
I glanced at him. Maybe on the surface he wouldn’t be disappointed, but I was certain that deep down, he’d resent it. Besides, reversing the decision wasn’t something I’d even contemplated. It was my style to follow through on a decision once I’d made it. And my gut still told me this was the right thing to do.
I shrugged. “No, no. We’re not reversing this. I may just be jittery about an uncertain future. I’ve always had a goal and been driven to pursue it. Now I just have a vague sense of need to do good in the world.”
Jordan nodded. “You could hop on the AI bus. With your knowledge, you’d probably blow the rest of those emerging generative AI companies out of the water.”
I darted a look at him. “Messing with AI at this stage is a bit like sewing together a bunch of corpses, exposing the resulting monster to a shit ton of electricity, and then worrying about what to do with the animated creature you’ve created. No one knows where any of this is going to lead or how it’s going to affect our world as a whole. And it seems that no one wants to take it slow, just in case.”
He shook his head in amazement. “Adam Drake taking the conservative route. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I shrugged. “With great power comes great responsibility. Some of the most powerful aren’t behaving as responsibly as I’d like. AI can be a great force for good, but there are so many unknowns.”
“Are you hoping to get more involved with XVenture Space? You could guide them into private sector space exploration. Wouldn’t it be cool to get private astronauts on the Moon, maybe Mars someday? You could beat Musk to it. Send him a private greeting by drone in Valles Marineris when he finally does show up.”
I laughed. “I like the way you think. Yeah, I’ll probably continue working with XVenture. Not sure in what capacity. I’m seriously considering a sabbatical from all work during the first part of next year.”
“A sabbatical? Hmmm. So, you’re going to be the stay-at-home dad? Better start working on those diaper-changing skills, bro.”
I blinked and cranked my head toward him. “Wait, you already know? I was leading up to breaking the news.”
He laughed again, shaking his head. “Dude, the deed was done last week when Mia told April. You had to know she wasn’t going to keep from spilling the beans to me, didn’t you? I don’t think Mia asked her not to.”
I laughed. “I should have known. Who else has she told?”
“Oh no one else. She just figured it would be safe—or that you’d both assumed she’d be telling me.”
I sighed, a chuckle forming from my exhalation. “Well, I guess that makes breaking the news to you a lot easier.”
“Yup. It’s already done.” He shot me a smile. “Congratulations on the happy news. But please, for the love of God, promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Well even if you’re a stay-at-home dad for a while, promise me you’ll never wear one of those damn baby slings on your chest. You know, the ones that tell the world without even speaking that your balls are in a jar on a shelf somewhere in Mia’s office.”
I shook my head. “Goddamn, you’re a sexist.”
“In cases such as these, it’s about the bro code. Bros don’t let bros wear their babies like clothing accessories.”
And though his pronouncement made me roll my eyes at such a typical Jordanism, the visual made me laugh regardless.I had more than just diaper-changing skills to work on before the big day arrived. Thank goodness for those parenting classes. And therapy, because I had to make sure I was the best me I could be so I could be an even better dad.
To be honest, I’d never realized I’d gotten my vision of what therapy would be like from Looney Tunes. Typically some idiot character like Daffy Duck or Elmer Fudd would step into a wood paneled office to find a bespectacled Bugs Bunny, complete with large bushy mustache smoking a long pipe, sitting in a giant padded leather chair and ordering his patient to lie down on an equally old-fashioned looking leather couch while he took notes, puffed away on his pipe and asked his patient to “tell me about your childhood.”
Real therapy wasn’t remotely like that, which was a good thing. I didn’t need Freudian Bugs breathing over my shoulder and conking me over the head with an oversized mallet whenever I tried to get up from my seat.
Or maybe I’d just watched too many fucking cartoons in my childhood, which was a definite possibility.
Unfortunately, the childhood subject did come up because, as it turned out, that shit ran deep, and I hadn’t healed from it.
After a particularly harrowing session while talking about my sister, Sabrina—harrowing enough that I’d even shed a few tears—I had to laugh at myself. Kendra smiled and asked if I felt comfortable sharing what was funny.
“I was just thinking that I’m glad my wife isn’t here, or she’d be gloating about the fact that she was right.”
“What about?”
“Well, she’s the only other person that I’ve ever told all that to, and though I felt most of the time, that all that was behind me, she suspected more.”
Kendra tilted her head at me, nodding knowingly. “She’s a natural healer, as you say. Her chosen profession is healing the body, but she had to learn about that mind-body connection in medical school. She’s probably done a psych rotation.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s when she first brought up the subject of my going to therapy. Right after she finished that rotation. She didn’t mean it in an insulting way, but I’m afraid that’s the way that I took it.”
Kendra nodded. “It can be a sticky subject. There’s so much onus around mental health. It’s difficult, especially with male-presenting patients. For some reason, it’s been deemed ‘unmanly’, when in reality, it takes a monumental amount of strength to come to terms with seeking mental health healing. Things are changing now, though slowly. But they are changing. Does Emilia know now that you’re not angry at her for that suggestion?”
I fidgeted—literally squirming in my seat. “I, ah, she doesn’t know about us...I mean, about this.” I laughed at myself for making it sound like some kind of secret affair or something. “I mean, no one knows.”
She laughed. “You might want to break the news before she finds you keeping secrets and suspects something worse.”
“Have you ever heard of someone getting in trouble for going to secret therapy?” I laughed.
She quirked a brow. “Stranger things have happened, Adam. And believe me, if I could tell you about them, I would.”
I stopped by the canyon house afterward to check on the renovation progress and it was coming along nicely. There’d been some difficulties getting the necessary materials up the twisting canyon roads and the long driveway, but they’d managed, and were moving fast.
I was impressed.
And it gave me an idea. A devious, very Adam-like idea.
It was something I had to run by the general contractor. I had a feeling he’d be resistant, but I was prepared to wave a nice fat bonus under his nose until I got what I wanted.
Sure enough, it worked. And Emilia, who so loved to complain about my penchant for surprising her, would probably enjoy this one so much that she’d forget to complain.