he cared. In fact, he probably treated them a little nicer."
"Look, I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head, suddenly filled with regret and contempt for what I said. “I know you're a good man, and I know that you're a good husband. And I know that you love Marguerite. But I also know that, just like me, you have something to prove. Marguerite made you ineligible for the money in that trust.
“There's six million dollars and I know that the reason why you're working so hard right now is try to make as much money as possible to prove our mom, our grandfather, everyone wrong. You're trying to make that money for yourself, but you don't need to. You have a beautiful wife. She loves you. She has loved you for years. You're going to have this child. You don't want to miss out on time with them just because you're trying to prove something to a ghost.”
The rest of dinner is pretty uneventful. We chitchat about nothing in particular and don't talk about our father again.
I get into a cab after saying goodbye and promise to meet up with him this weekend for their baby announcement get-together. It's just going to be them, me, and our mom. I'm there as a buffer to keep her being cordial and nice.
I promise that I'll be there, and I hope that my presence will be enough, but I'm not sure.
When I sit down in the back of the cab, suddenly the quietness washes over me.
I give the driver the address and he drops me off in front of my building. I haven't been to this apartment in some time.
The last time I was in New York my client was near the private airport in the Hamptons, so I stayed in a hotel there. Walking back into this place I feel a little bit lost, and incredibly lonely.
On the outside, I like to pretend that I'm a man made of stone, steel, something indestructible.
But it's only because I'm trying to keep all the dysfunction of my family so tightly within myself and I'm about to explode.
There's glass everywhere. Mom had insisted that I get this condo because the building was just being built and it was going to be an architectural marvel, now it just feels like an aquarium if there were another building anywhere in sight.
There's only one real wall in the whole apartment and that's when you walk in, everything else is glass.
It's a corner unit and I had to have specially installed blackout curtains just so I could sleep in the mornings. I'm above the cloud cover, deep within it, and it's generally the case almost every time I'm here. This building is too tall.
I don't like this place. I don't like the fact that it doesn't have room service and I don't like the empty refrigerator that has to stay empty because I'm never here long enough to fill it up.
It's not that I particularly love being catered to, it's more that it makes me feel like I have a place I belong. I can go down to the lobby, I can chitchat with the front staff. I can meet someone at a bar.
There's a gym and a pool and a restaurant downstairs. The restaurant is undergoing some renovations and hasn't been open for a while.
I plop down on the bed, dress clothes and all, and consider my options for the evening.
I could go out on the town, a club maybe, call a few friends, none who are probably available on such short notice, but at least I can give it a try.
Or I could go to Redemption.
Hmm, now there's an idea.
I feel my eyebrow rising, even considering the concept. The last time I was there, wasn't particularly great, but I'm tempted to give it another shot.
Jacqueline has been haunting me a little bit less and less as I've been trying to put her out of my mind.
What if I were to just go, get really drunk, and not really pay attention to who I meet in the dark?
22
Jacqueline
I see him from across the room. He walks in, broad shoulders, casual gray suit, no tie, starched white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, tan olive skin, looks good in the faint light.
He grabs a drink at the bar and then assesses the room. I'm sitting all the way in the corner, shrouded in darkness. He won't be able to see me unless he walks all the way over here.
My heart