words in a show of exaggerated impatience. “After everything Dad did to make it possible, he fucking worked himself to death for you, turning this down would be spitting on his grave.”
Until this moment I’d been trying to keep the conversation only mildly combative, but his words touch a very raw nerve. “That was really low.”
He shrugs, completely unbothered. “It’s true, Carter.”
I laugh again, but it’s bitter and devoid of humor. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it walked over and introduced itself, Jack.”
His eyes narrow, and he presses his lips into a thin line at my jab. He leans toward me, putting his face close to mine. “I lie to the public. I don’t lie to my family. You can try to deflect all you want. But it doesn’t change the truth of what I just said.” His words are dripping with disappointment that is exponentially more compelling and humbling than his anger.
A lump of sadness seasoned with shame and regret forms in my throat, replacing the barbed words I’d been ready to hurl at him a second ago. The only thing harder than accepting my father’s passing is knowing I’ll never have the chance to set right all the things wrong between us.
Unable to deny the accuracy of his aim, and unwilling to delve any deeper, I wave my white flag. “I know. But. I’m not ready. I don’t want to say yes if I can’t deliver. And right now I’m not sure I can.”
Pity softens his expression, and I drop my gaze to the table.
“You’ve spent your whole life working toward this moment. I’m just asking you to give yourself a chance to be happy. To let go of things you can’t change, people you can’t get back, and focus on the life you’ve got ahead of you.”
His phone buzzes. “My car’s here. I gotta go. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you when I get back. Hopefully this fancy rehab place will set me straight.”
He stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re straight. You just need to believe it.”
He throws a twenty down and strolls out of the restaurant.
I eat my pancakes and decide to go for a walk and lose myself in throng of early morning commuters on Tenth Avenue.
New York City is a glittering sea of ostentatious audacity and unapologetic grandiosity. It’s stuffed to the gills with marvels that cast even the most interesting human being into the shade.
Before my face was plastered on the huge billboards in Times Square, I could roam unnoticed and pretend I was just a normal person, while I watched the live action adventures play out on every corner of this city.
It’s one thing to watch from the sidelines. It’s another thing to be sidelined. And right now, that’s what it feels like. I walk back to my apartment, and for the first time I think rehab might be just what I need after all.
11
Beth
Speaking Out Loud
On my fifth birthday, my Aunt Jude gave me my first art kit. She told me it would help me see in the dark. I didn’t understand what she meant or the power of the gift she’d given me until the first time my father used the dark to punish me.
He sent me to my room and had our housekeeper remove everything he thought might amuse me. He didn’t know I liked to draw, so my art supplies were the only things left.
Desperate for an outlet for my anger, I felt around in the dark and found my kit. And as soon as my fingers curled around the cool wood, I realized the dark was my kindred spirit—terribly misunderstood and underutilized. It was a canvas that made the light in my mind brighter.
It’s what sustained me for the last ten years. I’ve drawn my future on the pages of my sketchpads and notebooks. I used to draw while I was waiting for a meeting to start, or while I ate lunch. And now, after the last remotely promising lead fizzled and my three-month long job search is officially a bust, I also draw when I should be working.
The last five years have been a charade and I was a fool not to see this coming. And even though I have no proof, I know he’s behind all of these rejections. No one wants to make an enemy out of him because he’s got a long memory and vindictive streak that knows no limit.
Not even when it comes to his own children. When you