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He seems to realize that at the same time that I do.
“Drake?”
He makes my name sound like a question, as if he can’t be sure if the skinny and brown child standing before him is the correct one.
That shouldn’t be funny to me, but it is.
“Hello.” I curse inwardly as soon the word is out of my mouth, embarrassed that I couldn’t think of anything smarter to say. If there is a protocol for meeting your father for the first time, I don’t know what it is.
“Your trip went well, I assume?”
“Yes, thank you.”
My bags are still in my hands. The driver handed them to me as I got out of the car instead of bringing them inside himself. Even he isn’t sure if I’m actually a guest here or something else. The driver’s gloves seemed particularly white and clean against the cracked and dusty leather of my travel case.
Even though my shoulders ache, I don’t put the luggage down. These bags are even older than I am. A bit of metal framing pokes through the fabric of one of them. I’m worried that it might scratch the glistening wood floor if I set it down.
“I am happy you made it.” The kind words don’t match the brusqueness of his tone.
“I’m happy to be here,” I reply, shifting from one foot to another to relieve the discomfort in my shoulders.
He doesn’t open his arms for a hug or make any move toward me. I immediately understand that we won’t have the type of relationship that involves that sort of thing.
Reminded of the tear-wet kiss my mother pressed to my cheek before I boarded the plane, part of me thinks that might be for the best.
He walks past me to the door. “Let me show you to your room.”
The first few days leave me awed.
The driver takes us into a city with beautiful buildings made of shiny glass and no trash in the streets. My father buys me new clothes, telling me he no longer wants to see me in anything I brought from home. I’m allowed to eat whatever I want, so gorge myself on the endless parade of rich foods his housekeeper prepares. Most nights, I go to bed with an achy stomach.
I do almost cry when my father presents me with my very own computer. There is one at school that I’m allowed to use, but I never thought that I would have one all to myself. Thin with a silver finish, it’s small enough to fit into a backpack and so light that I keep checking it’s still there.
Accepting the generous gift makes me feel the smallest amount of guilt that I get to experience all of this while Mama and Felicia are left at home. Felicia has always wanted a computer, but Mama always said we would never be able to afford one.
Guilt is the one of the few emotions that I’ve allowed myself to feel.
After a week, my father calls me into his office.
“Have you been having fun?” His tone makes it clear that he expects only one answer to that question.
I give an emphatic nod. We had gone to an amusement park earlier in the day. I rode the rollercoasters so many times that I nearly threw up the cotton candy he bought for me.
“Thank you so much for bringing me here, father.” I had settled on that because he had given me a sour look when I called him Dad. “I can’t wait to show Mama all the nice things you got for me.”
He smiles as if I’ve told a joke. “As my son, you have responsibilities to the Van Koch name. Do you know what that means?”
I nod, even though I don’t understand at all.
“Van Kochs attend the best schools and are afforded the most opportunities, but we have to earn it. Are you ready to earn it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then you understand that you will stay here with me for the foreseeable future. You won’t be going back to your mother.”
A painful feeling starts up in my chest. “I’m not going home?”
“A boy needs to be raised by his father. You must understand that, right?”
