AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I was. I tried, I–” I did what my fatherdid. That wasmyversion of a father figure. It’s all Iknew. Nate and I are more similar than he’d like to believe.
“But I fucking learned. I found things and people I love and–” His anger breaks for a second, and there’s a flash of pain in his eyes.
Sweet Nate…Once he got to be a certain age, he stopped wanting hugs, would push me away if I tried to give him a pat on the back. The anger has been building for a while.
Still, though, all I want to do right now is hug my son. I want to make him feel better any way I can.
Even if I’m the cause of all his hurt.
“And yet, you want me to be like you.”
I shouldn’t ask. But I need to know. “And what would that mean? Being like me?”
“Cold and unfeeling.” He puts his hand to his chest, rubbing like it’s a muscle that aches. “I don’t want that.”
I don’t either, I think, but can’t say it aloud. If I tried to speak, it probably would come out all garbled with pain.
Nate’s eyes fall to the ground in front of my feet. “There’s nothing for me to reconsider.”
He turns on his heel and heads back to the group of guys, calling something out to which his friends laugh.
I doubt he said anything bad about me. In fact, I doubt he said anything about me at all.
That’s almost worse.
I have to get out of here before I break down. It seldom happens, so when it does, I need to be prepared for the worst.
I rush back to my Range Rover, lock myself inside, and grip the wheel so tight for a second I fear my knuckles might break.
With a loud, unending roar, I allow the boiling, painful fury out of my body.
And then I cry.
I don’t like crying. It hurts me. Not just my soul. My body, my heart. Reveals tensions in my neck and jaw I didn’t know existed from grinning and bearing it in my day-to-day life.
Maybe I’m not capable of changing. Maybe Nate is right to keep his distance.
How can I trade forty-nine years of coldness for warmth in the blink of an eye?
14
SONIA
There’ssomething wrong with Edwin.
When I first got to know him, I thought he was quite unreadable. This is just further proof I’ve spent too much time watching him, thinking about him, pining for him.
Because now I can pinpoint every micro-expression of tension in his ever-present stern expression. The way he holds his jaw, in the pinch of his forehead.
I should be going through the procedure documents for our upcoming construction on the wine cellar.
The club might have to close for a day or two here and there to avoid members having to deal with the noise and the dust. This will be unprecedented for most of them, so I need to make sure the dissemination of information is clear and far-reaching.
However, it’s hard to be focused on work when Edwin is roving the lobby, talking with our newest member Marty Villanueva.
Whenever I’ve seen the two together, Edwin is a laugh a minute. Right now, though, he’s got his lips forced into a perpetual smile. I’m not even sure he’s listening.
Something is troubling him. And as much as I shouldn’t, I still want to try and fix this. Need to. If I can alleviate his burden, then I will.
