“Yeah, it’s a little too late for that,” I mumble. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
I can tell my dad wants to say more, probably make more excuses for her, but he knows I don’t want to hear it. We go over this every time we have lunch, and I’m not in the mood for it this time.
My mom has never been a big part of my life. She left when I was a kid, and I’ve never really seen her as a mom. More like a distant aunt that you see during the holidays. She and my dad were never compatible as a couple, and definitely not as parents. Right when I needed her the most, someone to actually validate and acknowledge my feelings, she left.
After that, Dad and I took care of each other. We grew up together in that way. He was still pretty young, balancing the business, his own father passing and then he had me to deal with. I wasn’t an easy kid to raise, but Dad did his best. More than my mom ever has in the last twenty years.
Dad blinks himself back to the moment, clearing his throat. “This next quarter for B&Co is going to be crucial, and busy. Busier than it has been in years. Though we know our plans forthe future of B&Co, it might push us out of the race with our competition.”
I nod quietly.
This isn’t exactly shocking news. B&Co have been relying on a sort of old-money, mid-century style of clothing that might not fit much into the modern world. Luxury brands are down at the minute, and B&Co are falling right into that trap. Even loyal customers aren’t spending their money on our luxury items; too worried about other expenses as inflation increases. We’re still fairly big with elite niche communities, but we’re not hitting targets as our competitors are, with the younger and modern market. There’s still a lot of work for us to do on that front. Work I’m willing to put in to help us get back on track.
I open my laptop immediately. “Do you want to go over a different strategy? I’m sure I can—”
“No, I’ll handle it.” My dad closes my laptop, shaking his head. “I’ll handle all of it.”
I pause, my gaze roaming from his hand on the top of my computer to his dark-green eyes. “What do you mean?”
He takes in a deep breath, running a shaky hand through his hair. My heart beats loud in my chest, thrashing against my ribs in an uncomfortable rhythm.
“I’m worried about you,” he says.
I play off the tightness in my throat with a forced laugh. “That’s never a good sign.”
My dad sighs. “I’m being serious. The semester just started, and I’m worried you’re too focused on B&Co. You spend most of your free time at the office, and balancing all of this with your degree isn’t a good idea, son.”
I blink at him. “I’m focused because that’s my job.”
He scratches his jaw, his eyes drifting away from mine. “When I say focused, I mean . . . obsessed.”
Something in my chest burns. Tightens. The corners of my vision go blurry, and I try to show my dad that his words don’t mean anything to me because they’re not true. They can’t be.
“Dad, that’s not what this is,” I say, my voice a lot stronger than I feel.
“This is more than a job to you, Evan. I can see that. But I don’t want that for you. Not at this age, and not right now with the way things are going.” My ears start to ring, and I can only understand what he says next by reading his lips. “I don’t want you to work at B&Co, Evan. For this semester, I want you to focus on college. Excel in your classes. Go to a party. Make friends. Just . . . be a kid for once.”
“I-I’m turning twenty-one in a couple of months,” I argue.
“Well, just be a . . . college kid, then.”
My neck starts to feel hot. Heat travels up the sides of my face and spills across my cheeks. “And I have friends, Dad.”
“You mean the two guys you live with that you hardly speak to?”
“Yes. I spent Christmas with them last year.”
“Reluctantly,” he tries to correct. “And you complained to me about it the second you got home.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not wrong.
I share a house off campus with two hockey players, Miles Davis and Xavier Dawson. I don’t mind living with them. They provide some much-needed comedic relief to my life when I come home from college. Everything is always messy. The oven is treated like it isn’t real and won’t causerealfires. The ground floor is home to house parties without my knowledge and the expensive handcrafted piano I bought is often abused by drunk college students.
Even if I don’t get involved much with their antics, I enjoy watching from the sidelines. They’re always trying to drag me to hockey games, and since I refused to attend any last year, Icouldn’t turn down the invite to spend Christmas with Miles’s girlfriend and her friends. What I didn’t know was that Miles’s girlfriend happens to be best friends with the one girl I try to avoid spending time with outside of class.
Miles and Xavier are different to the friends I had at school, and maybe one of these days I’ll get used to it. I just don’t know when or how. Making friends has never been a priority of mine and maybe it’s just not something I’m good at. I’ve always entered friendships by mistake. People somehow find my awkwardness endearing and think I need to be taken care of or shown the ropes on what real male friendship looks like. I’m sure it’s what Miles has been doing since we met, and I have no other choice but to go along with it. Sure, I can see how that might look like I need more friends but I’ve been doing just fine up until now.
My dad sighs deeply, scrubbing his hand against his jaw. “Look, Evan, I just want what’s best for you.”
