The man sitting across from me didn’t look like my father, although I hadn’t seen him in over ten years. He looked like he’d been freeze-dried, which made sense, considering how he’d lived his life. Everything that had ever been kind or soft or gentle had been carved out of that man decades ago, leaving nothing but a wizened shell.
“I heard about Novexia.” He still had a hint of a German accent, despite having lived in America since he was just a bit younger than me, climbing over people in his relentless pursuit ofsuccess.
I’d never define that word the way he did. We were nothing alike.
What had he been trying toprove?
“I still have a few contacts here,” he said.
“Right.”
He brought the cup to his lips, his hand wavering as he took a sip.
“You’ve made tough choices, Wilhelm,” he said. “You won’t get any thanks for it.”
“We have a clear path now.”
He set the cup down, aligning the handle to three o’clock, a habit of his.
“People confuse leadership with popularity,” he said. “You aren’t making that mistake.”
I didn’t answer. Wisdom from an emotionally illiterate husk wasn’t going to add anything to my life.
“I worried when you were younger,” he continued. “All those interests. The comic books. The tinkering.” He waved a hand, as if brushing crumbs from the table. “You were clever but unfocused. I thought you’d waste your talents, but you didn’t. You finally learned what it took to make things pay.”
Did he think this was what I wanted? That somehow, Istill needed to prove I’d earned my worth, that the shameful person he thought I was—the failure—had grown, become someone he could finally bestow his blessing on? His crushing disappointment felt better than whatever this was—this thin approval.
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m proud of you, Wilhelm.”
Proud of me. For being ruthless inbusiness.
For so many years, I’d wanted to hear that, but he’d never once uttered those words.
And now that he had, it felt like nothing.
Because I’d lostAndrea.
I stared at my coffee.
“You don’t actually know what I’ve done,” I said finally.
“Yes,” he said, “I do.”
His temples were hollowed, his skin thin. When he turned a certain way, I could see glimpses of myself.
“You focused on the numbers, Wilhelm,” he said. “You understood that sometimes, people must be sacrificed so something larger can survive. Most people don’t have the stomach for it. That’s the difference between boys and men.” He smiled smugly, like I’d proven something to him he’d known all along.
For a moment, I saw myself the way he did—the distance between who I meant to be, and who I’dbecome.
I reached for my wallet and placed it on the table.
“Wilhelm—” he said.
“It’s Liam.”
My coffee was still untouched. I reached to move the handle to three o’clock, then stopped. My hand hovered, and I withdrew it.
“I’ve got a meeting,” I said.
