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“Mom, did,” Kade said sitting in his chair. “Chase was always her favorite.”
“Oh please, spoiled younger brother,” Ash responded.
I sat back as the chaos of barbs and taunts ensued. Maybe my father was right. Maybe we wouldn’t be able to work together to keep the company thriving after he died. We couldn’t even have a civil conversation. How would we run a multi-billion-dollar empire?
2
Sara – Monday
Religious texts and self-help books all tout the idea that happiness comes to those who show gratitude and work their butts off. I’d done both and could confirm that it was a good plan, but not always full proof. I expressed gratitude for having parents and a home, and I worked hard to be a dutiful daughter. Unfortunately, my parents were never happy with my efforts, which made it difficult to feel grateful. How could I feel gratitude when all my dreams were always dismissed or thwarted?
My parents sheltered me until I felt like I was being suffocated. They were more rigid in their rules and conservative lifestyle than nearly all the other kids I went to school with. My peers got to watch TV, surf the Internet, and have cell phones. I never watched TV or went online until I went to college. That’s when I got my first cell phone, too, and it was a dumb phone: no Internet access or apps for me. I got my own computer then too, a restored ancient laptop that allowed me to write my papers, but that was about it.
I suspected most parents would have been happy to have their child earn a full scholarship to college. My parents said I was ungrateful, selfish and greedy by wanting something more in life. They said I should be happy to stay home, marry, and have babies as the Good Lord deemed appropriate for a woman. But I wanted out of their small world, and to them that was a sin.
But as smart and driven I thought I was, I’d squandered my opportunities and my scholarship. Perhaps in my subconscious, I believed my parents and thought I wasn’t worthy of having more in life. That could be why I let Glen’s dominating tendencies control my life until my grades slipped and I was on the verge of losing my scholarship. If I didn’t get it together, marrying Glen or going home would be my only two choices. I didn’t work hard to end up living under other people’s expectations of me.
Fortunately, Professor Fellows had a way I could get my studies back on track. I didn’t like him. He was always leering at me and other female students, but if he could help get me on the right path for my future, I’d endure his ogling.
I arrived at his office at the end of my sophomore year of college on time, ready to grab my dreams again. His office wasn’t impressive. Stacks of books cluttered the small space which reeked of stale coffee.
He rose from his desk as I entered. “Sara, come in.” He motioned for me to sit on the ratty leather loveseat. I’d thought he’d stay behind his desk or take the chair near the couch, but he sat next to me, putting his arm across the back of the couch behind me. Immediately I tensed up. Maybe he wasn’t just going to leer.
“I’m so glad you’re interested in this summer internship,” he said with a smile that on close inspection appeared a little wolfish. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, and extremely competitive.”
While I’d done very well the first year of college, the second year my grades had tanked as I let Glen take more control over my life. How could I earn a competitive internship with poor grades? I was getting nervous that perhaps I was going to be expected to deliver some sort of favor in return for his.
“I appreciate the opportunity, Professor Fellows.”
“I don’t arrange this type of internship for everyone,” he said.
I nodded. “I know my grades this last semester weren’t great.”
He laughed like what I said was an understatement. It probably was, although I did manage to pass all of my classes.
“No, but you have potential, Sara. You’re smart and a hard worker when you put your mind to it, which is why I arranged this. I’ve vouched for you and that means my reputation is on the line, so I’ll need to mentor you closely.” His arm moved from the back of the couch onto my shoulder.
I swallowed as the realization hit. It was a wonder that I was still a virgin with the number of men who tried to have me repay their kindness. A few, such as Professor Fellows, offered me a leg up in the world in exchange for sex. So far, I’d been successful at riding the dangerous edge of flirting without committing or following through. I hated it. I knew all the women’s magazines and self-help books frowned on anything except me slapping his face and walking away. But what choice did I have? I was a nineteen-year-old woman with few prospects and no support system. If I had to let men leer at me to have a chance, I could manage that. They could look, but couldn’t touch, I’d decided. Someday, when I was successful, then I’d slap them.
