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Father wants me to become Managing Director on his terms.
I do not have to wonder for long what his terms are because he tells me right after.
"I want you to fulfill certain obligations before doing so. As a Managing Director, I was married, and raising you before your grandfather made me the Managing Director that I am today. I don't think he would have trusted me enough to appoint me if I wasn’t married and raising you. I like to believe that it is a ritual that we'd all adhere to, simply because of the theory behind it."
I shake my head at my father.
"I am afraid I am not following."
"What I am trying to say is this: You cannot become a Managing Director until you have been married or in a very committed relationship that will lead to marriage."
I frown at my father's words.
"That's a very strange concept to adopt."
"It’s not. It is a tradition that we have to adhere to strictly."
"You have never told me this."
"Oh, I know," he answers good-naturedly. "I didn't see the need to, two years ago, not when you were still married to Amelia."
"So, I would have been made Managing Director without a hitch if I had still been married."
Father nods.
"What if I were to be incompetent but married?"
"No son of mine could ever be that…" Father glares hard at me.
I shake my head.
"Your traditional conditions are flawed. Just because I had gotten divorced, or unmarried doesn’t mean that I can’t do a great job as Managing Director."
"You're right," Father says, reasonably, I breathe out a sigh of relief. "You can, as a divorced man, still run the company. But that isn't going to work. You will have to marry or fall in love with someone you will eventually have to marry. There's no negotiating on that, Declan.”
I look at him and I’m shocked that he would still maintain his stance. He looks back at me, not the least bit apologetic, until the door is pushed open, and we both look away as Mother steps into the room with a takeaway bag in hand.
Father has always been an authoritarian, and it’s no surprise that even after all these years, that hasn't changed. I’d come here to check on him, but now, the news I’ve gotten about my dream position in the family company has greatly dampened my mood.
At this point, I cannot help but wonder if Father is punishing me for having decided to divorce Amelia. He’s always loved her dearly and has not made a secret of the fact.
"I’m hoping there's a cigarette in there," he says, eyeballing the bag as if he somehow has the power to see through it.
"Oh, I have fruit salad here. Remember what the doctor said about constipation?"
"Oh, fuck!" Father mutters.
Mother giggles as she settles on the side of the bed once more and brushes Father's hair away from his face with fondness.
"Would you like me to feed this to you, mister?"
"Not in the presence of our son. I am a grown man."
I hold back a chuckle, certain that my father wouldn't find my amusements funny. Mother chuckles and gets up after she's laid out the dish, moving again toward the door.
"I forgot to get silverware," she calls over her shoulder as she pushes the door open.
"She's a lot happier now," Father whispers when she is out the door. “I always hate to see her cry."
