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I hit answer right before the call could go to voicemail.
“Andrew.” My father’s deep voice came over the line. I steeled myself.
“What’s up?”Play it cool. Don’t show any weakness. My father treated every conversation like a negotiation, even among family.
“Will we be seeing you for the holidays?” He spoke stiffly and I nearly laughed. My father would rather die than say he wanted to see me for Christmas.
“I’ll be there on Christmas Eve,” I replied coolly. If only I had the guts to not show up at all.
“Your mother and I would like you to meet Portia Waters while you’re at home. Mr. And Mrs. Waters are close friends of our from the club.”
“I know who they are.” I always refused these dates with young debutantes from my parents’ circle. It was miserable for me and embarrassing for them when I didn’t agree to a second date. I would end up going though. My refusal was a fun game we played. I pretended I had agency and then my parents used family guilt to bully me into attending anyways.
He was silent. Waiting me out. As a 23-year old, I would have cracked. But now, with eight years of negotiating under my belt, I could be silent too.You don’t scare me.It was a lie and I knew it. He scared the shit out of me. He used emotions like a weapon. He’d never raised a hand against us but he knew how to manipulate better than a politician and family were not off limits.
He sighed.Ha. A small victory. “Andrew, I hate to do this to you, but being part of the family means family loyalty.” I nearly laughed. He did not hate to do this to me. Did he realize he sounded like an extra from the Sopranos? “If you can’t be respectful of your mother’s choices, then I have no choice but to cut you off.”
“As you have so often reminded me.” He threatened to cut me off at least once a month. The threat had lost its luster, especially considering that I never spent a dime of the money they gave me.
I shouldn’t have dangled such an obvious taunt in front of him, but I couldn’t help myself. I was so sick of their games. Sick of the reminders that they had provided every creature comfort in exchange for a perfect son to be paraded in front of their friends, molded into the scion of their business, but not loved.
Hell, their driver Patrick, who had picked me up on school breaks every year, knew more about my life as a college student than they had. If they’d bothered to ask they would have known I liked hiking and painting and reading, not numbers. That I’d been a crack squash player and okay rugby forward. Had they ever attended a game? Not on your life.
I could hear the anger in my father’s voice as he spoke. “You might want to reconsider your glib tone, Andrew. Don’t forget, the trust instrument provides that I can remove you as a beneficiary. At any time.” He was practically hissing with anger as he finished. “I’m prepared to do that if you keep up with this…insubordination. You’re making your mother very unhappy.” With that final pronouncement he hung up the phone and I had to restrain myself from throwing mine against the wall. He might as well have said “come to heel” to me. I was just another asset to them.
I texted Schwartz, who was probably happily ensconced in his apartment with his husband and Baby Liam.
Can I come over?
He responded immediately.
Of course. We’re sitting down to dinner in a bit.
Not an hour later I was knocking on the door of their brownstone, shifting from foot to foot in the frigid air.
Schwartz opened the door, his smiling face covered by his neat beard, his faded New York Giants t-shirt pulling over his slight beer belly. “Hey man.” He gave me a hug and I returned it, relaxing just a fraction.
I followed him into their living room, which was part mid-century modern oasis, part child’s hellscape. Matt gave me a smile from where he was setting out plates for dinner.
“Andrew, you want food? I made pasta.” Matt was an excellent chef and kept Schwartz pleasantly rounded and happy.
“Hell yes I do. I brought wine for you.”
“Bless you.” Schwartz mimed kissing my forehead and I laughed.
“Parenting is that hard, eh?” They’d only adopted Liam in the last six months and were still getting used to the routines. Liam was an adorable nine months old, but he seemed to constantly be trying to kill or maim himself and was definitely keeping Schwartz on his toes.
“Well, today he tried to pry the socket protector off and nearly succeeded, so I’d say I’ve earned a drink,” Matt joked and Schwartz gave him a commiserating look, his eyes warm.
Schwartz was a lucky guy. Matt worshipped the ground he walked on but still kept Schwartz from floating away. I’d never had that before. Every relationship I’d had since college had ended in disaster. At first I thought it was the awkwardness of my family, the coldness of their welcome. But then I started to think it was me. I was too driven, too busy, too focused. Sure, everyone wanted to be with someone who was successful, but at what cost? The coldness of the Markman family home didn’t grow loving partners, it grew business people. Schwartz was the exception. I was the rule.
As we dug into the food, Schwartz finally addressed my unplanned visit. “So what happened?” It was unlike me to see them on a week night, with my work schedule.
I swallowed a bite of ravioli before answering. “Our parents. That’s what.”
Schwartz groaned and Matt looked between us.
“Worse than usual?” Matt knew all about our father’s domineering attitude and our mother’s constant capitulation.
