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His demeanor took a scholarly turn as he began to rattle off the pros and cons of having a Daddy.
"Having a Daddy is a lot like owning a pet tiger," he began, his voice holding a serious note that was betrayed by his gleaming eyes. "It's all cuddles and companionship until one day, you wake up to find he's chewed up your favorite pair of shoes."
My laughter filled the office, ringing loud amidst the clatter of keyboards in the distance. Mike simply smirked, pausing for dramatic effect before he continued.
"But on the flip side, it's like having your own personal superhero. A Daddy, my dear, is an emotional fortress, a rock to lean on when life's storms rage on. Emotional security is a big win," he declared, counting off on his fingers. "You've got someone who loves you, cares for you, always has your back. But there can be downsides too. You might feel a loss of autonomy, and you need to always remember that communication is the key!"
His words, while laced with humor, held a level of truth that resonated with me. He had managed to sum up my fears and hopes in a way that only Mike could.
Chapter 18: Hank
Seated in my office, the memories of Lina and I, our bodies entwined, lips locked in a fiery dance of passion as my fingers explored deep insider her, felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The image of her soft eyes, flushed cheeks, and that gentle look of uncertainty mirrored my confusion. The ghost of her touch still lingered on my skin, sending my heart into a rhythmic frenzy.
My mind was a whirlpool of questions, each one dragging me deeper into my introspection. How deep were these feelings I harbored for Lina? Was I on the brink of repeating the heartbreak I had experienced with Bianca?
In search of clarity, I turned once again to Patrick's journals. Each page, each line was a glimpse into my brother's soul. His words were imprints of wisdom, of regret, of love lost and found. As I read through the lines, I found my own reflection staring back at me – a man afraid of vulnerability, seeking solace behind fortress walls.
A memory of Patrick washed over me, as fresh and as poignant as the summer day it had occurred. We were lounging by the lakeside, the sun painting our world with hues of gold. Patrick, with his ever-present philosophical tone, had turned to me.
"Love, Hank," he began, "is a beautiful vulnerability. Don't shy away from it. Don't encase yourself within the confines of fear. The walls you build to protect yourself from pain also keep out the light of joy."
The sharp knock at my office door interrupted my cascade of thoughts. A familiar silhouette filled the doorway, Joe, his arms overflowing with a precarious tower of papers. His usual jovial demeanor was absent, replaced by an air of stern professionalism. As he offloaded the stack onto my desk, he exhaled a breath of relief.
"Your approval, Hank. When you have a moment," he said, tapping the stack of papers lightly. Absentmindedly, I grabbed a pen and skimmed through the ad copies, my signature grazing the dotted line.
In the midst of this mundane task, I found myself bringing up Patrick's journals. At the mention of his name, Joe straightened, his gaze piercing through me.
"Hank," he began, his voice stern yet weary, "I've noticed a slip in your work lately. You've been obsessing over your brother’s journals, trying to emulate his style, his philosophy. But it's taking a toll on your performance."
A knot tightened in my chest as his words echoed my own introspections. After Lina, he was the second person to point it out. Maybe it was true.
"You're right," I admitted, taking a deep breath. "I've been trying to bring Patrick back, to keep him alive through his work. I hoped that by executing his unfinished ideas, his legacy would live on."
"Patrick's legacy is already immortal," he stated, his gaze softening. "Through Apex Creations, through his groundbreaking work in this industry. His spirit lives on. But you're not him. And that's not a bad thing."
His words stung, but they held a profound truth.
"Clinging onto Patrick's work only prolongs your grief," Joe continued. "His passing has been hard on all of us. But remember what Patrick wrote in his last letter to you. Patrick didn't want you to sideline your personal life, chasing after professional success. He knew better than anyone the cost of such a choice. It's time for you to live your life, not just exist within Patrick's shadow."
With that, Joe left me alone with my thoughts. My gaze fell on the framed letter from Patrick on my desk. A single line stood out - "Don't make the same mistakes as I did."
I stared at it, my heart pulsating in my chest, the memory of Patrick's voice in my ears, soft and brimming with love, caution, regret. I closed my eyes, succumbing to the rush of memories.
In the depths of my mind, an image crystallized - a tender moment from a summer long past. I was young, maybe eight or nine. A gang of neighborhood bullies had cornered me, their words harsh and cruel. My love for painting and music, my sensitivity, had made me an easy target.
Then, like a ray of sunlight piercing the stormy clouds, Patrick had stepped in. Even at thirteen, he was tall, strong, an unyielding wall between me and the world. With a courage that belied his age, he'd faced them, standing up for me. His brave defiance had forced the bullies to retreat, leaving us alone.
In the aftermath, he'd turned to me, enveloping me in a comforting hug. His voice, usually so playful and boisterous, had taken on a gentler tone. "Remember, Hank," he'd whispered, "your sensitivity, your gentleness - they're not weaknesses. They're your strengths."
A fresh wave of emotion washed over me. Patrick's love, his faith in me, echoed in my heart, nudging me towards a path he'd wished me to walk.
Riding on this newfound resolve, I found myself heading towards Lina's office. As I stood at her doorway, I watched her animatedly discussing her vision for the new eco-friendly electric car ad with Mike.
I took a deep breath and stepped in. "Lina," I began, my voice steadier than I felt, "I think we need to approach this differently."
Both Lina and Mike turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and confusion.
"How about we merge our ideas?" I suggested, my gaze meeting Lina's. "We focus on the environmental awareness aspect but also highlight success. Imagine a successful man driving this sleek, modern car, and next to him, his wife. As they drive, we reveal the environmentally friendly features of the car through her lens."
