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He walked in. His father’s office was scary to his young mind. A big desk, large chairs, everything was in its place. Everything had its place. He’d fired their last maid after she’d moved some of his books around on the shelves.
His father leaned back against the desk, staring down at him. Jameson gulped, trying hard not to shift around nervously.
He knew that would make this worse.
“We give you every opportunity, don’t we, Jameson? You have so much when others have so little. And yet, you squander it. All we want is to make you the best you can be. Yet, you’d rather play in the mud with the help.”
“I’m s-sorry, Father.”
“Don’t stutter,” his father snapped.
He bit his lip, then stopped doing that.
Sometimes, it seemed like everything he did upset his father.
“All we want is for you to grow up to be something great. We’re trying to help you. Can’t you see that? And be a little grateful?”
“I’m sorry, Father. I’ll do better.”
His father sighed. “I’m not sure I believe that. So, as your father, it’s my job to help you. To that end, Carter will be leaving?—”
“What! No!”
The words burst out of him without thought. And he desperately wished them back as his father’s face tightened.
“You did this. All you had to do was finish up your schoolwork. But you let that boy influence you. That boy is nothing, and you are a St. Bede! You do not play in the mud!”
Jameson flinched as his father’s voice grew louder. A sniffle escaped him.
“It’s your fault his mother lost her job. Now, you might want to remember that the next time you think of disobeying me.”
Tears welled in his eyes.
His fault. Carter was gone. His only friend.
“Oh, and I’ve asked my secretary to start looking into boarding schools for you. I think it’s time that you learned how to look after yourself.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You may leave.”
Another sniffle left him as he walked through the door.
“And stop snivelling. It’s time you grew up. You’re seven now, boy.”
Jameson woke up with a gasp.
The memory wasn’t one of his worst. But for some reason, it was the one that returned time and again. Sometimes, he wondered where Carter was now.
If he even remembered him.
Jameson shook his head and climbed from the bed. He’d fallen into bed after getting home from his shift. He hadn’t even showered. Probably a good thing since now he was coated in sweat anyway.
His head thumped as he got out of bed and walked over to the curtains, pulling them back. It was late afternoon.
And he had nothing to do for the next four days.
He’d been forced to take some time off after working too many days in a row.
