“Yeah. One of those.”
“I was calling because I talked to your sister, and she says there’s a position opening up at her office for a new accountant. I figured with your degree…”
This is hardly the first job opportunity he’s pitched to me, and I know it won’t be the last.
“Dad, I’m not interested. This is what I do now. This is my job.”
“I get that’s what you want, and maybe the money is okay right now… for a while, but this isn’t the sort of things you can create a life around. Self-employment isn’t easy. Think of taxes alone. You’re paying all that out of your pocket. And then you’ve got insurance on top of that, and rent, and a car…”
“I know all the expenses. I’ve been doing this for three years now.”
“I want to make sure you’re thinking about your future. It might look good for the time being, but what are you going to do when the market is full of guys on the internet with Photoshop competing for cheaper rates? You’re not going to have anything set aside for retirement. You’re not going to have any marketable skills outside of drawing…”
“I don’t draw, Dad.”
I draw a little, but not like comics and shit. He’s trying to make it sound like I’m sitting around playing with crayons all day.
“I get it, I get it.”
“No, you don’t. We have this conversation week after week, and I don’t want to have it tonight, okay?”
“Scott, I’m trying to help. Can’t you understand that?”
“I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not. You’re just frustrating me, and I’m already on a deadline, so I’ve got to get back to this.”
“Are you going to come to dinner this weekend?”
“Yes. I’ll be there.”
So you can assault me with more of this bullshit?
I hang up, and fuck if I don’t want to call it a night already. It’s shitty that such a trivial conversation can set me off.
Even outside of that call, Dad’s always in the back of my mind when I’m working, judging me, telling me that this isn’t what I should be doing with my life.
It sucks, but I have to admit, I’ve probably had it pretty easy compared to Mikey, who I’m actually nervous for. I can’t imagine what it must be like meeting with his sister to find out about what happened. Talk about a bitter pill to swallow.
I work some more until I hear the apartment door open.
Silence.
I hear rustling through the cabinets.
I should go out and talk to him. Even if he doesn’t want to chat about her, I feel like he needs someone to be there for him. I can always pretend to be heading into the kitchen for something anyway. It’s the least I can do, considering how I barked down his throat when he first got here.
I head out and see him digging through one of the cabinets. “Looking for something?”
“You guys got any liquor in this damn place?”
“I got it.” I head to the pantry, which he fixed the other day just like he said he would. I dig into the back for a bottle of Svedka. “You’re not going to head out on the town to pick up another easily excitable girl?”
His expression doesn’t change.
“Sorry. That was a joke. Obviously not a good one.”
“No. It was fine. Not fine, really. I got some bad news.”
“Yeah, I know.”
