“See.” My father’s fork hits his plate, hands in the air. “That’s what I’m talking about. She’s the one that told you to study art in college?”
My vision ping pongs around the room, searching for someone to make sense of this. The only person who I think would have an answer is staring down at his charred mushrooms.
Keller continues ranting. “Grant, son, I don’t know how she got you going down an art path, but one degree is enough. You need to focus on something closer to business, or marketing, or engineering. Like your brother.”
Locke looks up from his food, messes with his glasses, then looks back down.
I don’t even try to stop my eyes from rolling.
“I’m serious. Just because she,” Keller says, throwing a side eye to Lily as if she’s not there. Her hand grips mine under the table and anger surges through me. “Can waste two degrees on useless subjects, doesn’t mean you can.”
I don’t know where it’s coming from. The sudden need to coddle me like I’m his son who he’s been trying to set down one path my whole life, only to deter for another. His face is red, like he’s been fighting this subject tirelessly, when I can count the times we’ve discussed it on one hand.
They’re few and far between, but every time a reminder that he doesn’t know me at all.
“Liliana has a bachelor’s degree in psychology,” I tell him. “And the woman who convinced me to pursue art was my mother. Remember her?”
The room instantly falls into silence. Only the cars below can be heard but even that can’t distract from how heavy the air has become.
I wasn’t particularly excited to eat this overpriced, too-fancy dinner, but now everything tastes bitter. Even with Liliana rubbing my hand under the table.
Keller stares daggers at me. The lines of his face deepen while his chest rises and falls, growing quicker the longer I hold my ground. I didn’t say anything wrong, and he won’t scare me into thinking I did.
“Can we,” Billie says, breaking the awkward silence, “Go back to this being my birthday dinner, please?”
The anger raging through my body doesn’t seize, but it settles enough for guilt to seep in. My half-sister might be far from my favorite person, but it’s still her birthday. The point was to be courteous; not dump my daddy issues onto the table.
I let Keller have the win for our stare down and nod. “Yeah, sure. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
Keller tries to shoot his glare at her instead, but she’s already tucked her head back into her food when he tries.
The rest of dinner went uneventful, thankfully. Liliana stayed my constant through the awkward pauses and butlers coming by to ask about dishes we’ve never heard of before. Having her by my side in this is something I’ll never want to go without.Another reason to want her in my life for as long as she’ll have me.
When the table is cleared, she runs off to the bathroom, and I’m already planning the rest of the night. Wrapped in my bedsheets, laughing until late hours of the evening, thinking of what we’ll have for breakfast tomorrow-
“Son.” Keller’s voice grates my ears, and I take my time turning around to face him. “Let’s talk.”
My father’s living room is empty, Mina and Locke nowhere to be seen, and Billie occupying herself on the terrace outside. I’m silently wishing one of his employees would come back and bug us about something, anything, to get me out of this.
“About?” I want to tell him“Let’s not,”but I’ve spent too much energy on him for one day.
“Your future.’’
I take it back. I have enough energy for a surge of annoyance, my nails digging into my bicep, arms crossed against my chest.
“We talked about that enough for one night.”
“Son,” Keller repeats himself, throwing his hand on my shoulder. It itches where he connects and I try to subtly shove him off. “You need to get serious about your career plans.”
“I have career plans.” They’ve been the same for as long as I can remember. Illustrator, ideally for children’s books, maybe cartoons later, when I get a better grasp on drawing people. But becoming a children’s book illustrator is the thing I’ve wanted for most of my life.
Anyone who knows me, would know that.
“Real career plans.” He finally takes his hand off my shoulder and mirrors my stance. The gold buttons of his tuxedo reflect the ceiling’s light into my eyes, like it’s reminding me of how much money he holds. “I wanted to do this at the table, but the conversation ran away from me.” Keller strains what he mightconsider a smile, but it only makes me more uncomfortable. “I want you to start preparing to work for the company.”
An unnatural sound comes out of my throat.
