“You could be. Do you know what a weight it would lift off my shoulders to know you were happy and taken care of?”
“How can I be happy with something I don’t want?”
“You work at it. That’s what I’m telling you.” He stands and comes around the desk to perch on the edge in front of me. “What’s wrong with this picture?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“I’m askingyou,” he says. “What’s wrong with it? What haven’t I done for you? You don’t have to struggle like I did. I’ve kept you safe, and I’ve tried to make you happy. Rich is a nice, smart young man, and he’s on track to take over for me when I step down.”
“Because he’s good at what he does,” I say.
“No, Halston. Rich is a good kid. Hardworking. But he’s not a natural businessman. I can get him there, to a place where he’ll be the right man for my position. It’s an investment I’m willing to make. For you.”
He has it all figured out. I could walk out the door back to Rich, ask for a ring, stand by his side as he moves up in the company, raise his children. I have stability at my fingertips. And maybe with a little more effort, Icouldfall in love with him.
The room feels suddenly smaller. I close my eyes and think of Finn, of being comfortable in his white bedroom and his arms. “No.”
“No what?”
“You’re manipulating me. This is what you and Rich do.”
“If trying to give you a good life is wrong,” he raises his palms, “guilty.”
“A good life would bemylife. Not the one you decide for me.”
“Do you know what I would’ve given to have all this handed to me?” he asks. “Or to even get my good life back?”
I hear what he doesn’t say: the good lifeItook from him. I’ve never stopped feeling guilty for my role in my mom’s death, but it’s especially sharp now, when the anniversary of it is around the corner. When my dad and I are on opposite sides. I see the pain in his face. Sometimes I forget it’s there until something makes him genuinely smile or laugh. To others, it looks like stress or anger. Dad doesn’t show weakness. Except to me, because we’ve seen each other at our worst.
What do I do? Give him the peace and reassurance he wants so he can rest a little easier? Or fight this battle for myself and for a man I just met?
“I can’t stay on these drugs,” I say. “I just can’t. It’s not fair to ask me to just because you don’t want to deal with me. You don’t even know what I’m like without them.”
His face darkens. “Yes I do.”
“That wastenyears ago. Isn’t it possible I’ve changed? Matured? Are you the man you were ten years ago?”
“What do you fucking think?”
I sit back. My dad rarely curses at me. It makes me want to slink off to my room, especially because he’s right. Why would he be the same after losing the love of his life? “I’m sorry,” I say. “Of course you’re not.”
“If you stop your meds, then what? You’ll be fine? Do you honestly believe that?”
I open my mouth to argue. I’m tired of them doubting me and pointing out my shortcomings at every turn.Yes, I believe I’ll be fine.
Won’t I?
You’re troubled. You make bad decisions.
I’ve heard it since I was fifteen.
The truth is, I don’t know if it’s wrong. It could be right.
“I’ll worry about you more than I already do,” Dad says. “At least with Rich, I know someone else is looking out for you. With Christmas coming up, and—and the anniversary—if you’re off your treatment and alone . . . I don’t know that I can take it.”
My chest hurts. I can’t do this to him. His vulnerability is hard-earned, a privilege, and I can’t just turn a blind eye to it. But I can’t give myself up, either, or say goodbye to Finn knowing how good it is with him. “I’m stopping the drugs,” I say firmly. “It’s time.”
He sighs. “That alone is enough for you to handle. You don’t need a stressful breakup on top of that. Who knows? Maybe this will be the thing that changes your feelings about Rich.”
