"How? By cooperating with her interview series? By giving her access to practices?" He takes a drink. "That's not handling it. That's rolling over."
"I'm showing her the truth, that we're not what she wrote about."
"The truth is irrelevant. Perception is what matters and right now, the perception is that my son is leading a toxic program." He leans forward. "Do you understand what that does to my reputation? To our family name?"
"This isn't about you?—"
"Everything you do reflects on me. That's how legacies work." His voice hardens. "You need to discredit her. Find holes in her reporting. Force a retraction."
"I'm not doing that."
"Why not? She attacked you publicly. You have every right to defend yourself."
"Because some of what she wrote was true and because attacking her would prove her point about toxic masculinity in athletics." I look around as my voice is louder than it should be.
He stares at me like I'm speaking another language. "You're defending her?"
"I'm being honest. Something you've never been comfortable with."
"Watch your tone?—"
"No. I'm done watching my tone. Done pretending. Done being the perfect son who never questions anything." I set down my drink. "You want to know why I'm cooperating with Lennox? Because she's asking the same questions I am. About how we treat people. About what it means to be a leader. About breaking cycles instead of perpetuating them."
"This is that psychology nonsense talking?—"
"It's not nonsense. It's me trying to be better than you."
The words hang in the air, and my father's expression goes cold. "Better than me."
"Yeah. Better than the guy who told his daughter to 'toughen up' when she was suicidal. Better than the guy who thinks vulnerability is weakness. Better than the guy who values reputation over actual people."
"I did what was necessary?—"
"You did what was easy. You avoided dealing with real problems by pretending they didn't exist. And you're still doing it." I stand. "I'm not you. I'm never going to be you and if that disappoints you, I don't care anymore."
I walk out before he can respond. My hands are shaking. I've never talked to my father like that. Never openly defied him. It feels terrifying and liberating in equal measure.
I still can’t believe I did that.
I'm halfway across campus when my phone rings. Maya.
"Please tell me you didn't meet with Dad." Her voice sounds worried.
"I met with him. It went badly."
"How badly?"
"I told him I'm trying to be better than him. Then I walked out."
She's quiet for a moment. "Holy shit, Carter."
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know. Ask me tomorrow." I stop walking. "He's going to call you. Try to manipulate you into taking his side. Don't answer."
"I never do. You know that." She pauses. "I'm proud of you. For standing up to him."
