So, the old manhadknown that Ian possessed an affinity for fancy restaurants, custom made clothes, and leggy blondes.He could still recover if he played to his father’s over-inflated ego.He forced a laugh, added a smile.“In a way, it’s not my fault.You taught me to enjoy the finer things in life.Same with Mom.She insists a sweater isn’t worthwhile unless it’s cashmere.Who can argue with that one?”Another laugh, a wider smile.“You and Mom taught me to expect a certain level of quality.”When his father continued to stare, Ian tossed out, “Do you really expect me to fly coach when I grew up in first class and on private jets?”
“I do when you refuse to understand what it takes to afford those luxuries.”A dark expression followed by, “You have no interest in a future that doesn’t involve my bank account.”
Not exactly true, but Ian wouldn’t say no to the handouts.Just because he didn’t want to join the monster-money-making machine his father had started, didn’t mean he planned to party and prowl for the rest of his life.Hedidhave goals, sort of—pursue his passion for cars and engines and see where it took him.Okay, that was vague, but it was a start.He’d figure out the rest once he finished college.
“Ian?Have you nothing to say?”
Oh, he had plenty to say, but that would involve dialing back years of mistakes and recrimination, and it would involve yelling—too much yelling.“Not really.”Why bother?They’d been having conversations like this for the past year, as though his father suddenly realized Ian had grown up and would graduate from college next year.As if he’d become more interesting…more valuable, like an asset or a commodity to be bought, sold, or traded.
His father settled back in his chair, no doubt contemplating the next part of this discussion, the one where he attempted to get buy-in from the prospect a.k.a.Ian regarding the importance of the trip.“So, about the trip to Magdalena…”
“Yeah, Magdalena, the place you refer to as the worst town in the world to get the best lesson in life?”
“Ididsay that, and it’s true.”A slow smile crept over the man’s face.Not a good sign, especially since he only smiled when he had the upper hand.
“I don’t need lessons in life, Dad.I’m learning on my own.Besides, what could I learn from people I haven’t seen since I was eleven?”He barely remembered the place other than the main street that was no bigger than the gift shop at the country club, and the kids who laughed at him because he wore polo shirts and tie shoes, instead of T-shirts and sneakers.Let them laugh.What did he care?“They’re not our kind of people.”Hillbillies who wouldn’t know a golf tee from a golf T-shirt.
“But that’s exactly why you need to go there, spend time with those people.See how your life will be if you don’t wake up and make better choices.”
“Is this about the cars?”He bet it was.“Just because I like to look under the hood and know the difference between a V-6 and a V-8 doesn’t mean that’s all I want to do.”
Distaste spread across his father’s face, leeched into his next words.“No son of mine is going to spend his life dressed in coveralls with grease under his fingernails.”The man had never been a fan of manual labor, insisted there were “people” for those sorts of jobs.
“I never said that’s what I wanted to do.”Did his father ever listen toanythinghe said?“Idoenjoy working on cars, figuring out how they run, and how to diagnose problems.But I’m equally interested in motors from a ceiling fan or an air purifying system.”For a minute, Ian forgot that his father had no interest in hearing what he wanted to do, and it was that lapse in judgment that led him to share too much.“I actually rebuilt a ’57 Chevy and figured out how to convert a 3-speed manual to a 5-speed automatic transmission.I even added ‘reverse’ to a Harley Davidson motorcycle.It’s all engineering, Dad.No matter what the motor is, it’s still engineering, andthat’swhat I want to do.”
“Engineering?”He spat out the word like it was coated with grease.“That’s not an option.”
“Of course it’s an option.It’s not like I’m telling you I want to take up creative writing or study philosophy.Engineering is a respectable career, and I’m good at it.”
“This company is your future.You should be learning aboutthatand the business involved in it.There’s unlimited potential, with opportunities and enormous financial freedom.But you still can’t see it, so I think it’s time you learned what your life could be like if you took a different path.”Pause and that damnable smile spread as he squashed all possibilities of Lisbon and time alone with Andrea.“You’re heading to Magdalena where you’ll spend time with your other relatives and gain a little perspective on life and choices.”
Three days later,Ian tossed his duffel bag into the rental car.So, this was what torture looked like.He’d wanted a BMW or an Audi, something that reminded him of home, but all the rental car company had was a compact two-door.It gets good mileage, and the price is reasonable.
Like he cared about mileage or price.Ian slid into the driver’s seat, started the car, and headed toward the misery that would be his home for the next fourteen days.Magdalena, New York, located in the Catskill Mountains, home to animals, humans, flora, and fauna.
Great.Who cared?
Why did his father think it was necessary to show him what down-on-your-luck and low-class meant?Ian had heard the references to the place where Stafford Finnegan grew up and finally escaped, but his old man usually saved that lecture for the times when he wanted to talk about moving forward, getting ahead, making the right choice.It was get out of that town or die a slow death,he’d said.You’ve always been coddled and protected, and you have no idea what I’m offering you.Now you’re going to see what else is waiting for you.
There’d been more arguments the past few days, but no matter how hard Ian tried to get out of this trip, it wasn’t happening.Desperation made him lash out in one final attempt.What if I don’t want any part of this investment empire?Do you really think this penance is going to change my mind?What if I just want to do my own thing?
His father’s response had been decibel-threatening.Taunting.It’s not your thing?Is money your thing?Are trips and fancy schools and five-star restaurants your thing?What do you think your friends and your girlfriends would say if they knew you lost access to the unlimited funds I provide for you?Do you think they’d still be interested in you?Do you think thatyouwould be their thing?He hadn’t given Ian time to respond when he blasted him with more accusations.You like convenience, and you like to do your own thing when it suits you.When it’s easy.You’re not interested in responsibility or duty and doing right by your family.
I want to follow my own path.
You want to play around with engines and bury your hands in grease.For what?So you can become a glorified mechanic?
Engineering is not a segue to being a mechanic.Though there were engines, transmissions, and all sorts of diagnostics tied into machines.And–
You never had to learn the value of money because it was always there for you.
Ian should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t.It’s always been easier for you to just hand out cash and credit cards than to show up, hasn’t it?That comment definitely ended any chance of getting out of the Magdalena trip.No amount of crying from his mother or apologies from Ian could change what was about to happen.Ian was heading to the small town where his father had been raised and had only visited three times since he left.
I’m doing this for you, Ian.Once you spend time in Magdalena, you’ll come back and realize my plans for your future aren’t such a bad idea.You can always tinker with your motors in your spare time.He’d laughed.But isn’t that why we have mechanics?
Ian had played that conversation over so many times, it gave him a headache to even think about it.If he had it to do over again, he wouldn’t have been so adamant and pompous—or was the word arrogant—about it all?So what if he was the only son, his father’s favorite, the one who didn’t have to work too hard for success?So what if he’d learned early on that having fun was a prerequisite to existence?
How did the people of Magdalena, New York, have fun?No idea, but he doubted that fun included companions with names like Andrea, Monique, or Cara.Speaking of his companions, they’d be lounging by a pool, sipping mojitos, bodies tanned and glistening, while he was in No-where-USA, counting the days until he could join them in the real world.
