Casey:did you always want to go to Harvard, or was it more of an assumption with your father that you just would?
Alex:both. my dad offered to pay for Harvard the same way he offers to pay for everything. Pretty much announcing it as a done deal. I liked the idea of having that thing in common with him. But it was ignorant of me to think it would change anything
I place my order at the register and sit at a table, completely absorbed.
Casey:What exactly did you want to change?
Alex:His desire to be included in my life. I know how desperate that sounds but it’s just the reality of how I felt. I wanted him to be there, and to think I wasa good son. I wanted him to sometimes choose my feelings over Linda’s.
Casey:How often do you see him?
Alex:once every few years, by necessity or fate. I ran into him and Linda one Christmas in new haven, when I was visiting my girlfriend at the time. He came to both of my graduations. We email sometimes, but I know more about him from the internet than his own mouth
Casey:that blows. He’s never tried to get to know you?
Alex:nope. As a kid, I held on to this idea of him as a real father for a lot longer than I should have, reaching out all the time when he clearly didn’t want to be contacted. It was honestly embarrassing on my part. I got the picture eventually.
Sometimes, Alex’s honesty is so disarming, it scares me. He doesn’t have walls anymore. He wants me to know him. I’m not sure what to do with that, because even though my emotions play out on my face whether I want them to or not, I do my best to keep everything inside.
My fingers are moving of their own accord in the Instagram search bar, typing Alex’s username, hitting his tagged photos, scrolling to the one that started all this. @harvardalumni: A photo of Alex in his graduation gown, his smile genuine. Robert is smiling, too, his arm thrown over his son’s shoulder.
How much of the distance he puts between himself and Alex is dictated by Linda, and how much of it comes from Robert alone? It feels wrong to blame her for anything, but it’s easier than thinking Robert truly doesn’t care. I can’t imagine Alex would have sought his dad’s attention and approval so desperately over the course ofhis life unless Robert was giving him reasons to. I heard one reason myself, just the other day:I’m proud of you, son.
I twirl my finger around my braid. Briefly, I consider my next text. I type it and hitSENDbefore I can chicken out on the invitation.
Casey:Are you doing anything Friday night?
Alex:Yes
I groan louder than I mean to, and a guy standing near me gives me the side-eye.
Seriously, what could Alex possibly have to do now? Another video game marathon with Freddy? Skype call with his cousins? I need downtime like I need rain to fall, or the egg sandwich from Thai Diner, or a solo day trip to the Rockaways with an audiobook and a D8 gummy: as a matter of absolute necessity.
I can’t imagine if the two of us were in a real relationship. It wouldneverwork out. Between his schedule and my aversion to strangers, we’d set off a fire alarm.
I wait Alex out, watching his type bubbles appear again.
Alex:I’ve got this birthday party for a girl I know. It’s themed. I have to wear a costume.
I blink, looking up.
Mybirthday is Friday.
But I never told Alex that, and I’m not having a themed birthday party. I was only planning to get dinner with Miriam and Brijesh. Sasha’s not even in town this weekend.
A scowl breaks across my face at the thought of Alex going to some other girl’s costume party onmybirthday. Then I scowl even harder, becausewhyam I so worked up about this? Wasn’t I just making internal argumentsagainstgetting worked up about this?
Casey:you should hire Benny to coordinate ur calendar. Maybe then you’d have a day off once every few months
Alex:I miss you too, simba
A scoff lurches out of me. I didn’t… That’s not what I—
Ugh!
I eat an embarrassed, petulant lunch, followed by an elevator ride to thirty-seven, because of course it’s aWednesdayand the BTH all-hands meeting is today. When Alex sees me sweep past him in the conference room, he winks at me. I shove down my weird feelings and try to focus on work for the next hour. But every time I look up, I catch him watching me with carefully concealed amusement, like he knows he got under my skin and considers it anotableachievement.
Well, screw him, and screw that girl. I hope her party theme is silly, and I hope Alex feels absolutely ridiculous.
