❝It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me...
And I'm feelin' good.❞
Chapter Twelve:
Power Play
(cont'd)
The evening was serene. The sky was an open canvas to the sun setting in the distance, with layers of pink and purple coating the horizon. Coupled with the quiet squawks of sea gulls in the distance and the gentle melody of a boat dancing on the tides, everything seemed almost picturesque. My father's boat docked in at the harbor was one of the best rendezvous points yet and I nearly brought myself to ask him why we had never frequented it before. The old man had questions of his own.
We were on our third round of drinks when my father finally asked what he'd been dying to all night.
"So, what are your plans Hans?"
If I had a nickel for every time he had asked me that question...well, let's just say I'd be a lot richer than I already was. It wasn't just a question of concern over his son's future anymore. It had become a necessity.
Although he had aged handsomely, the wrinkled corners of his eyes, lines on his forehead, growing white of his beard and neatly trimmed hair were all indications that the old man needed a break. But it was his eyes that spoke the most for his exhaustion; having transformed from their light, playful brown twinkles to a dull, muddy shade that demanded rest. Getting his only son to take over the company was the best way to go about doing that.
"You're twenty-eight now. You've learned enough of the industry, and been a part of the company long enough to know what we're all about. I think it's time."
Though dad spoke with purpose, his words were calculated and careful. I was like a ticking time-bomb around him. A wrong slip, and I would detonate, destroying every little bit of peace he was trying to create. I had done that every other time he attempted this discussion. This time, I decided not to prolong his fear and anxiety and be done with it.
"You're right," I said, trying not to smile a little too much as to give it all away. I set my glass of whiskey down on the table-top and stared straight at my father. "I'm ready."
The old man doubled back in surprise, with enough force to capsize the boat we were in. I had to repress the laugh that burst through me, biting down on my lip as I watched his saucer-wide eyes narrow into tiny slits of suspicion that this was my idea of a joke.
"You shitting me, son?"
"No. I'm not." The firmness with which I delivered that floored him.
"You mean," he stuttered, gulping down before continuing, "you're actually serious? You're ready to take over as CEO?"
I smirked. "Something along those lines, yes."
This wasn't the conversation that he had been rehearsing for. I saw, Jonathon Blythe who once prided himself in founding his own company and raising a corporate empire from the Earth, finally prepare himself to surrender his throne to his one and only son. The very first thing he did was reach straight for the bottle and take a big swig out of it, bringing it down hard on the round centre table with an echoing clunk.
"And to think I'd memorized a whole speech for this evening," he mumbled and then slumped back on the leather with an audible sigh of relief. "What made you change your mind Hans?"
I shrugged casually. "It feels right to do this now."
His eyes fixed on me as he brought a hand to his beard, stroking the ends of the fuzzy white in thought. "It's the girl, isn't it?"
The corners of my lips lifted. "Maybe."
Father hummed, a smile making its way onto his face as well. "She's changed you."
"I know she has."
I leaned forward on the couch and faced my father who sat across me on the other side. I didn't want to shy away from him when I said what I was about to say. This was a conversation I'd spent most my life avoiding, but one eye-opening truth from Tris had taught me that honesty could do wonders. Honesty is what I needed more of in my life.
"I love her, dad. Tris is the reason that all this is happening. She's the reason I'm trying."
"Is she also the reason you take so long to pick up my calls in the morning?"
I fought a smile. "Yes."
Dad chuckled and clasped his hands together. "I'm glad you've found someone you can trust, Hans." He licked his lips, and spoke in a lower, hurried tone. "I know I haven't been the best father to you. I've spent all these years regretting how much pain I've put you through because of my actions but-"
"It's not your fault." I stared at him, unable to ignore the visible shock that slapped his face at my words. Despite that, I gave him a meaningful smile and repeated, "It was never your fault. I grew up hating you. Believing you were the reason for everything was easier than acknowledging the truth that all this was just...unfortunate."
"But-"
"My mother loved you."
He softened at the mention of her – a flurry of emotions passing through his eyes.
"And I know you loved her too. I know it. I just didn't want to think that mom died for nothing, you know? Blaming it on you was easier."
He was visibly choking up in front of me and as touchy-feely as this entire conversation was, I couldn't handle a grown man crying in front of me especially when it was my father. Hell, I could barely make it through Tris' tears. What made me think I could handle this?
"Here," I said in a monotone manner, tossing him the box of tissues next to me. He took out a couple and dabbed at his eyes, grunting in that low fashion of his as if to try and gear himself up to be a man again. I watched as my father failed horribly and burst into open sobs in front of me.
Oh God, spare me.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, awfully nasal. Shuffling to my feet, I walked over and sat on the armrest of his couch, patting his back and trying not to make it obvious just how awkward I felt doing it.
"You've never seen your old man cry before, have you?"
"I've never seen a man cry before," I stated, my patting turning into thumping. Well, that wasn't entirely true. I've cried. A lot. But I wasn't going to tell anyone that.
"I know you're shocked by all this but could you try not to bawl like a baby when I tell you what I'm about to?"
He sniffed and peered up at me with puffy red eyes. That didn't make it easier but I said it anyway, unloading the final words of mushy truth off my chest.
"I'm done running, dad. I know what I'm going to do and I need your help. I need you on my side because you're the only family I've got left."
"Family," he repeated the word, smiling. It's the first time I'd ever called him that.
"Yes, family. I want to work on us. I know I'm years late and that time lost can't be gained but you're still my dad and...I want you in my life now."
By the time I finished, the man-child on the couch was positively beaming. He was like a kid given Christmas, only worse. The sight was a little unsettling, considering my father had never once grinned at me in such a manner but on the other hand...I could see now that he was happy. I wanted him to be happy.
"That Tris Henderson really is a miracle worker," dad chuckled and patted my leg before standing up and making his way over to the mini-bar. "I would love to meet her, Hans."
I could feel the slight bobs of the boat floating on the river grow steadier, almost like nature itself had been anticipating our resolution. My breath seeped out my mouth as I let out the tension that had built in my chest, smiling at my father's words.
"I think she would love that." Speaking of which...
My eyes flew to the clock on the right. It was nearing half past five. I had promised to buy dinner for us on the way home. Tris would kill me for being late. She needed food with two requirements; lots of it, and on time.
"I think I should get going now. Can't keep a lady waiting," I said, hinting at a joke which my dad chuckled at from the bar-stool in the corner where he was fixing himself another drink. "Don't overdo it with the drinks. Old men don't have good tolerance, last I checked."
"I'm not old," he countered, snipping me off with a frown. "I'm antique."
"Right."
I shrugged my coat on and turned to look at him, smiling. It was all a little weird. The smiling, the laughter, the tears. Weird, but good weird. The kind of weird that promised progression into something greater. I found myself enjoying the warmth spreading in my chest as my old man smiled back at me, and for the first time in years, I saw the smile reach his coal-brown eyes, lighting them up into a tender flame. With a final nod in his direction, I started to head toward the short spiral staircase that led up to the deck. I was midway up my ascent when I heard him call out to me.
"Hans?"
Pausing, I looked down at him, noticing that he was still smiling but there was something more to it now.
"What you said before about Anya," he paused, noticing how I visibly stiffened at the mention of my mother, "she didn't die for nothing, Hans."
My father's eyes were piercing into mine as he smiled at me, warmth lacing his words.
"Love doesn't count for nothing."
_____
Song: Feeling Good - Nina Simone
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