Chapter Twenty-Three

Ben

I’m pretty sure my dad knows something’s up the minute I turn up for a surprise visit early Saturday afternoon. I quit coming home for weekends halfway through freshman year and don’t show my face unless commanded to do so, but I promised Hannah, so here I am.

We make it through a hideously awkward dinner in one piece. I almost wish Gav was here because at least he breaks the tension, usually by saying something stupid. But it’s just me and Dad, and I have to do this.

Hannah’s in Cleveland to see her dad, but there’s no way Dale will blow up at her the way my dad will blow up at me. But it’s not about what Dale does, it never has been. It’s about what’s in her head, and I know this is hard for her. But if she can do it, so can I.

Mom chatters on about the bitchy thing some lady at her gym did while she sips her wine and doesn’t eat, and Dad talks about the Bengals game last Saturday. Finally, Mom says she’s full—after barely breathing on her food—and excuses herself to make a phone call. Dad gets up to refill his whiskey from the bar against the dining room wall.

I wish I hadn’t eaten because I feel sick. But it’s now or never. Hannah’s handling it right now and so can I.

“Hey, Dad, I need to talk to you about something.”

He glances over his shoulder at me with an arched eyebrow— I’ve never willingly come to talk to him about anything before. But he replaces the stopper on the decanter and casually says, “Shoot.” Like we do this all the time.

“It’s about law school.”

His shoulders stiffen, and he straightens his spine. He’s already pissed off, and I haven’t even said anything.

“I take it you heard from Richard?”

I shouldn’t be surprised he already knows I made it in. Hell, Richard probably called him before he called me. It’s disgusting. If I were going to law school, I’d at least want to get in honestly, because I deserved it. Not like this, as some favor between college buddies. That little flare of anger gives me the fuel I need to keep going.

“I did. And while I appreciate Richard’s help, I can’t go to law school.”

Dad turns from the bar to face me. “Can’t?” he says quietly. Too quiet. There’s a dangerous energy about him that I hate.

“Won’t. It’s not what I want to do with my life, and I can’t keep pretending it is.”

“It’s not what you want to do,” he echoes back, still in that eerily quiet voice.

I swallow thickly and soldier on. I’m into it now. No going back. “No. Look, the head of the English Department at Arlington says I’m the best student he’s had in years. He wants me to stay on and get my master’s under him, and that—”

He doesn’t let me finish— His nostrils flare and eyes narrow as his rage boils over. His whiskey sloshes precipitously in his glass. “Listen, sport. The time for goofing around is over.”

I want to tell him that the work I’ve done for the past four years hardly counts as goofing around, but he won’t care. The things I’ve done that I’m proud of mean nothing to him.

“I’m not letting you waste any more time on a major that’ll leave you strapped for cash.”

“Dad, it’s not—”

“Ben, I’m gonna be straight.” He fixes me with his pale blue eyes, his thick blond eyebrows furrowed together over his nose. “If you don’t get your ass to law school next fall, you’re on your own. No money for school, no money for anything, the trust fund goes, and not a dime from this family ever again. Are we clear?”

My heart stops. Dad’s never approved of my major; I’ve always caught grief about it. But he’s never threatened to fucking cut me off. He’s talking about disowning me, and he absolutely means it. If I don’t go to law school, I’m penniless. My shitty salary from Prometheus won’t even cover my rent, never mind anything else.

He sips his whiskey calmly, watching me mull it over. I’ve read about people facing crossroads in their life, but I never thought I’d face one so stark myself. I could tell him to shove it and walk away, but what if I can’t make grad school happen on my own? Then I’ve blown my family apart for nothing, and I end up writing ad copy or something just as unfulfilling.

Or I could agree. I won’t be happy, but I’ll survive. I told Hannah over Christmas break that none of us are guaranteed happiness. Maybe it all comes down to that. What I’ve been doing up until now was a kid’s fantasy, but now it’s time to grow up.

Dad takes another sip of his drink. “So what’s it gonna be?”

I’m staring at the yawning black cavern of my future if I turn my back on this, and I don’t know if I have what it takes to get to the other side on my own.

“Ben, you’re a smart kid. You know what to do here,” he says, like he only wants what’s best for me. And maybe he does in his own twisted way. It’s about control with my dad, but it’s also about picking the right future, and that’s a no-brainer for him. Maybe it should be for me, too.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” I finally mutter.

“So you’re sending back that acceptance letter as soon as it shows up? Right?”

The acceptance letter arrived the day after Richard called. All I have to do is sign.

I swallow thickly and nod. “Right.”