Three
MICHAEL
Dad's demand that Professor Betty be fired caught me off guard. They're both staring at me but I'm fixed on Professor Betty’s eyes. She's panicking again. Just like when she asked me not to tell the principal.
I think it's safe to say she's terrified of losing her job. Except it seems to run kinda deep. Is there a story behind it?
“You're here, about damn time,” Dad snorts. “She's the one who gave you a damn F, right?”
“Dad, it was my fault…”
“No, son. It can never be your fault.” Dad squeezes my shoulder firmly. “It was her fault. Her bitchy ass wants to ruin your whole career and I'm not gonna sit around and watch that happen. She's getting fired.” He turns to the principal for affirmation.
Principal Charles looks at her and then at Dad. He's having a hard time obeying Dad this time. Because he obeys every time.
“Please, Mr. Bolton. Isn't there a nicer way to resolve this? At the end of the day, it's all just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? This little witch is trying to single-handedly ruin my son's life, and you think it's a damn misunderstanding?!”
Professor Betty is tongue-tied now. Something about Father's threat to have her fired stole all the feistiness in her. She's pale and jittery as ever.
“Mr. Bolton…” Principal Charles adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps, we can just reprimand her and make her apologize? Isn't firing her a little too far?”
“Do you wanna get fired instead?” Dad retorts, successfully silencing Principal Charles. “It's either your ass is gone or hers. You make the fucking pick, Charles.”
Dad never stops until he gets what he wants. And in a city like ours and with an influence like his, he always gets what he wants. You'd be crazy to go against him.
And I am crazy. For her. Which is why I'm considering it.
“You're gonna fire her ass and make sure she doesn't get hired in any college in the country…”
“I made inappropriate comments about her, Dad.” I blurt out, stopping him. He looks at me with angrily raised brows.
“What?” He asks coldly.
“I said nasty things to her. I made sexually inappropriate jokes. It was all my fault.” I tell him.
His jaw clenches and the lines in his temples tick. “So you're saying…you deserved an F?”
“Yes, Dad,” I say with a shocking boldness, holding his fiery gaze.
He's burning with anger. His gaze stays longer on me because he wants me to take back what I said. But I can't.
I'd rather face his wrath than deal with the harsh reality of Professor Betty getting fired.
“If…that is true, Mr. Bolton, then he did deserve an F.” Principal Charles says, earning Father's scowl. “But…” he adds hastily. “...but I'm sure we can reach an agreement with Professor Betty and have her punish him in a less severe manner.”
Dad is angrily speechless. He scowls at everyone in the room, then a bit longer at Professor Betty.
“This better be the last time you try to mess with my son.”
He leaves the office, slamming the door loudly shut.
I stay a bit longer, staring at Professor Betty. Her teeth are gritted hard and her hands are fisted. But she's not saying a word and she's trying not to look at me either. Even though it's kinda obvious that she knows I'm staring.
I turn and leave the office. Father's in the hallway. He sees me and resumes walking. I have no choice but to follow him. This is officially the end of the day for me.
His mistress-slash-P.A is trailing side by side with him. She's always like his shadow, being everywhere.
We get to the car and I slide into the passenger seat. Father takes a few seconds longer to kiss her goodbye. She knows better than to want to ride in the same car with me.
He's finally done with her ass and gets into the car. The driver turns on the ignition and we're driven home in silence.
The silence disappears once I get into the living room.
“Stop right there, young man.” Dad seethes.
I halt and slowly turn around. He's taking off his jacket and then his cufflinks.
“Do you mind explaining the meaning of that superheroic stunt you pulled back there?”
“It's nothing, Dad. I just didn't want her to get fired because of me…”
“Did you suddenly have amnesia? Because this isn't gonna be the first time a professor is losing his/her job because of you.”
“Maybe I don't want that anymore, Dad.”
“Bullshit!” He snaps. “You chose the wrong time to be a saint, son. Don't you dare! She gave you an F. You know what an F is gonna do to your dream of becoming the owner of my damn company!”
“My dream?” I utter slowly, narrowing my eyes at him. “Or yours?”
He takes a sharp breath. “It's the same thing…”
“No, Dad. It's not. It's not the same thing. You're the one imposing this whole CEO thing on me. And I played along because I was terrified of going against you. Hell, I'm terrified now. But you need to hear it. You need to know that I don't wholeheartedly share in this dream of yours.”
“Yes, you do, son! Don't try to pin this all on me. Ever since you were young, you've always admired the cars I make. The cars we import. You're obsessed with cars. You draw them. You've got pictures of them all over your room. You told endless stories about how you'll make one hell of a car yourself when you get older. You started this dream. I'm only trying to hold your hand through it!”
“Maybe I did. But so many things changed, Dad. And the whole pressure…I don't know. But maybe, I don't want that dream anymore…”
“You're nuts if you think I'm gonna let you give up when we're already close to fulfilling that dream. You're leaving college in a few months. This is the worst time to pull this stunt, Michael. Get your shit together.”
“I haven't had my shit together for years, Dad. But you failed to notice that.”
“You've been doing great. You've been a reckless but filial son. You've been great.”
“Have I really been?” I ask with a broken voice.
“Yes,” Father replies, without batting an eye. “And forgive me, son. But you never told me that you didn't want this dream anymore. I've pulled every damn string in the company to your favor. I've convinced every single major shareholder to vote for you as the next CEO once you arrive. I've created your spot, son. You can't do this now. You can't cry for help now.”
“If I'm being honest, Dad. I've been crying for too long but you weren't listening enough.”
“What?”
“All those times I threw reckless parties and smoked weed with my friends and crashed things. That was my cry for help. Every time I disobeyed a traffic light and had the authorities looking for me here, that was my damn cry for help. Every time I bullied a teacher in school, that was my cry for help. Every time my drunk ass drove down to the bus station in search of Mum, that was my cry for help!!”
Tears pour down my face like a damn waterfall. I hate how broken I am. Worse, I hate how he doesn't see it, when he's the one who broke me so badly.
“My ass stopped dreaming a long time ago, Dad. I stopped living too. I'm barely surviving. I'm always a step away from…cutting my damn wrist. But you don't care, do you?!”
I turn around and head to my room, slamming the door so damn hard.
My room's a mess. I step over the pile of clothes on the floor and dump my tired body on the bed. Sleeping remains my greatest escape.
Dad's footsteps getting closer to my door make me flutter my eyes open.
“I'll take it you're just exhausted because of what happened in school today. Get some rest. You'll be visiting the company tomorrow.”
God damnit!!!
“And for the record son, you're not a depressed or suicidal kid. You're just…wild. And it's okay to be wild. Just don't ruin yourself.” He adds before leaving.
Doesn't he have a heart? How much further is he gonna push me? How much further can I go without completely breaking down?