role of a political
wife. Beautiful on the outside, with refined features and a toned body, she
looks manicured and polished from the top of her perfectly styled hair to the
tips of her red painted toenails. But there’s a flintiness around her eyes that
gives her away. On the inside, she’s hollow. The only thing she cares about is
wealth and influence. In that regard, she is the perfect complement to my
father in both looks and ambition.
I loathe everything about her.
My father was cheating on my mom with Gail. That he married
her a year after my mom’s death was the final insult. Initially, dear stepmama made some overtures to get to know me, but I
rebuffed every attempt with revulsion. I was relieved when she gave up and we
settled into treating each other with chilly indifference.
“Son! You’re here.” My father stands up and for a moment he
looks happy to see me. He moves toward me as if to embrace me, but stops short
when he reads my body language: don’t touch.
I tolerate his hugs when we are in public, but I won’t
pretend in private. My father and I never had the best relationship growing up,
but it’s devolved into barely veiled hostility on my part since my mom’s death.
“Senator.”
My father’s face remains stoic at the use of his title.
I nod at Gail courteously. “Good evening, Gail.”
“Hello Sean,” she responds languidly, looking bored.
“I’m glad you could come,” he says, taking a sip of his
whiskey.
“I’d hate for the voters to think there’s a rift in the
family. I wouldn’t want to bring down the poll numbers.”
My father winces, but I take no joy in the direct hit. I
seem to be unable to restrain myself from lashing out at him at every opportunity.
My childish compulsion to hurt him is counterproductive. My father’s priorities
are very clear and I’m at the bottom of his list, presuming I’m even on it. And
I frankly don’t care any more.
Gail gasps in outrage. “Sean! That’s uncalled for. Your
father—”
My father raises his hand to stop Gail’s incipient diatribe
and she falls silent. He responds evenly, “Well, it’s good to see you. Why
don’t we head in to dinner?”
I shrug and walk out of the room toward the dining room. The
table set for three people looks tiny in the huge space.
As soon as we sit down, a discreet server places a
beautifully plated salad in front of each of us and pours our wine. The private
chef my father hired would be appalled by the way I treat his food. I shovel it
into my mouth as quickly as possible, trying to get this monthly ritual over
with. The simple plate of rice and meat from this afternoon tasted like
ambrosia compared to this. Of course that had everything to do with the
company.
The server whisks my plate away as soon as I put down my
fork. My father is savoring his food and Gail picks out the pieces of blue
cheese, probably afraid a little fat would ruin her figure. I compare her to
the slender woman who attacked her food with gusto and barely restrain a sneer.
“So, how’s everything with work?”
“Everything is fine.” I answer as succinctly as possible,
knowing he has no interest in my job. My decision to join NYPD was a disappointment
to him. Even when I made detective, he still found the job beneath his notice.
“That’s good. Have you given any thought to attending
graduate school? Just name which university you’d like to attend and I can make
some calls.”
This is an old argument and I have no tolerance for it
today. “Just drop it! For the last time, I told you I’m perfectly happy working
for the NYPD. I don’t want to go to law school or business school. If you’re
ashamed to have a lowly cop as a son, then pretend you don’t have one.”
That he thinks I can’t get into a reputable graduate program
without his help illustrates how little confidence he has in me. That he thinks
I would let him buy my way into a program shows how little he knows me.
“Sean, I never said
wife. Beautiful on the outside, with refined features and a toned body, she
looks manicured and polished from the top of her perfectly styled hair to the
tips of her red painted toenails. But there’s a flintiness around her eyes that
gives her away. On the inside, she’s hollow. The only thing she cares about is
wealth and influence. In that regard, she is the perfect complement to my
father in both looks and ambition.
I loathe everything about her.
My father was cheating on my mom with Gail. That he married
her a year after my mom’s death was the final insult. Initially, dear stepmama made some overtures to get to know me, but I
rebuffed every attempt with revulsion. I was relieved when she gave up and we
settled into treating each other with chilly indifference.
“Son! You’re here.” My father stands up and for a moment he
looks happy to see me. He moves toward me as if to embrace me, but stops short
when he reads my body language: don’t touch.
I tolerate his hugs when we are in public, but I won’t
pretend in private. My father and I never had the best relationship growing up,
but it’s devolved into barely veiled hostility on my part since my mom’s death.
“Senator.”
My father’s face remains stoic at the use of his title.
I nod at Gail courteously. “Good evening, Gail.”
“Hello Sean,” she responds languidly, looking bored.
“I’m glad you could come,” he says, taking a sip of his
whiskey.
“I’d hate for the voters to think there’s a rift in the
family. I wouldn’t want to bring down the poll numbers.”
My father winces, but I take no joy in the direct hit. I
seem to be unable to restrain myself from lashing out at him at every opportunity.
My childish compulsion to hurt him is counterproductive. My father’s priorities
are very clear and I’m at the bottom of his list, presuming I’m even on it. And
I frankly don’t care any more.
Gail gasps in outrage. “Sean! That’s uncalled for. Your
father—”
My father raises his hand to stop Gail’s incipient diatribe
and she falls silent. He responds evenly, “Well, it’s good to see you. Why
don’t we head in to dinner?”
I shrug and walk out of the room toward the dining room. The
table set for three people looks tiny in the huge space.
As soon as we sit down, a discreet server places a
beautifully plated salad in front of each of us and pours our wine. The private
chef my father hired would be appalled by the way I treat his food. I shovel it
into my mouth as quickly as possible, trying to get this monthly ritual over
with. The simple plate of rice and meat from this afternoon tasted like
ambrosia compared to this. Of course that had everything to do with the
company.
The server whisks my plate away as soon as I put down my
fork. My father is savoring his food and Gail picks out the pieces of blue
cheese, probably afraid a little fat would ruin her figure. I compare her to
the slender woman who attacked her food with gusto and barely restrain a sneer.
“So, how’s everything with work?”
“Everything is fine.” I answer as succinctly as possible,
knowing he has no interest in my job. My decision to join NYPD was a disappointment
to him. Even when I made detective, he still found the job beneath his notice.
“That’s good. Have you given any thought to attending
graduate school? Just name which university you’d like to attend and I can make
some calls.”
This is an old argument and I have no tolerance for it
today. “Just drop it! For the last time, I told you I’m perfectly happy working
for the NYPD. I don’t want to go to law school or business school. If you’re
ashamed to have a lowly cop as a son, then pretend you don’t have one.”
That he thinks I can’t get into a reputable graduate program
without his help illustrates how little confidence he has in me. That he thinks
I would let him buy my way into a program shows how little he knows me.
“Sean, I never said
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