some insignificant, worthless, child. I’m a man, a very successful man.
The rages calms down, but the silence still begs for his voice to replay in my mind and my body still craves a drink. I won’t allow it. There’s no room in my head for his words, for him, and I shouldn’t let alcohol consume me like his words. I need to get out of this office for a few moments. I need fresh air. I get out of my chair with haste, pushing it backwards so hard that it hits the window with a reverberating thud.
I open the door and see that Kristin hasn’t returned yet, and I walk out of my office, shutting the door behind me. As I walk passed Kristin’s desk, the phone rings. I look down and see it’s my line. I pick up the receiver and push the button to answer the call.
“Patrick Matheson.”
“Um, hi, Mr. Matheson. It’s Emily Janes from Project Hope.”
“Hello, how can I help you?” All thoughts of my father vanish.
“I was calling to schedule a meeting with Kristin, but I guess I dialed you by accident?” she says, sounding embarrassed.
“No, you dialed the right number. I was by her desk and answered the phone.”
“Oh. Well, I was hoping to talk to you anyways.”
“Give me a few moments. Let me go into my office.”
“Okay.” Her reply is almost a whisper.
I put the call on hold and walk into my office, closing the door behind me. The silence has left the room, no longer toying with me.
“Ms. Janes?” I ask after picking up my phone.
“Yes.”
“What would you like to discuss?”
“Well, how serious were you about donating more money to the center?” she asks hesitantly.
“I don’t offer money just to be kind, Ms. Janes. I do it because I’m in a position that I’m able to help. So to answer your question, Yes, I was very serious.” That comes out a little harsh.
“Oh. I guess I’ll cut to the chase then. A grant we’ve received every year for the past five years has dried up. We are getting zero from it after being told we would receive a hundred thousand.” Oh, that’s all she needs
“So you need a hundred grand?”
“Yes.”
“Give me two hours and I’ll be over to discuss details.”
“You don’t have to do that. We can schedule a time.”
“I did. I’ll see you around three.”
“Ah, well. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Matheson.”
“Welcome, Ms. Janes.”
I hang up the phone and prepare to leave for the afternoon. Maybe this day will be better after all.
“K ristin?” I bark through the intercom, hoping she’s at her desk.
“Yes, I just got to my desk,” Kristin’s caring voice replies.
“Clear my schedule. I’m going to meet with Emily Janes at Project Hope at three.”
“Done. Will you be in this evening?”
“No, I’ll head home after my meeting.”
“Have a good night, Patrick. And please try to get some rest.”
“Will do. You too, Kristin.”
I pull out my briefcase, put all my working files in the matte black leather case, and close it with a click. I turn off the screen on my computer and before I head out the door, I glance at the clock again, and I have two hours to get to the southwest side of Reno.
The community center today looks completely different from the community center I was at on Friday when I pull into the parking lot. All the décor, extra tables and chairs, games, and canopy are gone, and in their place is bare ground with sparse grass.
I park off to the side of the building and wait a few moments before getting out. I’m almost an hour early—I hope she doesn’t mind. I check my email, trying to kill a few more minutes, but I run out of time consuming tasks so I turn off my car and head in the building.
My eyes take a few moments to adjust to the dimly lit hallway void of light from the bright sun. I walk into the main office and don’t see anyone that screams I’m the receptionist . A lady in her mid-forties looks up from the computer screen and smiles.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, I’m here to meet
The rages calms down, but the silence still begs for his voice to replay in my mind and my body still craves a drink. I won’t allow it. There’s no room in my head for his words, for him, and I shouldn’t let alcohol consume me like his words. I need to get out of this office for a few moments. I need fresh air. I get out of my chair with haste, pushing it backwards so hard that it hits the window with a reverberating thud.
I open the door and see that Kristin hasn’t returned yet, and I walk out of my office, shutting the door behind me. As I walk passed Kristin’s desk, the phone rings. I look down and see it’s my line. I pick up the receiver and push the button to answer the call.
“Patrick Matheson.”
“Um, hi, Mr. Matheson. It’s Emily Janes from Project Hope.”
“Hello, how can I help you?” All thoughts of my father vanish.
“I was calling to schedule a meeting with Kristin, but I guess I dialed you by accident?” she says, sounding embarrassed.
“No, you dialed the right number. I was by her desk and answered the phone.”
“Oh. Well, I was hoping to talk to you anyways.”
“Give me a few moments. Let me go into my office.”
“Okay.” Her reply is almost a whisper.
I put the call on hold and walk into my office, closing the door behind me. The silence has left the room, no longer toying with me.
“Ms. Janes?” I ask after picking up my phone.
“Yes.”
“What would you like to discuss?”
“Well, how serious were you about donating more money to the center?” she asks hesitantly.
“I don’t offer money just to be kind, Ms. Janes. I do it because I’m in a position that I’m able to help. So to answer your question, Yes, I was very serious.” That comes out a little harsh.
“Oh. I guess I’ll cut to the chase then. A grant we’ve received every year for the past five years has dried up. We are getting zero from it after being told we would receive a hundred thousand.” Oh, that’s all she needs
“So you need a hundred grand?”
“Yes.”
“Give me two hours and I’ll be over to discuss details.”
“You don’t have to do that. We can schedule a time.”
“I did. I’ll see you around three.”
“Ah, well. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Matheson.”
“Welcome, Ms. Janes.”
I hang up the phone and prepare to leave for the afternoon. Maybe this day will be better after all.
“K ristin?” I bark through the intercom, hoping she’s at her desk.
“Yes, I just got to my desk,” Kristin’s caring voice replies.
“Clear my schedule. I’m going to meet with Emily Janes at Project Hope at three.”
“Done. Will you be in this evening?”
“No, I’ll head home after my meeting.”
“Have a good night, Patrick. And please try to get some rest.”
“Will do. You too, Kristin.”
I pull out my briefcase, put all my working files in the matte black leather case, and close it with a click. I turn off the screen on my computer and before I head out the door, I glance at the clock again, and I have two hours to get to the southwest side of Reno.
The community center today looks completely different from the community center I was at on Friday when I pull into the parking lot. All the décor, extra tables and chairs, games, and canopy are gone, and in their place is bare ground with sparse grass.
I park off to the side of the building and wait a few moments before getting out. I’m almost an hour early—I hope she doesn’t mind. I check my email, trying to kill a few more minutes, but I run out of time consuming tasks so I turn off my car and head in the building.
My eyes take a few moments to adjust to the dimly lit hallway void of light from the bright sun. I walk into the main office and don’t see anyone that screams I’m the receptionist . A lady in her mid-forties looks up from the computer screen and smiles.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, I’m here to meet
Similar Books
