Page 82 of Expecting an Argument
She let out a tense breath. “I don’t know who to be more pissed off at—her or you.”
I folded my arms across my chest and cut her a look. “Why would you be pissed off at Olivia? Did you learn nothing about her while snooping through her intimate thoughts? She didn’t want to be a Fontaine wife, she wanted to work.”
“Who said she wouldn’t work?” Mom retorted. “She’s a lawyer who took on one of our company’s biggest competitors and won. She would be a great asset for the family business!”
I scoffed. “Who are you to say what’s an asset for the family business?”
Mom froze and her voice dropped.“Excuseme?”
The intimidation act might have worked when I was a kid, but I was tired of dancing around her bullshit. “You heard me. Grandpa was the CEO of Fontaine Energy and now it’s Dad. All you ever did was go shopping and tear up a house that you refuse to even live in! You go on trips and attend parties while I’m answering emails and flying across the country any time Dad remembers I exist, so don’t you tell me what’s good for the family business when you haveneverhad to shoulder its burden.”
Mom’s eyes went glassy. “You have no idea what I did for this family.”
“You’re right, I don’t, because you refuse to tell me!” I stepped away from the crib and stood in front of her. “It’s been a decade, Mom, and you still won’t tell me what really happened with Dad.”
She shook her head. “And I won’t. I told you back then, and I’ll tell you again now, you aren’t ready to hear what happened.”
“And maybe I’m not,” I conceded, “but how can you ignore that not knowing hurts me.” Hot tears beaded in the corners of my eyes. “I still look for him everywhere. I’m still waiting for him to come back and give me the answers because you won’t.”
Her face stayed still, but silvery tears lined the bottom of her eyes. “Baby, I just need you to trust me a little while longer.”
I took a deep breath in, but still forced myself to let the truth out. “And I know that whatever happened, he hurt you too. That’s why I never pressure you to be with me for holidays anymore. And I enable your drinking, and say nothing about your smoking, and still try to recognize my mother under that frozen mask you had a doctor sculpt onto your face.”
Mom’s phone buzzed in her purse—more message notifications. Probably Aunt Liz beckoning her out for drinks.
I gestured to the still-vibrating purse. “But I can’t hide like you—not anymore. I might not get to be a husband, but I’m going to be a father and I’m going to be a CEO whenever Dad decides he’s done with the company like he decided he was done with us.”
Mom’s phone buzzed again and I gritted my teeth, biting back the urge to pick up the phone and launch it through the window. “So answer whoever is fucking texting you and go lose yourself in vodka or coke or whatever your chosen coping mechanism is for tonight.”
She swallowed. “They aren’t texts, they’re emails.”
I threw up my hands. “Whatever, Mom. Just go and let memopein peace.”
Mom slowly rose from the rocking chair and retrieved her purse. She pulled out her phone and read whatever was on her screen. She looked at me, then back at the screen, her frozen face unreadable.
When she turned to me, the air in the room thinned and weighed on my shoulders all at once.
“Baby,” Mom said quietly, “I will be on my deathbed before you find out the truth about your dad, maybe even after that, but…”
She pursed her lips and weighed her phone in her hand before blowing out a trembling breath. “As long as I’m alive, you don’t have to worry about becoming the CEO of Fontaine Energy.”
Her screen lit up as another notification came in. I looked from the screen back up to her face as she fought back tears. All the air instantly left my lungs as my mind took me back to high school graduation when I read that email from the CEO of Fontaine Energy.
“Someday you’ll understand, buddy.”
My throat trembled as I tried to gather the air to speak. When I got that message, I thought my father was teaching me a lesson about duty, responsibility, or a love greater than I could comprehend.
Instead, I came to understand how far a mother was willing to go for her child.
“Y-you…” I stammered, “…you’ve run the company this whole time, pretending to be him.”
Mom slipped her phone back into her purse. “It’s easier than you would think. None of the managers ask questions if their salaries are high enough. I can keep the ruse going for decades.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “Mom, no. I’m an adult now. You don’t have to—”
“Iwantto,” Mom said firmly. She gently placed her handon my cheek and smiled. “You have one shot at a family, baby. Focus everything on them…I’ll be happy to take care of the rest.”
She dropped her gaze and took in a quick breath. “And…you don’t have to keep looking for your father any more.”
