Page 63 of Breathing Under Water

As he heads out of the room, Hollis looks over at me and pulls a face. “Guess he’s growing a little more independent.”

Before I can answer, the sound of the garage opening fills the room. When the noise quiets, he adds, “Maybe I’m not as useful as I thought I’d be. If you send Leo off to one of those college programs, soon you won’t need me around at all.”

“We’ll always need you, Dad,” I say, because it seems like the right thing to say, even though it’s not the truth. When Phil finally revealed his business problems and how he’d turned to his father as a last resort, I’d spent several days convincing Phil of exactly the opposite: that we did not need Hollis, that in fact, much of what Hollis had taught Phil was unproductive, that Phil might actually blossom and come into his own in new ways without the heavy hand of his father on his shoulder. Each time I spoke these things aloud, I felt like I was talking about Leo too. If we want him to be ready to fly the coop in a couple of years, it’s time for us to let him make his own decisions, put himself out there, and take risks. I resolve on the spot that I’m going to tell Phil as much later.

“Berry!” Phil calls with excitement as he comes into the kitchen, but as soon as he sees his dad, his expression gets more guarded.

“Dad, hey.” Phil marches dutifully across the kitchen and reaches out to shake his father’s hand. This strikes me as bizarre every time it happens, the way they keep each other literally at arm’s length. Like I said, the man’s not a hugger.

“I’m just going to change out of my work clothes, and then I’ll start dinner.”

“Wait,” Hollis says, looking from Phil back to me. “What were you so excited to tell Berry when you walked in?”

Phil’s eyes meet mine, and I can see him thinking through something, reaching a decision as he turns back to his father.

“You know what, yeah. Let’s do this.”

“Son?” Hollis asks, clearly confused. I don’t know what’s happening either.

“I found a new job,” Phil says.

“Phil!” Hollis says as I yelp with joy. “Wonderful news.”

But Phil holds up a hand to shut us both down.

“It’s freelance. It doesn’t come with an office or an impressive title, and the pay, it’s not a salary. Just an hourly rate.”

“Then why are you taking it?” Hollis asks. “I’ll get my computer, make some more calls. We can do better. That’s not... No, you don’t need to do something like that. You deserve something with more prestige.” He starts walking toward his bag to find his laptop.

“Dad, no.” Phil’s voice rises in frustration. “I’m excited about this position. It’s what I want to do. You’ve got to stop pressuring me to do what you want—to be who you want. I’m not like you, Dad. I can’t keep living a life where my entire self-worth comes from the numbers in my bank account, like it always did for you. Not anymore. If you want to think I’m some kind of loser now, you go ahead, but I’m not going to think that about myself, and neither is Berry.”

“A loser?” Hollis balks. “I would never think you’re a loser. I just want what’s best for you. Why is it so wrong to want my son to succeed?” He staggers a little, like he can’t quite bear the weight of Phil’s accusations. I’m tempted to step in but don’t want to interrupt father and son.

“Then stop acting like my value begins and ends with my job title! My whole life, it’s what you’ve taught me!” Phil shouts back.

“I never said that. I wanted you to have opportunities. To be able to afford the things I knew you’d want.”

“You had no idea what I wanted!”

I see the color rising on Phil’s neck, and I know he’s only going to get more heated if he keeps going. I put a gentle handon his arm hoping to prevent him from saying something he’ll regret.

In the sudden silence, the air feels laden with so much hurt for both of them. I take pity on Hollis, whose face is nearly purple as he continues digesting Phil’s words.

“Look,” I tell him. “I think it’s great that Phil’s excited about the new gig. He and I are going to move forward from here. Maybe you two could agree to do the same?”

The men look at each other for a long moment, and finally, Hollis nods.

“Great.” I clap my hands once, hoping that part of the conversation is officially over. “Now tell us about the new job.” Then I give a little squeeze to Phil’s forearm, and he smiles down at me gratefully.

After Phil has explained that he’s found a position consulting for pharmaceutical companies—which, frankly, sounds perfect for him—and after Hollis has offered stilted congratulations to his son, I head upstairs.

Reaching the landing up top, I hear quiet music coming from Leo’s bedroom.

The door is half open, so I poke my head in and see Leo standing in front of his desk, watching something on his computer. He’s moving his arms in jerky motions, as if he’s imitating something on the screen, as if he’s trying to dance.

When he notices me, he pauses the video.

“What are you up to?” I ask casually, wondering if he’s back to thinking about prom again.