Blake

Relaxing on the beach with Kayla has stirred up a whole lot of unresolved feelings from twenty years ago, back when I knew what I wanted in life. Ever since I was ten years old, I wanted to be a fishing guide or an action adventure photographer. Instead, I spend my entire week trapped between my office, conference rooms, and the courthouse, interviewing clients and dealing with an endless blizzard of paperwork. My oldest brother, James the fourth, had a real knack for numbers and lacked the personality that it takes to be an attorney. He’s happy as hell being buried in numbers and spreadsheets all day. I have no clue how he can do what he does either. My other brother, Collin, is a computer geek, obsessed with video games and coding from the time he was old enough to hold a keyboard. He went to work for Google right out of college and was one of their first software engineers, which was obviously a great move. My sister married a real estate developer and became a realtor, and they build and sell condominium complexes in Destin, Florida. In other words, by the time I was a sophomore in high school, it was just Mom, Dad, and me at home. In Dad’s mind, he had no choice but to double down on me. None of my older siblings were going to take over the family business, so he could no longer leave anything to chance.

My grandfather’s dying wish was for me to one day take over the firm that he had founded. I’ll never forget the day he told me as I stood there in his hospital room, watching him take his final breaths. Dad knew how much I loved him, and looking back, I have to wonder whether that was really my grandfather’s wish or if Dad had just used him to manipulate me. After all, grandfather barely recognized me the last few times I saw him. He knew how much I loved the outdoors and that I was obsessed with fishing and photography. I can’t imagine he would’ve really wanted me to be trapped in an office day after day.

“What’s going on with you?” Kayla asks, grabbing me from behind and swinging me around toward her as I reach for the patio door.

“What do you mean?” I ask, not immediately connecting the dots.

“I thought we were having a nice time reminiscing about the past, and now you admit that you’ve been thinking about firing me?” The fire blazes in those beautiful hazel eyes of hers.

“Come here. I want to show you something.” I open the door and motion for her go through ahead of me. “There’s some aluminum foil in the pantry. Why don’t you grab it and I’ll be right back?”

I head up the stairway and down the hall to the back of the house where the servant’s quarters are located. There’s a room back there that was our hangout when we were kids, and it has basically remained unchanged for the past two decades. Coming in here reaffirms the feelings I’m having about the old days, when my life made sense. Back when I could spend the day doing what I loved to do and was madly in love with my best friend, who wouldn’t even consider dating me. I grab an old photo album and tuck it under my arm before heading back down to the kitchen.

“This is some old Reynolds Wrap,” she says, looking at the box in amazement. “This has to be from the eighties or something.”

I laugh, looking at the box. “The only ones who ever used it were Grandpa and me. The last time I used it was several years ago, when I had that little breakdown. Here, I’ll take that. You sit down and look at this.” I hand her the photo album in exchange.

She gives me a confused look before pulling the book from my hand and taking a seat at the counter. I know she was confused by my statement, but things might be a little clearer by the time she reaches the end of the book.

Kayla

My head is still spinning from his not so subtle admission that he has been thinking about getting rid of me. Just an hour earlier, he had asked me if I was happy. He must have been hoping I would say no. That way, he could fire me with a clear conscience. He really infuriates me sometimes, the self-absorbed bastard. I dropped everything and came out here because I was worried about him. How could he even think about firing me?

I open the book, and the first page is a big picture of the two of us at his twelfth birthday party. That was the first time I was out here. We had such a good time. After that day, we would both beg our parents to let me come out here with them whenever it wasn’t a holiday weekend. I smile and turn the page. I get a little emotional upon seeing the huge sand castle we built on the beach. It was more like a sand mansion. I remember how much fun we had building a moat around it and filling it with water. I also remember how devastated we were the following weekend when we found it had been destroyed by a summer rain.

Page after page, the memories flood back into my life. Ever since I started working with him, we spend the majority of the week together, so I guess it has pacified me a bit. But looking through all of these pictures literally makes my heart ache for how much fun we had together in our youth. “I remember being annoyed that your mom was always taking pictures of us, but what a gift.”

“Is there anything you notice as you look through them?” he asks, coming up behind me and slipping his arm around me.

“We spent a lot of time out here and we were pretty awesome at building sand castles?” I ask, not really knowing what he meant.

“No,” he replies, with tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He begins to turn the pages and points to our mouths in the pictures. Page after page, picture after picture reveals nothing but toothy smiles. Not the fake smiles that kids so often do for pictures—those smiles were genuine. “Neither of us have smiled like that in years.”

Tears immediately spring from my eyes at the realization. “You’re right. We always had a good time when we were together. It didn’t really matter what we were doing.”

He steps back and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Look at us. A couple of saps. I honestly can’t remember the last time I got choked up like this.” He grabs the foil and rips off a couple of sheets. “Let’s cook some fish. I must be getting low blood sugar or something.”

“Showing emotion is part of being human,” I tease, shaking my head and wiping my own eyes. Why is it that guys feel like they have to be stone cold all the time? “A real man isn’t afraid to show a little emotion now and then.”

“I guess I’m finally becoming a real man then, huh?” he asks with a slight curl to his lips.

“Hey, do you remember this swimsuit?” I point to a picture of myself when I was a senior in high school. I was so tan that summer and spent most of my time in a little white bikini. “I remember thinking I was really hot in that.”

“You were really hot,” he replies, his grin broadening. “By that summer, I absolutely knew that I was in love with you. But that was the year you had a thing for Bradley Davis, remember? He was a sophomore at NYU.”

“Yes, I remember. He was pretty good looking back then,” I reply in a weak defense.

“Yeah, have you seen him now?” he laughs. “I don’t think I would even have a Facebook account if I had let myself go like that.” He seems to revel in the fact as he adds the carrots, lemon wedges, and butter to the foil packets and rolls them up. He looks like a natural in the kitchen. “I’m going to go put these on the grill. You keep looking through that book.” He gives me a wink on his way out the door.

As I continue to look through the book, I’m amazed by how many pictures there are of the two of us. Paul is in a few of them, but mostly, it’s just Blake and me. Whenever I have thought back to high school and college, I have always thought about how much time we spent together, but it’s kind of overwhelming to see it all laid out like this. We were basically inseparable.

Blake

Stoking up the wood fired grill, I take a moment to take in the cool evening air and the smell of the igniting wood. This is a million miles from a normal Monday night for me. I glance at my watch. Normally, I would be slaving away at my office, eating a meal that had been delivered from one of the dozen five-star restaurants in the area. Bringing one of my favorite meals into my office was normally the last thing Kayla would do for me before leaving for the evening. They are always delicious, but I rarely take the time to enjoy them because I’m so absorbed with casework. Like most of my life these days, I simply go through the motions. I set the temperature on the grill and set both foil packets on the top rack. In fifteen minutes, they will be grilled to perfection. I set a timer on my phone.

“You don’t have to fire me,” Kayla announces in a reflective voice as I return to the kitchen. She slides a piece of paper across the counter toward me.

“What’s this?” I reach out and stop it before it goes over the edge.

“My resignation.” Her voice cracks as she says it out loud. “I quit.”

More than a bit stunned, I pick up the piece of paper and read the hastily written resignation letter. Leave it to Kayla to make it as official as possible even though she only had a few minutes, a pen, and notepad.

Dear Mr. Blake Taylor,

I, Kayla Young, officially announce my resignation from Taylor, Hastings & Reed, effective immediately.

The past ten years have been very rewarding. I've enjoyed working for you and managing a very successful team dedicated to serving our clients to the best of our abilities. After looking through our memories, however, I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer be employed by the firm.

Thank you for the opportunities that you have provided me. I hope to see our relationship move in a new, more fulfilling direction. If I can be of any assistance during this transition, please don't hesitate to ask.

Sincerely,

Ms. Kayla Young

1/18/2017