Past

Dad always woke me up at seven o’clock on Saturday mornings. It was the day we went around and visited our customers. Samson came along sometimes, but not usually. He wasn’t expected to. He had baseball games on Saturdays that Grandpa Pete took him to, games that dad made me stop playing because he needed me to be his sidekick. I’d called myself a sidekick to help me get through the boring days, but really, I was more like an accessory. Even my thirteen-year-old-self knew that. By the time we pulled up to Monte Industries, it was ten in the morning. We’d already gone to three other manufacturing companies before this stop. All three had been the same, husband talking shop with Dad while I sat there silently pretending to pay attention and the wife offered me cookies and milk and finally a juice box. By the time we pulled up at Monte Industries, I’d had three juice boxes and thought if I saw one more cookie I’d puke. I wasn’t much of a sweets kid.

Mr. Monte smiled as he said hi to Dad and smiled wider when he saw me in tow.

“Little working man,” he’d said. “I need to put Freddie to work on Saturday mornings.”

“You gotta start them young,” Dad said with a gleam in his eyes that made me warm inside. Maybe he was proud of me after all. I mean, I did come along while all the other kids my age were obviously sleeping or doing fun things.

“I heard you’re going to start rowing for the school team soon,” Mr. Monte said. “Will you still have time to come by on Saturdays?”

“He’ll have to make up his work whenever he’s free,” Dad answered, patting my head. “He’s next in line to take over the company so he needs to learn the ropes.”

We walked inside and sat in Mr. Monte’s upstairs office, which overlooked the employees downstairs. After ten minutes of listening to them talk about my mom and Mrs. Monte and how important family was in all of this, I tuned them out and looked out the window. Everybody was either sewing, stapling or rolling fabric rolls in plastic to keep it safe. The door opened suddenly and a few people stopped to wave at Tessa, who walked in wearing her ballet outfit – pink tights and a pink leotard. She wore converse sneakers on her feet, but was holding a pink bag that I knew held her pointe shoes. I looked over my shoulder.

“May I use the restroom?”

“Of course,” Mr. Monte said. Dad shot me a warning look that made me shiver, but I walked out of the office nonetheless. Dad hated when I interrupted conversations or asked for anything, including the restroom. I ran downstairs and scanned the room for Tessa. I found her sitting in front of the coffee machine in the break room. Her head snapped up when I walked into the room. My heart beat a little faster.

“Working again?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I exhaled and sat in the chair across from her. “So boring.”

“Why doesn’t Sam do it?”

“Because he’s not expected to. He’s the baby of the family, not the first born.”

“Hm.” She gave me a sad, but understanding smile, probably because she herself was the baby of her family. “At least you know what you’re going to be when you grow up.”

“Don’t you?” I waved a hand around.

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I hope. I’m not the first born.” Her eyes twinkled when she said that. She was the prettiest girl, especially when she smiled like that. “What would you be when you grow up, if you could be anything?”

I shrugged. “The president of Hawthorne Industries.”

“That’s it?” She laughed. “That’s what you’re going to do anyway. I mean if you didn’t have to do that.”

“Same answer.”

Her eyes searched mine for a long moment, as if she were waiting for me to change my mind. Tessa’s parents encouraged growth and being whatever you wanted to be. I’d been waking up early on Saturdays since I was five years old. Hawthorne Industries was the only thing I knew and the only thing I was expected to do with my life. I fully accepted it. Tessa kept talking about her day. She was dropped off here after ballet because she wanted her dad to take her to the mall to buy presents for her brother and sister. After listening to her for a while, I said goodbye went back upstairs, knowing that if I was gone too long there would be hell to pay later.

In the car, Dad reprimanded me for taking too long in the bathroom. “It’s not responsible. You need to learn the difference between work and fun.”

“I do know the difference. That’s why I’m not hanging out with my friends and I’m here instead.”

That earned me a hard look and a pop on the mouth. “You don’t bleed,” he said. “Remember that. You’re not like those other kids. You have things to do with your time and your life.”

I held my hand to my lips. He said I couldn’t bleed, but the thick liquid in my mouth said otherwise. I held back the hot, frustrated tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes, knowing that would only earn me more than just a pop in the mouth. Crying was a sign of weakness. I’d learned that from watching Mom trying to buy his affection through tears. The only thing it did was ensue a screaming fit from him that included name calling and belittling. Just the other night during dinner, Sam brought up a bad grade, and Dad yelled and told him he was stupid and stupidity didn’t belong in this family. I’d held my brother’s hand under the table to let him know I was with him no matter what, but I didn’t stand up for him. That was three nights ago and I was still kicking myself for not standing up to my father. He made it difficult, though. He was quick to remind us how insignificant we were and I didn’t want that reminder. Not when I felt it every night when I was in my room trying to find sleep and my parents screamed about what a mistake we were.