Chapter Nineteen
Colton
“We need to meet with your new team.” My father walks into my office once again disturbing my good mood.
“Dad, we need to talk.” My tone is somber and serious.
“What is it Colt?” He takes a seat across from me. It seems his confrontational mood these past few days has passed or maybe he realizes he’s pushed me too hard and I want out. He knows me like the back of his hand so I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s option two.
“I don’t want to announce my candidacy next week.” I blow out a breath.
“I know,” he answers. Okay, that explains his change of tactic. He knows I want out.
“You know?” I still ask with surprise.
“Yes, Colt. You’ve been acting off all week. First brushing off Bachmaker’s niece then chasing that deaf girl. I got the message loud and clear. Only I think you’re making a big mistake,” he says, and his tone isn’t condescending or overpowering. He just sounds defeated. “You’re the right guy for the job, your ratings as governor are way higher than your opponent’s. If you run, you have a real chance at winning. If that’s not what you want then what can I do? I tried my best.” He blows out a heavy sigh. Only I know he isn’t letting me drop out of the race so easily. He has something up his sleeve. Just like he knows me like the back of his hand, I know him. My father doesn’t give up.
“Good. Thanks, Dad.” I smile, letting him believe that I think I’m off the hook. My father gets ready to stand up when I stop him. “Can you wait a minute? I wanted to ask you something.”
His dark brows furrow while he sits back in the chair giving me his full attention. “What is it?”
My father hates speaking about anything that has to do with the past which means any talk of the fire or my mother is off the table in a hard limit kind of way. “I dreamt about the fire last night,” I say, and it takes a moment for my words to process. I haven’t mentioned anything about the fire for at least a decade. The last time being when I started therapy and my therapist thought it was a good idea to ask Dad some questions. Only Dad had a way of always brushing my questions off without answering them.
“Really? I’m surprised you still think of it. It was a lifetime ago.” He moves to get up from his seat.
“I’m not finished. Wait a minute.” I stand from behind my desk and walk over to my father. “My mother was in my dream last night,” I say. Although I’m not sure, it was her. All our pictures were burnt in the fire, so I only guess she’s my mother by my very faded memory.
His jaw tightens. It usually does at the mention of her. I can’t blame him though. She took off and never looked back.
“I’m sorry that still bothers you, Colt.” He places his heavy hand on my shoulder. “Try to push it out of your thoughts.” He turns to leave.
“I’m not done speaking. I have some questions for you,” I persist and in my mind, one of those questions is why do you want to run out of here like the place is on fire the minute I bring it up?
His lips press together. “What do you want to know?”
“You told me Mom wasn’t home the night of the fire. So why would I dream about her being there? She was screaming in my dream. There was smoke everywhere. I tried to reach for the door, but it was hot.” I pause feeling queasy just remembering the dream. My chest feels tight at the thought of the smoke-filled room. The dream feels more like a memory. I lift my hand to remind my father of my burned skin. “It’s not only a dream, Father. The skin on my hand is burned. That must have happened.”
He turns away from me and stalks over to a brown leather armchair at the corner of the room then almost falls back into it. I’m a few steps behind him, and I take a seat in the brown leather armchair across from him.
“I have a right to know,” I say softly. The burden of not remembering or of only remembering tidbits has sat heavy on my shoulders most of my life.
My father looks at me softly, but I sense fear in his gaze.
“Your mom was home the night of the fire, Colt. She and I got into a fight, and she left. She didn’t look back. Is that what you wanted to hear?” His deep voice cracks with emotion. “I hated that for you, boy. I hated that she left and didn’t look back. I knew it would do bad things to your mind, so I did my best. I tried to fill any void you might feel, and you were such a bright young boy. You always had this special air about you, Colt. Even when you were five, I knew you were destined for great things and here you are. A survivor, a good man. The right man to run this great country.” My father’s voice trails off.
Of course, he would use this moment to sell me on the presidency.
“I thought you understood me. I don’t know what I want, Father. I just don’t know.” I feel more lost now than I did at the start of the conversation. My mom was there the night of the fire. She wanted me out of the house so I wouldn’t get hurt but why did she leave before the paramedics arrived and she knew I was okay? What kind of woman leaves her five-year-old son behind after such a traumatic night? I knew I wasn’t getting those answers today. Maybe never.
“It’s the weekend. Take some time to think about it. I know you’ll come to your senses.” My father patted my thigh, and with those last words he stood up and left my office.
***
“Sir.” Susan stood at my office door looking at me with a grim expression. I was pretty sure she overheard the conversation I had earlier in the day with my father. She knew about the fire, about my past. She asked me about the burn on my hand the first month she worked for me, and I had told her the truth. I didn’t have trust in women, but Susan was one of a kind.
“Come in.” I wave her in, and she takes the seat in front of my desk.
“May I be candid?” she asks. She always asked. She always made it clear when she was in my office for official governor business or a personal issue.
“Yes,” I smirk. “Although you may have to start charging me for being my therapist too.” It was a joke, but Susan pressed her lips together and gave me a scolding look.
“Sir, you’ve been happy these last few weeks,” she began, and I couldn’t disagree. Getting to know Evie had made me feel fulfilled on a level I didn’t know existed.
“Yes,” I confirm but wait to see where she was going with the conversation. Her talks always had a purpose or a lesson.
“We both know you are on the fence about running for the office of president. Your father is a good man,” she continues, even though I sensed she didn’t like him much. I guess this was Susan being politically correct so to speak. “But he wants you to run for selfish reasons,” she continues. We both know she is right. “Here’s the thing, Sir. There comes a time in our lives when we are at a crossroads. Something big is happening…we either take the road we’re used to because there is comfort in the familiar even though it may not be the best option for us or we take the road never traveled. It’s scary, new…but we may discover a whole new path on that road. A path that suits our lives much more than the comfort of the old way. Me…I chose to leave my husband. It wasn’t an easy choice. I had to work harder, worry for my boys on my own but at the end of the day, me and my boys are better off. Had I stayed, my boys would have witnessed very unhealthy things, it would have corrupted their little minds and maybe influenced them to similar behaviors. I put an end to that, and my boys are grown, stable men. Do you see what I’m saying, Sir?”
I tap my chin. Old habits are hard to break especially when those habits formed around a parent. Susan was right. I just didn’t know if I had it in me to take the road less traveled.
“I understand Susan. Thank you,” I smile warmly.
Susan gives me her thin, crooked smile the one that said, ‘I worry for this boy, are my words sinking in?’ I had no answers for Susan.
“Okay, you have yourself a goodnight, Sir,” and with those words, she left my office.
Food for thought.