Page 155 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
As if on cue, the Imperial March blasts from my phone.
I suck in my breath and answer. “Hi, Dad.”
“Archibald, Sybil says she’s received your proposal. Well done finishing so quickly,” he says with enough enthusiasm to shake off some of my nervousness about talking to him, until I realize what he’s said.
“Yeah, nah, Dad. It’s a more detailed outline than the first one I sent to you, but I’ve still got work to do. I need a bit more time, actually, to really perfect it. I’ve got a mountain of research, and I’m almost ready to put together a PowerPoint.” I match his enthusiasm while also bracing myself for any disappointment that may follow.
“Huh…I was hoping you’d be further along. I’ll take a look at what you’ve sent. If it looks good, you can finish the proposal when you get back.”
“Back where?” I ask, while trying to catch the thread I’ve lost in this conversation.
“Brisbane,” he says matter-of-factly. “Cynthia’s lawyers are putting pressure on me to finalize everything. I’m in New York right now, but I’ll have Sybil book you a flight for Monday. Tuesday at the latest. I’ll meet you there.”
I haven’t braced myself enough. His dismissiveness takes me out like the rogue wave that ended my surfing career.
“It hasn’t been two weeks. You said I had two weeks.” The excited eight-year-old is gone, but the one too eager to please is present and accounted for.
“That was before Cynthia’s lawyers started harassing me. This has all gone on long enough, Archibald. There are bigger stakes here than your business idea.”
“Dad…” I wince when I hear the pleading in my voice. “I’m not ready to come back yet. I want to finish this proposal. The market projections look really good and?—"
“—Archie! No more arguments. You’ve had years to figure this out, and I need you home.”
“But I am home! LA is home!” I take a breath and put my emotions in check. “I don’t want to go back to Brisbane, Dad. My life is here.”
A long silence follows. Long enough for me to tell myself that Dad will admire the fact I’m standing up for myself. Long enough for me to hope he’ll see I’m trying to make something of myself.
Long enough for me to tell myself a thousand other lies.
“Archibald, let me make this very clear. If you stay in LA, you do it with your own money and in your own place, not mine. I’m not going to support this childishness any longer.” Dad’s voice is dark and emotionless. A black hole.
“Then give me access to my trust fund, and you won’t have to support me financially. The money that’s mine. That I earned.” I clutch the phone so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“You know the terms of your trust. You agreed to them.” The flatness in his tone sucks the fight out of me. It’s impossible to resist his will. “If you choose to stay in LA, you choose to accept the consequences.”
In the pause that follows, my last bit of hope slips away. Dad’s the one in control. He’s always been the one in control and always will be.
“Do we understand each other?” He asks, not unkindly, but for the first time, I hear the manipulation in his voice. Theunderstanding he wants goes one direction, from me to him. There’s no chance of reciprocation.
“Yes, sir,” I say, softly.
“Sybil will be in touch with the arrangements,” he replies, assuming my understanding is in agreement.
My first thought after the line goes dead is that I wish Piper were here so I could tell her what’s happened. She knows what it’s like to believe you’re on Dad’s best side, only to have him pull the rug out from under you.
I reckon the only person who would be more surprised than I am by that thought is Piper.
For some reason, that brings a much-needed smile to my face.
Chapter 19
Archie
The smile quickly fades as I make my way to the back patio. By the time I sit facing the ocean, I’m numb, wondering what to do next. I don’t see any way around doing what Dad wants unless I’m willing to give up everything he provides and, possibly, what I’ve earned myself.
He holds all the cards, and he’s willing to cut me off, same as he did Frankie and Piper.
Even though I’m the loyal one.
