Page 21 of Suddenly Dating
Harry’s mother poured wine into her glass, which she’d placed beside her noon cocktail, and passed the bottle to Harry. “I know it’s the apartment,” she’d said again. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brightened by the alcohol. “I told you this would happen when you decided to quit your job. Itoldyou it would all go to hell, all that you’d worked for.”
Actually, what she’d said when Harry quit his job was that she and Dad had wanted him to become partner at his engineering firm and join them in country club memberships, fundraisers for important causes, and Upper East Side living. “That’s why we sent you to a good school,” she’d said then.
“Beth,” his dad said at the lunch table. “Don’t be so hard on him. Harry has accomplished a lot.”
His mother had snorted. “He’s doingmanual labor,Jack. That’s not what we raised our son to do. We raised him to be a great man. And Melissa wants a good life,” she’d said as she helped herself to a tiny spoonful of scalloped potatoes. “She deserves that.”
“I would give her a good life,” Harry had said defensively.
But his mother had rolled her eyes. “She is theperfectgirl for you, Harry, and if you can’t see that, there is no hope for you.”
“I know it’s hard for you, Mom. But I want something different than Lissa wants. And I’m selling the apartment to buy a crane.”
“Well,” his father had said as Dosia returned with a plate of fruits and cheeses, “maybe we should reconsider loaning him the money, Beth, so he doesn’t have to sell the apartment.”
“Oh, Jack.” His mother had sighed with the perpetual disappointment she held for Harry’s father. “You know that’s not possible. Harry would have been partner now if he’d stayed at Michaelson’s. And you want to buy him a crane?”
“He wants something different,” his father had said patiently. “He’s told us that more than once. It’s his life.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Harry had said. “The apartment is already sold.” He’d not been willing to have that argument again, not that day, not when he was feeling so down. He’d had the same argument with his mother many times, had told her how he hated the idea that he had to have some fancy title in order to gain her approval. That he was pursuing the vision of his life he’d had since he was a kid.
“But what he wants is not something that will put a decent roof over his head,” his mother had said, and had lifted her wine glass to her lips. “He’ll end up living in some awful part of Long Island.”
“You don’t know that,” Harry had said, bristling. “You know what, Mom? You wanted me to be partner. Well, I’m the sole partner in Westbrook Bridge Design and Construction. If that’s not good enough for you, I’m sorry.”
“And I’m sorry that we really can’t support that, Harry,” his mother had said in an incredibly patronizing tone. “We didn’t send you to Cornell University so you could build bridges.”
“What the hell did you think a degree in civil engineering was about?” he’d asked incredulously.
“I thought it was about apartnershipin a prestigious firm!”
Harry had looked helplessly to his father, but his father had lowered his gaze, his focus on his food. There had been no point in even pretending that his dad could help him out. Jack Westbrook, a robust, healthy, sixty-five-year-old man, was a complete slave to his wife. That’s because he’d married a woman with a lot of money and she’d controlled the purse strings all of their marriage. For all of Harry’s life, his dad had played second fiddle to his wife.
But what had really riled Harry was that neither of them could encourage the monumental effort he was making to become a self-made man. “Yeah, okay,” he’d said. He’d lost his appetite and his patience, and he was not going to sit there and take his mother’s disdain or his father’s impotence on top of losing Melissa. So he’d put aside his linen napkin and had stood up.
“Sit down, Harry,” his mother had said.
“No thanks, Mom. Have a good afternoon.” He’d started for the door.
“Wait—you’releaving?” Hazel exclaimed.
“Yeah, I’m leaving.”
“Harry, wait!” Hazel had clambered to her feet.
“For God’s sake, Harry, don’t run off in a snit,” his mother had said impatiently. “We’re only trying to help.”
“Help?”He’d angrily whirled back around. “You’re not helping, Mom, you never help! You want a title? I’ve got a title for you—”
“Don’t say it,” Hazel had whispered frantically as she’d reached him.
“Beth—”
“Don’t tell me to give him the money, Jack,” she’d snapped.
“I didn’t ask you for money!” Harry had roared. He’d made that mistake only once and he would never make that mistake again. What did they take him for? He’d pivoted about and strode for the door.
“Wait, wait,” Hazel had begged him, grabbing his arm as she squeezed out into the hall with him. “Jesus, will youwait?”
