year from now I can read it back to you.”
“Go ahead. I said, ‘It’s a nice firm. One of the best.’”
John took notes and said, “You’re gonna hate this firm and its lawyers and cases, and you’ll probably even hate the secretaries and the other rookie associates. You’re gonna hate the grind, the routine, the sheer drudgery of all the mindless crap they dump on you. Response?”
“I disagree.”
“Great,” John said, still writing. Then he pulled on the cigarette and blew out an impressive cloud of smoke. He put down the pen. “I thought you wanted to try something different and help people in the process. Did I not hear these words from you just a few weeks ago?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Well, change it back. It’s not too late.”
“No.”
“But why? There must be a reason.”
“I just don’t want to spend three years in rural Virginia trying to learn enough Spanish so I can listen to the problems of people who are here illegally in the first place.”
“I’m sorry, but that sounds like a great way to spend the next three years. I don’t buy it. Give me another reason.” With that, John shoved his leather swivel chair back and jumped to his feet. Kyle had seen this a million times. His father preferred to pace and toss his hands about when he was agitated and firing questions. It was an old habit from the courtroom, and it was not unexpected.
“I’d like to make some money.”
“For what? To buy things, some new toys? You won’t have the time to play with them.”
“I plan to save—”
“Of course you will. Living in Manhattan is so cheap you’ll save a fortune.” He was walking in front of his Ego Wall, framed certificates and photos almost to the ceiling. “I don’t buy it, and I don’t like it.” His cheeks were turning colors. The Scottish temper was warming up.
Speak softly, Kyle reminded himself. A sharp word or two would make things much worse. He would survive this little clash, as he had survived the others, and one day soon all the harsh words would be over and Kyle would be off to New York.
“It’s all about the money, isn’t it, Kyle?” John said. “You were raised better.”
“I’m not here to be insulted, Dad. I’ve made my decision. I ask you to respect it. A lot of fathers would be thrilled with such a job.”
John McAvoy stopped pacing and stopped smoking,and he looked across his office at the handsome face of his only son, a twenty-five-year-old who was quite mature and unbelievably bright, and he decided to back off. The decision was made. He’d said enough. Any more and he might say too much. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. It’s all you. You’re smart enough to know what you want, but I’m your father and I’ll have some opinions about your next big decision, and the next. That’s what I’m here for. If you screw up again, I’ll damned sure let you know it.”
“I’m not screwing up, Dad.”
“I will not bicker.”
“Can we go to dinner? I’m starving.”
“I need a drink.”
_________
They rode together to Victor’s Italian Restaurant, John’s Friday night ritual for as long as Kyle could remember. John had his usual end-of-the-week martini. Kyle had his standard drink—club soda with a twist of lime. They ordered pasta with meatballs, and after the second martini John began to mellow. Having his son at the largest and most prestigious law firm in the country did have a nice ring to it.
But he was still puzzled by the abrupt change in plans.
If you only knew, Kyle kept saying to himself. And he ached because he couldn’t tell his father the truth.
9
_________
K yle was relieved when his mother did not answer the phone. He waited until almost eleven on Saturday morning before calling. He left a pleasant little message about popping in for a quick hello as he was passing through York for some vague reason. She was either asleep or medicated, or if it was a good day, she was in her studio thoroughly
“Go ahead. I said, ‘It’s a nice firm. One of the best.’”
John took notes and said, “You’re gonna hate this firm and its lawyers and cases, and you’ll probably even hate the secretaries and the other rookie associates. You’re gonna hate the grind, the routine, the sheer drudgery of all the mindless crap they dump on you. Response?”
“I disagree.”
“Great,” John said, still writing. Then he pulled on the cigarette and blew out an impressive cloud of smoke. He put down the pen. “I thought you wanted to try something different and help people in the process. Did I not hear these words from you just a few weeks ago?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Well, change it back. It’s not too late.”
“No.”
“But why? There must be a reason.”
“I just don’t want to spend three years in rural Virginia trying to learn enough Spanish so I can listen to the problems of people who are here illegally in the first place.”
“I’m sorry, but that sounds like a great way to spend the next three years. I don’t buy it. Give me another reason.” With that, John shoved his leather swivel chair back and jumped to his feet. Kyle had seen this a million times. His father preferred to pace and toss his hands about when he was agitated and firing questions. It was an old habit from the courtroom, and it was not unexpected.
“I’d like to make some money.”
“For what? To buy things, some new toys? You won’t have the time to play with them.”
“I plan to save—”
“Of course you will. Living in Manhattan is so cheap you’ll save a fortune.” He was walking in front of his Ego Wall, framed certificates and photos almost to the ceiling. “I don’t buy it, and I don’t like it.” His cheeks were turning colors. The Scottish temper was warming up.
Speak softly, Kyle reminded himself. A sharp word or two would make things much worse. He would survive this little clash, as he had survived the others, and one day soon all the harsh words would be over and Kyle would be off to New York.
“It’s all about the money, isn’t it, Kyle?” John said. “You were raised better.”
“I’m not here to be insulted, Dad. I’ve made my decision. I ask you to respect it. A lot of fathers would be thrilled with such a job.”
John McAvoy stopped pacing and stopped smoking,and he looked across his office at the handsome face of his only son, a twenty-five-year-old who was quite mature and unbelievably bright, and he decided to back off. The decision was made. He’d said enough. Any more and he might say too much. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. It’s all you. You’re smart enough to know what you want, but I’m your father and I’ll have some opinions about your next big decision, and the next. That’s what I’m here for. If you screw up again, I’ll damned sure let you know it.”
“I’m not screwing up, Dad.”
“I will not bicker.”
“Can we go to dinner? I’m starving.”
“I need a drink.”
_________
They rode together to Victor’s Italian Restaurant, John’s Friday night ritual for as long as Kyle could remember. John had his usual end-of-the-week martini. Kyle had his standard drink—club soda with a twist of lime. They ordered pasta with meatballs, and after the second martini John began to mellow. Having his son at the largest and most prestigious law firm in the country did have a nice ring to it.
But he was still puzzled by the abrupt change in plans.
If you only knew, Kyle kept saying to himself. And he ached because he couldn’t tell his father the truth.
9
_________
K yle was relieved when his mother did not answer the phone. He waited until almost eleven on Saturday morning before calling. He left a pleasant little message about popping in for a quick hello as he was passing through York for some vague reason. She was either asleep or medicated, or if it was a good day, she was in her studio thoroughly
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