Chapter 4

At dinner, the contrast hit even harder.

The table was one of those old folding round ones, and the food was ordinary home cooking, baked fish and sauteed greens, but every bite left William tangled up inside.

Leslie poured his father a drink, the motion easy and practiced.

Partway through the meal, Edward's wife mentioned she'd been thinking about taking up dancing lately, but she was afraid she'd be bad at it and people would laugh.

William's instinct was to cut in and say, “A woman your age, what are you stirring up all that for? Just stay home and mind the grandkids.”

But before he could open his mouth, Leslie picked it up.

“Mom, if you want to go, go. Nobody's born knowing how to dance. Besides, this is exercise, it's not a competition. Having fun is what matters. I'll buy you a proper pair of dance shoes later.”

Edward chimed in from the side. “Exactly. Go on, that way you won't be home all day picking me apart.”

The whole family laughed.

Halfway through the meal, Leslie's phone rang, something to do with work, and it sounded thorny. His brow drew together and his voice turned clipped.

When he hung up, he seemed on edge, and set his chopsticks down hard.

If it had been William, he'd have laid into him then and there. “We're eating. What are you doing dragging your work moods home? Who's that face for?”

But Edward only quietly picked out a piece of meat from the belly of the fish and set it in his son's bowl.

“What is it? That project acting up again?”

Edward's voice was level, giving nothing away.

“Yeah. The client insists on changing the whole plan, wants it by tomorrow morning. It's insane.” Leslie complained.

“That's pretty annoying, all right.”

Edward nodded.

“Eat first. You need a full stomach before you've got the strength to curse them out. Worst case, you quit and come home and live off your parents. Your mom and I still have our pensions, we won't let you starve.”

Leslie blinked, then snorted out a laugh.

“Come on, that little pension of yours wouldn't even cover my mortgage.”

Just like that the mood eased. Leslie picked his chopsticks back up and dug into the fish.

Watching all of it, William felt a shock there were no words for.

It struck him then that the role he'd always played at home was that of a judge, an overseer, a god standing by to correct every mistake.

After dinner, Leslie went to do the dishes.

William drew Edward out onto the balcony for a smoke.

The balcony was crowded with plants, nothing rare, but every one of them thriving.

William looked out at the lit windows below and stayed quiet for a long while.

“Edward, I don't get it.”

He turned and looked at his old comrade's face, deeply lined and yet still so at ease.

“I really don't get it. Money, I have more than you. Discipline, I was stricter. I mapped out everything for Duke. So why is he living like a walking corpse now, while your Leslie lives so……like a real person?”

The words came out heavy, and full of sorrow.

Edward took a drag and let the smoke out slowly, the haze curling in the night air.

He looked at William, something like pity and gravity settling in his eyes.

“Old Finch, you've always thought raising a kid was like running a business. You put in the money, you manage it strictly, and you're owed a return. Right?”

William nodded. “Isn't that how it works?”

“No.”

Edward shook his head, his tone going unusually serious.

“A home isn't a company, and a kid isn't an employee. That management style of yours makes money at the company. Used at home, all it creates is an enemy.”

“Then what is it you rely on?”

William was getting frantic, and he even lost his composure enough to grab Edward's arm.

“Don't keep me guessing. My home's falling apart right now. Duke treats me like an enemy, won't say a word to me. Teach me. How exactly do I fix this?”