Nichole
Was there a word worse than shame? Cause I was passed feeling ashamed.
This was all Christine's fault.
If only she hadn't dragged me out of the house with only a joggers and a faded tee shirt, none of this would be happening.
But what were the odds that the business meeting my dad had about selling his company was with Drego? Why did it have to be him? Of all the people, why him?
"Are you still thinking about it?"
"What do you think?" I growled. "This is all your fault, ya' know? If you hadn't dragged me out. I said I wanted to change first, but you wouldn't listen."
"There was no time." Christine eyed me. "What was more important, how you looked or the fact that dad had put the company up for sale on the market?"
I groaned.
"Do you have any idea how scared I was when I heard that he was going to sell the company?" Christine's eyes almost watered.
I grabbed the glass of water from her hands and set it on the kitchen slab.
"Christine, dad isn't going to sell the company. He was just angry about our fight. That's all."
Her face looked like she wasn't buying my explanation. She was still worried. And I was too. My heart almost dropped when she ran into my room and told me what she'd heard. I wasn't just worried, I also felt guilty.
It wasn't my intention, but we'd fought like we always did. He'd insisted I come work for the company and I'd rejected the offer like I usually did. But this time, Dad refused to let it go. In the last week, I've heard the words "work for your family," over thirty times. It became our greeting. It was getting annoying, so I told him if he continued to pester me I would leave and not return anytime soon…
"Christine. Dad and Grandpa worked very hard for that company. He wouldn't sell it for any reason. I think he just did that to threaten me."
"I thought about it too. But what if he's serious?"
I grabbed her palms, wrapping them in mine. "I promise you, he's not." The truth was, I didn't know. Whether dad was serious or not. A part of me was as scared as Christine was. But I couldn't let her see that side of me. She'd break down. I know it.
Christine's sad eyes bore into mine. They were speaking, and I could hear them very clearly.
"Christine." I shook my head.
"Please?"
"I can't. Not yet."
"How much longer? How long till you're ready to work beside him? You know that's what he wants. You and him, working together."
"You're there with him."
"It's not the same. You have an MBA from Harvard." She said the Harvard like the big deal it was. "You specialized in marketing as well as customer care. You've been working even before you graduated school. You're smart and I know you'll be very helpful to him. I, on the other hand, studied fashion. I don't think I've been much help to him. That's why it has to be you." Her voice choked with sadness.
Christine has always wanted our father's approval more than anything. Even while growing up, although she rebelled; choosing fashion over accounting, she would still pester him, beg him even to accept the choices she made. On some level, I believed she loved him more than I did. If my dad needed her, she would drop anything and everything for him. No questions asked…
I led her to the living room. We sat down on the couch.
"How long will you continue to do what you hate?"
"I don't hate—"
"Chris…"
"Okay. Maybe I hate what I'm doing right now. But it makes dad so happy. And that's more important to me."
"More Important than your own dreams? This is your life."
"Yes." Christine's eyes were unshaken, her certainty glowing so brightly, it almost made me ashamed. I was older and yet I couldn't make the kind of sacrifice she was making.
"I know it's asking a lot from you—I'm not asking you to come back now, all I'm asking is you give him a date, a time, something. Just tell him when you will come work for the company. I'm sure he'll wait. Please…"
"Okay Christine." Because with Christine, I always cave. " I'll think about it. Are you happy now?"
She smiled.
I pulled her to my body, and pressed her to myself. She wrapped her hands around me.
"You know, you're quite grown for a twenty four year old." I whispered.
"That's because my big sister raised me. She taught me everything I know and filled the place of a mother in my life just so I wouldn't feel like I didn't have one."
My eyes watered a little, but I held back my tears. There was no reason to get all emotional. Our mother died twenty years ago. It was a long time. And we've all moved on.
Christine and I heard the sound of the door and pulled apart. Christine got up, rushing towards dad when she saw him. I joined her, and we both glared at him.
"What was that stunt you pulled today?" Christine yelled.
"Can I at least take a seat before the interrogation begins?" Dad said nonchalantly. He maintained his usual demeanor. As if we were being unreasonable and he'd done nothing out of character.
"Even if you wanted to do something like this, couldn't you have told us? Prepared us? Do you know how we felt when we found out?" I scolded.
"Now you care about the company?" He sighed.
Dad walked past us and took a seat in the beige colored couch that faced the tv hanging low in our large brown and white console. I thought Christine had done amazingly with the living room. She really was wasting her talent working for our father.
"Really? That's what you have to say to us? That's the explanation you're going with?" I sat by dad's left and Christine sat by his right. We made sure he felt the heat of our disappointment.
"C'mon dad, you're not being fair. I understand your refusal to tell Nichole, but what about me?"
I shot Chris a glare, she simply waved her hand to dismiss me.
Dad looked at Christine. When he looked at me, I saw the guilt he was trying to hide. God forbid he showed any emotion. But that wasn't the only thing he was trying to hide. I saw hurt too.
Was it because of me? Did I hurt his feelings that much?
Dad was still very strong and he wasn't retiring anytime soon. I had a plan. When he retires, I'll take over. Just like he wants.
But I can't work with my father. Not side by side him. The one character I'd inherited from him was that I was a perfectionist. But dad was worse. I'd worked with him before. It wasn't easy. I didn't want to repeat those agonizing days…
"I won't sell the company." He said standing up and walking away.
"That's it? That's all you have to say? What about an explanation?" Christine nagged.
I held her hand, stopping her from going after our father.
She looked at me.
"That's enough for today. We can always talk tomorrow."
"But…"
"Christine." I shook my head and that was enough to stop her.