One More Time

“Later,” I told her.

I knew I'd have to explain everything to my family sooner or later. I'd figured I'd have more time to broach the subject. My family had come to like Danielle a lot and I knew our split was going to hit them a little bit hard. Then she showed up hanging all over Adam though, and the cat was out of the bag about our breakup. There was no gentle way to break it to them after that. Oh well – not much I could do.

I stepped into my dad's office and closed the door behind us, shutting Danielle out. If she'd wanted to be part of this family, perhaps she should have acted like it. Betraying my trust was not the way to go about it. I would have done almost anything for that woman, and she’d taken it for granted. And now? Hooking up with my half-brother not even twenty-four hours after we'd broken up? That was low, even for her. Though, I guess I should have expected her willingness to stoop to that level after what she'd done to me. I probably shouldn't have been all that surprised.

My dad's office had always been a sacred space. His sacred space, to be more precise. It was a sanctuary I hadn't been allowed to set foot in until I was old enough to work for him. Which in his eyes, was when I was fifteen. I worked for him after school while others played football or went on dates or did whatever it was kids my age typically did.

My dad though, had insisted that I forgo the usual teenage activities and demanded that I devote myself to learning the business. There were times I resented it, sure. But, I bit the bullet and I was there. Every single day until I went off to Stanford for college, I was there. I did everything he wanted to and more, getting to know the business inside and out. Every single facet of it.

Still, even though I was older now, I still stepped inside the hallowed walls of his private sanctuary, and held my breath as I took it all in. As crazy as it sounded, there was a reverent and almost spiritual air about the place – probably because it was such a forbidden room to me when I was young. It still held some sense of mystery and awe to me. The room was dark, with rich wooden walls and floors, and a massive Cherrywood desk in the center of the room. A wine-co

lored rug took up most of the floor, and at the helm of it all, his presence as dignified and commanding as ever, was my dad. In his usual spot in the chair behind the desk, surrounded by bookshelves taller than any of us, he gazed at us as we situated ourselves.

There were no photos or any personal items in my dad's office. Something I always thought a little strange. I'd want to be surrounded by my personal effects in my sanctuary. He always said though, his office was a place for work. My dad had never been a very sentimental man and didn't have time to deal with overwrought, emotional drama. He was a no-nonsense, business first, kind of man.

Adam dropped down onto the black leather sofa that sat along the wall, facing Dad. My mom joined Dad behind his desk, her posture perfect, her hand on his shoulder, standing tall. It was like they were posing for a photograph or something. Terrance stood on the other side of my dad, his hands at his side.

They all stared at me as I quickly considered my options. I looked over at the sofa but had no desire to sit next to Adam; not with the way he was sitting there smirking at me. Instead, I chose to remain standing near the front of his desk. Terrance offered me a seat – there were two leather chairs flanking the sides of the desk-- but I shook my head. No, as much as I disliked Adam in that moment, I was determined to avoid making a spectacle of myself.

“I prefer to stand,” I said.

“Very well,” he said.

He nodded gracefully and stepped back to his position beside my father. The circles under my dad's eyes were darker than mine – and I know for certain he hadn't been out drinking the night before.

My dad was a man that never needed more than four hours sleep a night, but it was exceedingly rare to see him looking so tired. His white hair was thinning even more than I'd remembered, and his skin was sallow and thin, as if you could see through it. His eyes were the same blue color as mine, – people often said I looked like a younger version of him. I had the same blue eyes and sandy blonde hair that he'd had in his youth. Given that my dad had been a good looking, strapping young man, I'd always taken it as a compliment.

Dad cleared his throat, and we all stood at attention. Even Adam stood, joining me at the front of the desk as if to hear things clearer, a smug little smile on his face. I really wanted to smack it right off of him. Adam probably thought this had to do with Dad's will, and he, of course, wanted a piece of that. I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes and see him coming up with the list of shit he was going to spend it all on.

“As you're all aware, I saw my doctor last week for some test results,” he said, his voice still strong and commanding. It echoed throughout the room like rolling thunder. “And the results were not good, as we feared.”

Mom's eyes filled with tears and she squeezed his shoulder, wiping away the tears with her other hand. I inched toward her, but she held out a hand, telling me to stop.

As with all things, I obeyed my mother.

“The doctors have found a mass in my brain,” he said. “They believe that it's benign, but because of where it's located, it's impossible to remove.”

I grabbed the corner of my dad's desk, not trusting my legs to keep me from falling over. I felt a churning in my gut and a fluttering in my chest. I'd expected the news to not be good, but actually hearing it coming out of his mouth, confirming my fears still hit me like a runaway train.

“Benign? That means it's not cancerous,” I said. “That's a good thing, right?”

My dad's eyes looked over at me, taking me in carefully before he answered. He took my mother's hand and squeezed it gently before speaking again.

“It's not cancerous, no,” he said. “But, because of where it's located, it will likely cause other issues.”

“Other issues?”

My dad's voice cracked, which rattled me to the core. My father was not an emotional man. I didn't think I'd ever seen him shed a single tear in my entire life. So, to hear his voice crack, to hear it as thick with emotion as it was, made a profound and telling statement to me.

My mom cleared her throat and continued for him. “What your father is trying to say, Malcolm, is based on where the tumor is at, it's likely to eventually cause some mental difficulties for him.”

Mental difficulties. I still didn't understand it all, and it must have been obvious from the look on my face. Perhaps it was shock, or disbelief, but none of it made any sense. It all seemed utterly surreal to me. I shook my head to deny the reality of it all, but when I looked back at them, at their stone-faced stoicism, the ugly reality hit me all over again.

My dad was the strongest man I'd ever known, and nothing – not even a tumor – could take him down. I'd genuinely believed that he was one of those superhuman beings that simply could not be beaten and who could conquer anything set in their path.

I'd watched him start his company from scratch. Watched him build it into a thriving empire, a force to be reckoned with in the pharmaceutical industry. Even when times were tough, during the recession, my dad was strong and stood tall, battling the problems as they came, head-on. He never back down, never gave in, and never once did I see him falter.

Surely this wasn't something he couldn't overcome.