“You expect me to be quiet when I’m getting old waiting for you to settle down? And let me ask you this. What’s the point of having all that money with no one to share it with? I mean, not a single soul. What’s the point?”
I’ve heard the question so many times, I already knew it was coming. I say, “What would you like for me to do, Mother? Should I walk down the street and ask some random floozy to marry me?”
“At this point, I’ll take what I can get.” She coughs. “Let’s be realistic here. I don’t want you with a floozy, but I ain’t getting no younger, son. I want to see you happy and taken care of.”
“I am taken care of, Mother. I have a housekeeper who takes care of my house, a chef who takes care of my food, a pool boy who takes care of the pool, and a driver who takes me anywhere I want to go. I’m very well taken care of.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s fine and all, but who’s taking care of your heart?”
Her question stings because the answer is no one. I’m so used to being alone – so accustomed to being Essex DePaul, I’m not sure if anyone would want to. I’m not exactly what you would call friendly. I’m not even friendly with Quintessa and I want her so badly, I can taste her lips on the tip of my tongue. But she wouldn’t be with a man like Essex when Stewart Dennis is more of her speed. The only thing is, I’m not him anymore. Don’t know how to be him and don’t want to be him.
I respond to my Mother, “I don’t want to rush finding the right woman. Love can’t be rushed, Mother.”
“When you’re thirty-four years old with no prospects it can.”
I sigh and switch lanes and topics. “How’s Dad?”
“Your father’s just fine. Stop dodging my questions.”
“That’s not my intention, Mother. Do you know what is?”
“What?”
“Making sure my mother is okay. That’s the reason for my call. And now that I know you’re good, I’m going to get off this phone. It’s been a long day for me.”
“A long day of doing much of nothing, but living like a single man.”
I grin just slightly. “I am a single man.”
“Don’t sass me, boy.”
“Mother, my beautiful Mother—”
“Don’t try to charm me, either. Use all that charm to find me a daughter-in-law.”
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too, son.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I hang up the phone as I’m pulling into my driveway. I park there tonight instead of the garage. I get out of the car, lean against it and cross my arms, staring at my own house. This house is huge – a massive mansion that sits on acres of land. I can smell the salt in the air drifting from the emerald coast that’s basically my backyard. There are balconies, a guest house by the heated, in-ground pool, an outdoor shower, a separate living area…ten bedrooms. I’ve amassed so much. I used to stand out here and be proud of what I’ve accomplished, but lately, I’ve been feeling something different. I have more than I ever had when I was growing up, but I have not a soul to share it with. When I look at my life from this perspective, it hits different.
It’s easy to pretend in public that I have it all. But when I’m alone like I am now, standing next to my expensive car, staring at a house only one percent of people in the United States can afford, this realization hits me hard – I have nothing.
Not a thing.
That’s what I battle constantly. It angers me, because society, all the commercials, even counselors and advisors from college say that degrees equate to money. And the more money you make, the more things you can buy. The more things you can buy, the happier you’ll be. So, why am I standing outside of my five-million-dollar mansion with no desire to go inside? Why am I not happy?
My phone dings. It’s a text message. I pull it from my sports jacket and look at it. It’s from Quintessa. I read her message.