A knot twisted inside of Lucian’s stomach. He couldn’t deal with any more guilt or stress or he was going to have an ulcer before the month was over.
The trustworthiness of his father was up for debate. He didn’t know if even a come-to-Jesus moment was enough to change a man like Christos Patras. His father feared no god. On the contrary, he thought he was God. So the entire idea of him suddenly caring about what was going on in his children’s lives was too foreign for Lucian to digest.
Lucian was trained by the best to overtake the best. He had to be the better man in order to outmaneuver his dad the way he had. He knew what being a man of business entailed. One had to know how to read people, pick up on any weaknesses and put pressure there at just the right time in order to proceed in the desired direction.
His mind drew back to another time in his childhood, before his mother had gotten sick. He was seven, sitting out back on the veranda, hiding because he was crying. When he heard his father’s heavy footfalls he quickly dashed away his tears.
***
“Lucian! What are you doing out here? Your mother’s looking for you.”
He drew up the tail of his shirt and wiped his nose. Scrambling to his feet, he bowed his head instinctively, knowing his father would not be empathetic, and scurried by. He came up short when his father caught him by the collar.
“Are those tears? Patras men don’t cry, Lucian. You’ll never get anywhere in this world if you don’t toughen up.”
He clenched his teeth, wishing he could strike the giant that held him immobile. “Yes, sir.”
His father released his collar and narrowed his eyes, critically eyeing Lucian’s flushed face. “Is this about that dog?”
That dog! His name was Rex and he was their family pet. Rather than get into an argument, he pressed his lips together, but frustration boiled beneath his skin.
His father shook his head. “Damn dog, I told your mother that was a terrible idea. Now look at you kids, every one of you an absolute mess because some animal’s dead.”
Lucian’s heart sank. His father was nothing like the rest of them. He was cold and unfeeling. Everything he spoke of had to do with business and money. He never simply stopped to just be a father.
“I should have saved everyone the worry and shot that thing long ago, put it out of its misery,” his father said as he turned away and headed back toward the house.
A white haze of anger took hold of him. His crooked, chewed fingernails bit into his small hands as they fisted at his side. His tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as he sucked in a deep breath through his nose like a dragon draws in smoke after breathing fire. Hate was a living, seething thing coiled inside of him, and he had to get it out.
Like a locomotive running off its track, Lucian bellowed as deep as his young lungs would allow and charged at the man. His fists crashed into his back, and for a moment he felt his father’s shock before it transitioned into anger.
“I hate you!” Lucian shouted as his fists pummeled the giant. “You’re mean and heartless! No one here loves you! You don’t care about anyone or anything but your stupid money!”
His arms were restrained as he thrashed and spit. His father’s anger quickly shifted into something disturbing. As if deranged, his dad was suddenly smiling at him. “Good, boy. That’s it. Be angry. Let it all out. Tears are for pansies, and no Patras man is a pansy. You see, love weakens a person, makes them vulnerable. Never put yourself in that position, Lucian. You open yourself up for those lesser emotions and you open yourself up to be dominated. Power is control, and having control leads to more power. Love corrupts power.”
As he drew in one enraged breath after another, he wondered how a man survived all those years without a heart. He jerked his arms away, forcing his shoulders out of his father’s grip.
“That’s you. I don’t ever want to be like you! You have no heart.”
His father stood and smiled. It was odd, that was perhaps the one moment of his life he recalled seeing pride in his father’s eyes, but it was for all the wrong reasons.
He nodded. “Go ahead and hate me, son. I’ll survive. I’ve made it through worse. If I have to be the one you hate in order to teach you that it’s okay, then so be it. I will not have a son who cries. Love weakens us, but hate focuses our drive. Embrace it, trust it, let it move you to top of the heap.”