Dear Future Ex-wife

A large, circular mahogany desk is at the center of the bright, open lobby. Huge flat-screen televisions are hung on the walls, with plush couches and oversized chairs rounding out the space. Gaming consoles and controllers are scattered on the tables. My father wanted people to feel like they were at home in our office. Our visitors have more tech at their disposal than Best Buy.

During the lunch hour, our employees have online contests, and at the end of each week, those with the best scores are given small bonuses. Nate’s dad knows how to create an environment that keeps the nerds entertained. Our employee retention is high because of it, but he has no idea how to manage money. That’s the reason we are in this mess.

The silence soothes me as I walk the halls, staring at each of the projects I helped with over the years. I grew up in an unusual environment. As the only daughter of a gamer, I was raised more like a boy. Sure, I had dresses and makeup and other girly things, but my dad didn’t know what to do with me. And luckily for him, he never had to learn. Because Nate was always there to keep me company.

I stop in front of Nate’s executive suite. His door is shut, the blinds open enough for me to see the Harley Quinn and Joker figurines on his conference table. My dad named me after the Joker’s girlfriend. He’s obsessed with DC Comics, where Nate’s dad is a major Marvel Comics fan. The two of them can go at it for hours, debating over whether Iron Man is better than Batman. I say it depends if we’re talking about the movies or the comics.

I smile at the sight of the figurines in Nate’s office. He still has the present I bought him for his eighteenth birthday. It was the last present I ever gave him. Not long after that, we grew apart and things changed.

“Morning,” I say to my dad as I step inside his office.

Facing the window behind his desk, he swivels his chair until our eyes meet. His white oxford is crinkled and unbuttoned halfway. A red tie hangs loose around his neck. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as though he got punched. His skin is more wrinkled than the last time I saw him, and his complexion has a sallow look to it.

“Right on time,” he says in a hushed tone, his voice rough and scratchy. He points at the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit. Dick will be here any minute.”

I hate my godfather’s nickname. As a child, I thought little about calling him Dick, but as an adult, it sounds weird as hell.

“Oh, I didn’t know Richard was eating with us.”

I was hoping it would be the two of us since I haven’t seen him since Christmas. And by the looks of the empty crystal decanter on his desk, we’re not eating any time soon. My dad would rather drink himself into oblivion. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he speaks, it sounds as though it pains him.

“This is a family matter,” my dad says, rubbing his temple with his thumb. “And for this plan to work, we need everyone to play their part.”

In a few short months, he’s aged five years. His once sandy hair and beard, both of which could use a good trim, are almost completely gray. Years of hard work and dedication have taken its toll on him. He missed recitals and school plays, even my high school graduation. Some men are not meant to be fathers, and my dad is one of them. He put everything before my mom and me. We were nothing more than side characters in his story.

“Okay, I get that.” I cross my legs and then smooth a hand down the front of my skirt. “So, what’s the plan? Did Voss reconsider?”

He glances at the watered-down glass of amber liquid on his desk. “Wait until Dick and his boys show.”

Annoyed, jetlagged, and dead tired, I lean back in the oversized leather chair and sigh. Much like the rest of the company headquarters, his office is a nerd haven. Framed posters of our video games are mixed in with covers of magazines like Wired and Gamer Mag. Jonathan McQueen and Richard King are like the Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak of video games. In the last thirty years, they have been featured in major tech publications hundreds of times. The media loves talking about the family values of our company, which was one of the selling points for Titan Tech.

At the final meeting that sealed the deal with Titan, I put on an epic performance. We all did. My dad acted like a loving, doting father who actually gives a crap. Even Nate was on his best behavior, all of his wicked charms on full display. Stefan, Nate’s younger brother, wowed Carl Voss with a demo of his new game. He doesn’t have his older brother’s skill with words, but he’s a damn good coder that understands what our customers want. Even Richard talked the best game of his life that day.