The Boy Who Has No Hope (Soulless 6)
“It’s not an interrogation.”
“And I know the whole rocket thing is going to come up…and I don’t want to talk about it.”
Now we finally got to the truth.
“I don’t like people. I get along with people I work with because our minds are the same. I get along with my family because we’re family. And I get along with you…because you were patient enough to put up with me and get past all my rough edges. But public appearances and talk shows…not for me.” He grabbed the other half of his sandwich and leaned back so he could eat it, holding it in a single hand while his elbow was propped on the armrest.
“I have a counterargument to that…if you’re willing to listen.”
“It’s not going to change my mind, but you’re free to spend your time how you choose, even if that means wasting it.”
He was back to his asshole ways. “Whenever I hear you talk about your work, I can feel your passion and your commitment. I’m not going to head back to school to be an engineer, but it’s inspiring. We live in a world where all people care about is becoming rich, as if that will make them happy. You’re an example of dedicating your life to something, while being indifferent to the monetary gain. It’s incredibly inspiring. You’re an exceptional role model to people everywhere, especially young people, and if you could influence those people to go into science, you’d be impacting the world on a greater scale, which is exactly what you want.”
He continued to wear his steely gaze.
“I think you should consider it, Derek. You have no idea how fascinated people will be with the words that come out of your mouth. All kinds of people. When you were a boy, was there someone you looked up to?”
His steely gaze faltered slightly.
“Someone whom you read every book about, watched every interview, someone who inspired you to reach these unbelievable heights?”
“There were a few. But the person who inspired me the most…is my father.”
I couldn’t stop my eyes from softening. “Because you got the opportunity to see his work ethic, to listen to him discuss his research, to see someone so altruistically dedicated to doing good in the world. What if he hadn’t done that? Where would you be now?”
The only response he gave was a shrug.
“I can help you with this, Derek. We can practice with potential topics. We can even ask the interviewer for the questions ahead of time so we can go through them together. We can work on the way you respond to things.”
He dropped his gaze. “You of all people should know I’m a shitty conversationalist.”
“You aren’t when you let your walls down.”
“Well, I’m not going to do that with strangers. If anything, people are going to hate me instead of being inspired.”
I shook my head because I knew that wasn’t true. “Derek, I watch you own that classroom two times a week. I see your confidence, the way you command respect from every single person in that room. I also see the way you care, even when you aren’t saying particularly kind words. Those things will carry over once you discuss your work. Derek, the world is going to love you. Stop hiding from it.”
He held his sandwich but didn’t take another bite, taking the time to actually consider what I said. “They’re going to talk about the Odyssey—”
“You did nothing wrong, Derek. You tried to stop it—”
“Doesn’t mean I ever want to talk about it.”
“We can ask the interviewer not to mention it.”
“And if they do it anyway?”
“You can always refuse to answer it, Derek. Remember, you’re in control. They’re asking the questions, but you always have the power not to answer. But…I don’t think it would be terrible if you did talk about it. Maybe talking about it will make you feel—”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this is something you’ll never understand.” His tone deepened, and now he didn’t look me in the eye. “You have no idea the weight that I carry. You have no idea the nightmares that haunt me. You have no idea what it’s like to fucking build something that kills five goddamn people.” He rose to his feet then looked at me, his eyes furious, his jaw so tight it looked like he might shatter his teeth. “Don’t fucking sit there and tell me that talking about it will make me feel better. Five American heroes are dead because—”
“Derek, it’s okay…” I rose to my feet and raised my hands slightly, keeping my tone soft to dissolve all his anger and pain. I could see the tears forming in his eyes, the harsh frustration he felt at being provoked like this. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry…”
He turned away, his hands moving to his hips. He faced the bookshelves behind his desk, as if he needed a moment to calm himself, to bring his breathing back to normal.