The Convenient Wife

This is a regular thing that comes up at least three to four times a year since I hit adulthood, and it was deemed appropriate for me to procreate.

“I’m not getting any younger,” he says, giving me that fucking stink eye I hate.

“You know what would make me happy?” I ask, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “If you stopped trying to force marriage and kids down my throat, and let me live the life I want, not the one you’re trying to mold for me.”

“Bolt—”

“Dad, I’m done talking about it. I don’t care what you guys went through to have me, that was your choice. I didn’t ask to be born, I didn’t force you to have me. So, stop trying to turn me into you.”

Clenching his jaw, I catch the thick vein in his forehead as it pops like a caterpillar under his skin and begins to throb. “You’re our only child, Bolt, our only son. You’ve been given everything you ever wanted. Asking you to find love and have children isn’t outlandish or wild.”

“You can’t force me to do anything, you don’t own me. I’m not a kid anymore, I’m a grown man, and I know what I want from my life. And I’m sorry, it’s not a wife and kids.”

Veering his stare, the thick crease in the center of his forehead throbs as his lip twitches. “Do you think all of this was created just so you could take advantage of it? My grandfather worked hard, passing it on to my father, then to me. I refuse to let this place end with you, I won’t allow that to happen.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Let me make this very simple for you to understand, Bolt. I’m done dropping hints and asking nicely, I’m done hoping that last Barbie doll you brought home or the one before that, could be the one, and I’m done hoping that one day you’ll grow up.” Taking a step in, my father holds his finger up to my face. “Now, I’m telling you. You’re going to find a nice girl, you’re going to love her and marry her, and you’re going to give your mother as many gran-babies as she wants you to have. Are we clear?”

“What?!” I say loudly with a deep chuckle. “Yeah, okay, I’ll get right on it.”

He has to be joking. There’s no way he thinks he can give me orders anymore. Especially orders like that.

What the fuck is he smoking?

Who demands their child to have kids?

What parent thinks they can just tell their adult child to make babies, and they’ll listen?

It’s absurd, I haven’t heard anything that ridiculous in ages. So I laugh, I laugh like he just told me the funniest joke in the world.

“I’m serious, Bolt.” His left brow arches high as he tips his head to emphasize that he isn’t cracking a sick joke. “You want all of this,” he says, letting his eyes circle the room. “You’ll do what I’m telling you to do.”

“You can’t force me to do anything.” My mouth is still forming a smile and I know he’s getting pissed, but this is insane. “I’m as much a part of this as you, I’ve earned every last drop of this place.”

Shrugging his shoulder, my father grabs a shot glass and pours a shot. With one snap of his neck, he downs the liquor. “I’m done with all this bullshit, Bolt.” Slamming down the glass, he pours another one and holds it up. “You better have someone by the time of the reunion or else.”

“Or else what? Are you going to ground me?” I can see that pissed him off as his lids drop and his pupils zero in on my face.

When I was a kid, that look scared the shit out of me. Now that look just makes me wonder what the hell is going through his head. Because whatever it is, it isn’t good. The only difference is I get to go home to my condo after he blows his fucking whistle, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

“Or I’ll write you out of the company, I’ll leave the distillery to someone else in the family. Someone who deserves it, someone who won’t take it for granted, someone who has children to keep our legacy going.”

Furrowing my brows, I eye him. “You can’t do that.”

“It’s my company, I can do whatever the hell I want to.”

“Dad—”

Tossing back the shot, my father slams the shot-glass down on the bar. My eyes immediately trace the base, trying to see if it’s broken. It’s not, and I’m mildly satisfied the glass is strong.

Holding up his hand, I can feel the heat off his skin. My father is pissed. “This is it, Bolt, your last chance. I won’t think twice about handing the keys to someone who is going to help keep this business in our family.”