I stared at my fingers curled around my coffee cup instead. Because that seemed like something I could do.
Dad sat down beside me. “Look, I get that you aren’t where you thought you would be, but that’s life, son. You get pummeled and punched, then you stand up and say fuck you, life, and keep trudging on…until you finally keel over.”
I lifted my eyes to his. “Wow…that sounds awesome. Can’t wait for that to start.”
He patted my shoulder. “I’d say it already has. But how you deal with the disappointment is still your choice. You can immerse yourself in sex, you can immerse yourself in work, barely coming up for air, you can belittle everyone who’s better off than you, trying to make yourself look better, or you can drink yourself into oblivion every night.” Dad shrugged. “Or, you could make the best of your situation, pull your head out of the clouds, be responsible and reliable, put your nose to the grindstone, and provide for those who need it. And while you’re doing it, you try to remember why you’re doing it, so you can attempt to get through each day with as much of your sanity intact as possible.”
“And how do I do that?”
He smiled. “I’m so glad you asked. The place I retired from, the place I worked my ass off for twenty-eight years, is hiring. I talked to the foreman, and he’s willing to give you a shot. It’s an entry-level position, grunt work, and it will be hard, but you’ll make a somewhat decent living. You’ll get by.”
Up until his retirement a couple years ago, Dad had worked in one factory or another for the majority of his life. When the plant he’d been at in Kansas closed and our family had moved to L.A. to live with Uncle Billy, Dad had gotten a job at a place that made machines that made other machines. It was the sort of repetitious, mind-numbing work that made my skin crawl. But Dad was right, he’d made a decent income, enough that Mom had been able to stay home with us kids. Problem was, I didn’t want a “decent” life. I wanted more.
Sighing, I told him, “Thanks, Dad, but I don’t want to work where you worked. That place sucked the life out of you. And I don’t want to get by…I want to live. I want to rock the world with my best friends. I want the woman of my dreams…my best friend…to be by my side again. I want…everything I gave up.”
Standing, Dad shrugged. “You gave it up for a reason, Griffin. But even so, it doesn’t matter. Your options aren’t what they used to be, and it’s time for you grow up. I told Tyler you’d be there Monday morning, seven a.m. sharp.”
A groan escaped me as I sank my head to the table. Seven a.m. was too fucking early to do anything productive. But again, Dad was right. It was time for me to grow up.
I was still sitting there with my head on the table, my coffee long cold, contemplating my future of perpetual monotony, when my sister, Chelsey, came over to visit. She bounded into the kitchen, and even though I wasn’t looking at her, I could feel her radiant energy. Mom was washing the dishes, and she stopped when Chelsey exclaimed, “Great news! I talked to Dustin last night. He’s coming home Monday! For sure this time!”
She squealed, and I contained a groan. Her life was getting back on track Monday, while mine was falling further behind. How the fuck did this happen to me? I was on top of the world…now I was nothing. A joke. Laughed at, then discarded.
I made a moaning sound, and I heard Chelsey ask Mom, “Is he…okay?”
Mom took a puff on the cigarette in her mouth. “He’s been like that all morning. Dad got him a job. He’s…absorbing.”
I groaned again. I was in the biggest band in the world, barely doing anything that constituted real work, and now I was going to be tightening bolts for ten hours a day, six days a week, fifty-one weeks a year. More, if I didn’t take any vacation time.
Fuck. My. Life.
Feeling Chelsey sitting beside me, I lifted my head; it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and I was pretty sure I had a flat spot from the table. “Hey,” I muttered.
Her smile was bright and her eyes were twinkling, but I could tell she was trying to rein in her joy. “Hey, yourself. How’s it going?”
“Like Mom said, I’ve got a job now…so it’s going fantastic…” She made a scrunched, I’m-sorry-but-too-giddy-to-frown expression. “Dustin’s coming home, huh?” I asked.
A supernova smile erupted on her face, and she nodded so hard a blond curl fell from a clip in her hair. “Monday.”
“That’s great, sis. You deserve your happy ending.” One of us should have one.
Like she could hear my silent sullenness, she put a hand on my arm. “You do too, Griff. You’re not such a bad guy, you know? A little self-absorbed, maybe, but we all are, to some extent.”
Even though I nodded in agreement, I didn’t quite agree with her assessment. She was the most selfless person I’d ever met. And me…I’d rather take a mundane job that I knew I was going to hate than go home and face the guys. And my wife. I was a fucking coward, too proud to throw in the towel. But at least if I stayed here and took this job, I’d be able to help my family. That was one bright spot, I supposed.
Tilting her head, Chelsey regarded me with appraising eyes. “Did you learn anything?”
That my ideas were shit and I should never take my own advice? Yeah, I think that one had finally sunk in. With a half smile, I told her, “Yeah, never hire someone off the Internet.”