Then You Saw Me by Carrie Aarons
29
Austin
There is something about Upstate New York when it begins to warm up.
The winters here are brutal and unforgiving, but once that passes, everything turns green and vibrant. The air starts to smell like summer, and it reminds college students of all the shenanigans we can get up to when the sun turns hot.
I take a drink of the beer I brought out onto the porch of our house, everyone else still out at classes. Talcott is barely visible on the hill above, the crest that watches over everything in this little town. The weather is finally mild enough to sit outside, and that’s what I’ve been doing as I work on a paper that’s due as a final grade in a few weeks. I can’t believe graduation is rushing up at us, like water rising from somewhere you can’t see. It could sweep me away, or I’ll learn to swim.
Mostly, I’ve just been people watching. It’s hard not to from out here, and since it’s two p.m. on a Friday, most of the students who live on Prospect Street are out in their front yards, drinking and playing lawn games. Shouting matches start over Can Jam points, and the girls across the street are tanning with a sprinkler on as they sip out of champagne glasses.
At the house next door, I spot the mailman, and he’s stuffing a package and some letters into their box at the bottom of the driveway. Lazily, I get up from the bench on our front porch and walk to the bottom of our driveway to meet him so he doesn’t have to put the mail in our box.
“Hey, how are ya?” I ask jovially, raising a hand as he pulls up.
“Not too bad, considering this place is starting to thaw out.” The mailman searches the box on the seat next to him and pulls out a bundle of envelopes. “Have a great day.”
I take them and nod. “You too, thanks, man.”
Rifling through the stack, I’m reminded of the last time I did this. When I found Taya’s letter. It seems like ages ago, but the words my friend spoke last week still stick with me. Is she expecting more? Will she always? Do I even care about that?
I’m in love with her. That’s what matters most.
Tonight is her birthday, and I told her I’m going to successfully get her into Stars Bar even though she only has a fake ID. I got her a birthday present, this book all about the Russian language, which I hope she’ll love. But the thing I want to give her most tonight is me.
I’m going to take the plunge. Commit. Tell her I love her. I’m ready. Scared as hell about the future, but ready. I’d rather jump off the cliff than stay standing here and never know what could have been. Or worse, lose her.
With that on my mind, I almost pass over the envelope addressed to me. But then I catch the name of the company, the parent who owns WQNH, and my heart is in my throat.
My offer letter. The one I have to sign and scan back to them. The thing that will detail in writing that I have a job after I graduate—in my chosen field.
I tear it open, and my eyes feast on all of the boring details.
The starting salary is decent, just enough to live on in the city, but still too little not to be hungry and push myself for more. It’ll be tight, my budget, but I’ll make it work. I want this enough, and it’s my ticket to the life I want to build. I’m going to be making money so that I don’t have to move home or rely on my family. Other than that, the vacation and sick time is pretty standard. No bells and whistles because this is entry-level.
But I’m ready for the work. I’m ready to grind and make a name for myself.
I’m about to rush into the house, sign it, and email it to HR when a car pulls into the bottom of our driveway and blocks my car in. It’s not one of my roommates, but I do recognize it.
And my stomach drops when the driver gets out of the vehicle.
“Dad?” I’m so confused; it’s like I’m in an alternate reality.
My father has visited me a total sum of one time since I came to college. He was so disappointed that I chose the radio major that he refused to come see that dream in action. Well, that, and the fact that he’s never been particularly interested in me as a person. My existence serves him; I’m the son he needed to produce an heir to the Van Hewitt line, for all intents and purposes. But loving me? Doting on me? Throwing a ball around or taking an interest in my dreams, imagination, or life? Nah, now why would he want to do that?
“Hello, Austin.” Observing our surroundings, he frowns, deep lines crossing his forehead.
“What are you doing here?” My pulse has sped up, and I’m suddenly parched.
“You’ve been avoiding my calls, and your uncle needs a start date. There are things we need to put in order, Austin. Don’t start disappointing us now.”
As if he has ever accused me of being anything but a nuisance my entire life. I’ve never heard the man refer to me as anything other than a disappointment.
“It’s been a little busy, what with me graduating college in just weeks.” My retort is snide, and by the way his eyes flash, he does not like it.
“With a degree that will be useless once you move home. But enough about that.” Dad waves his hand as if my passion is just a silly hobby. “I’ve come to work out a schedule with you and have you sign the lease on one of our rental apartments. Your mother is not keen on you moving back into the house.”
Great, so they want me to go home to Webton, but I’m not actually invited to live with them. My parents are pieces of work. So I’m supposed to pay rent to my family, who owns the apartment building, and be thankful that my father is “giving” me a place to live. Fucking Christ.
His eyes rest on the letter, the one I was just so excited over and now want to desperately hide. “What’s that?”
“It’s …” I consider, for a moment, lying about it. Passing it off as one of my roommate’s mail or telling him it’s a junk advertisement.
But courage like I’ve never experienced surges through my veins, and it’s because this letter gives me freedom. It gives me an out from continuing to slave away as a Van Hewitt. It gives me an excuse to stop this ridiculous conversation and send him packing once and for all.
“It’s the offer letter for my new job in New York City, at a radio station. And I’m going to be taking it.”
If balls of fire could come out of someone’s eyes, my father would have launched two at me right now.
“Like hell you are. Your uncle is expecting you on the strip mall project. You have a company to run, your family is counting on you.” He’s so angry, his voice is shaking.
“No, you are the one counting on me. Which you shouldn’t have. You knew what I was coming to college to study, and I’ve never been remotely interested in the family business. There are plenty of cousins, male and female, who can take over if they want it. But it won’t be me.”
I’m shaking from the nerves, from finally standing up to the bully who has been plaguing me for eternity.
My dad is so furious that I’m afraid he might get physical. I take a step back, just in case he swings. At this moment, I wouldn’t put it past him. And that right there, knowing that about your parent, is just sad.
“You will move home. You will take your rightful place in the company. You will be a figurehead of the community and fulfill everything we put you on this fucking earth to do.”
Oh, shit. He really is whacked out of his mind. That, or he’s never been told no before.
So I tell him again, “No. It’s not what I want to do. I know you’ll never respect that. I’ve come to terms with it. But I’m going to New York City. I’m going to work in radio.”
His expression is lethal. “You are dead to this family. You hear me? You don’t come back, you are dead.”
That threat’s like taking a bullet. My entire body is numb as he walks back to his car, slams the door after climbing in, and peels off down the street.
I am ninety-nine percent sure that might be the last time my father will ever speak to me. And although I finally defended myself and made the choices that would make me happy, it’s crushing.
My soul is heavy, a weight sitting on me that I don’t think will move or lessen any time soon.
And I have to pretend it all away tonight, for Taya’s birthday. Because I got into a relationship, I allowed a person to pin their happiness on me even though it was the last thing I said I’d do. Everything I just considered moments before my father arrived, about telling her I love her, goes up in a puff of smoke.
I’m far too vulnerable, unsure, and dejected to confess my feelings. What if I go off to New York City and she decides she doesn’t want me either? I’ll be utterly alone.
Something in me begins to crack; the pressure I’ve dealt with my entire life seems to have gone, but in its place comes a whole new set of expectations.