Throughout the room, massive black and white photos played on hanging screens. The pictures all featured various moments from the CEO’s past: He was standing in front of a small white glider at twenty-one years old, tinkering with plane engines and putting together model airplanes with his only son in his thirties, and sitting in a boardroom while starting his own airline at age fifty.
To add to the nostalgic effect, the screens also featured some of Elite’s best headlines, and my blood boiled as if I was reading them all for the first time. I could still vividly remember exactly where I was when each of the stories first appeared in the papers. It was how I kept up with my fucked up family throughout the years, letting the black ink of the press leave bread crumbs the entire way.
As the the final headline and the words, “Nathaniel C. Pearson, CEO of Elite Airways, Credits ‘Family Values’ for the Airline’s Stunning Success,” I felt the same way I did when I was only seventeen years old. When I finally realized that the beloved leader of this airline, my father, was a fucking fraud.
The crowd stood to its feet and applauded loudly—some clinked their cutlery against champagne glasses. As the applause reached deafening levels, my father stepped onto the stage, smiling at his flock of sheep.
I didn’t clap once.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” His deep and ugly voice calmed the room. “I’d like to personally thank all of you for coming out tonight. Before we unveil the design of our newest aircraft, I want to let you know how honored I am that our family has grown to thirty-eight-thousand employees who serve more than three hundred destinations!”
More applause.
“My only regret is that my first wife, a woman who poured her heart and soul into helping me achieve everything, couldn’t be here to see this tonight. Her final words to me were full of hope and loyalty, the two values I’ve built the foundation of this airline upon. She said she wanted me to keep dreaming, to keep believing, and to build the greatest airline my mind could ever imagine. She and our only son, Evan, have inspired me to continue pursuing the very best in aviation innovation. And several years ago, the three of us…”
The lies dropped from his mouth so convincingly, that I almost believed he only had one son, that I wasn’t really standing in this room. And if it weren’t for the photo-shopped pictures of him and Evan hanging around the room, I might’ve questioned if my memories were real after all.
I kept my eyes on him and his three-thousand-dollar suit, wondering how often he’d had to rehearse this speech to make it sound genuine. If he’d ever stumbled over the sickening twists and turns, if he’d ever found himself waking up in the middle of the night just like I did.
As he spoke of his make-believe past, true memories of him fastening me inside a small, white cargo plane suddenly flashed in front of my eyes. It wasn’t him and Evan in that field flying or tinkering with planes. It was me. Only me. Evan was always far away, in the back of a pickup truck or left back at home, consumed with a new math workbook.
“Now, for the main event!” My father bellowed into the mic and pointed across the room. “If you would all kindly direct your attention to the left for the unveiling of our new 747-Dreamliner!”
I stood still and stared at him as everyone else looked away.
I heard the sound of a drumroll, a collective gasp, and then loud, thunderous applause as the plane was revealed.
“Those of you who are sitting, feel free to get out of your seats and take a closer look,” he said amidst more applause. “I’ll be sure to finish the rest of my speech before we leave, no worries.”
The crowd laughed, and at once stood up from their seats to walk over for a better look. I took one last look at him and decided I needed to leave. Now.
I pushed my way through the guests and headed toward the exit. When I was halfway there, I felt someone tapping my shoulder from behind.
Turning around, I found myself face to face with my ex-wife—the person I hated only slightly less than my father and brother.
“Hey, Jake,” she said, stepping closer to me. “Long time, no see…Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you remember me?”
“I’ve been trying hard to forget.” I glanced at her badge. “Did you somehow pick up the wrong nametag or are you still fucking with people’s minds with your games?”
“No.” She forced a smile and spoke low. “I’m Samantha now, Jake. Samantha.”
“Bullshit.” Her real name was Riley, Riley Cartwright, and she looked as if she was frozen in time from when we’d last met. She was still wearing her blond hair cut short in a way that complemented her brown eyes, she was the epitome of what ‘untrustworthy’ in the flesh looked like. And no matter how many times I tried to rationalize what she’d done, or attempted to placate the past with one of our softer, high school memories, my hatred of her would probably never be erased.
“How have you been after all these years?” she asked.
“Are you referring to the years before you told everyone in Missouri I was abusing you or after? Or maybe you’re referring to the years after I caught you sucking—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” She clenched her jaw. “Don’t you dare…And you did abuse me, Jake. I was mentally abused by your lack of care, your constant traveling, and your failure to give me what I wanted.”
“You got upset with me because I filed for divorce, and then you told the police I’d previously beat you in the face with a tire jack. That’s physical abuse, and it was a goddamn lie.”
“Right, well…” She smiled, fake as usual. “I think enough time has passed for you to be nice to me and get over us drifting apart.”
“You almost cost me my fucking career, Riley,” I said. “That’s not drifting apart.”
“Jake—”
“You even got my brother to believe your lies…I know how you got my father to believe you, but how did you get Evan to? Did he get the same present, courtesy of your throat?”
“Jake, I swear to God—”
“Jake?” My father suddenly stepped between us. “Jake, is that really you?”
“You know exactly who the fuck it is.”
His eyes widened and he forced a smile for an intrusive camera man who snapped a quick picture. As soon as the photographer walked away, he looked at me and cleared his throat. “You look good, son.”
“I thought you only had one son. That guy ‘Evan’ in the photos up there.”
“Yes, well…” A look of sadness crossed his face, but he changed the subject. “I couldn’t believe it when Human Resources told me you actually signed the transfer papers. I’m quite honored and surprised that you’ve agreed to work for my airline.”
“You shouldn’t be. You keep buying and investing in every single airline I switch to. I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Jake.”
“I’m sure your first wife would disagree.”
He shifted uneasily, and his smile slightly slipped as the flashes of cameras continue to sound around the room. I tried to look him right in the eye, to finally see him as a human being, but all I could see was a heartless monster who was willing to sacrifice anything for his own dreams, no matter the cost.