“No, I really don't have a plan. I mean, there are certain things I want to do like write a novel, but in terms of where I want my life to be, I am not so sure.”
Mr. Tate stares at me, shaking his head.
“I know that you did not grow up with a father, son, but let me give you a little piece of advice,” Mr. Tate says, after a moment. “You should always have a five-year plan, a three-year plan, and a one-year plan. Without goals you do not know where your life is going. Without goals, you will just drift along and one of these days you will find yourself at fifty wondering what the hell happened.
“If there are certain things that you want to achieve, you have to go after them. And you have to be willing to take out anyone who stands in your way.”
"Is that what you did?” I ask.
“You can bet on it,” he says sternly. “It's the only way that I would have gotten where I am. I don't know what Aurora has told you about us, but we both come from very humble beginnings.”
“Yes, she mentioned that,” I say.
“I was born on a dirt street and Gwen grew up with her grandparents, because her mother had her at fifteen. Some people would hide these facts, but we are proud of where we came from and how little we had. When we bought our first radio station, we spent our last cent on it and then went into debt for another hundred thousand. Our competitors thought that we were insane, but a year later we bought another one and another one. We knew back then that in order to protect ourselves, we had to spread our risk around. That way when one or two failed, which they almost always did, we would have others that didn’t.”
“That sounds like a sound plan,” I agree.
“My daughter here, is a lot like you,” Mr. Tate continues. “She doesn't have much of a plan for the future. She's getting her PhD in popular fiction, whatever the hell that is, and for whatever reason, I do not know. It feels a lot like she's just waiting around for something to happen.”
"You know I'm right here, Daddy,” Aurora says. “You don't have to talk about me as if I'm not.”
“I know you're here, honey. I'm just not sure that you ever listen to me.”
She resists the temptation to roll her eyes, finally succumbing but only a little bit.
“But Aurora is my daughter and as a result she has certain advantages that you did not,” Mr. Tate says. “She will always have money and she will always have prospects, even if she chooses not to use them.”
“Just because I am not interested in working for Tate Media at the moment,” Aurora says, “doesn’t mean that it is not something I might want to do in the future.”
"Wake up, Aurora,” Mr. Tate says. “The future is now. You are twenty-five years old. In five years, you will be thirty. Do you know where I was when I was thirty? Do you know where your mother was when she was thirty?”
"Things are different nowadays, Daddy,” Aurora says.
“Yes, unfortunately, I have noticed a change. There used to be a time when you were an adult at eighteen. But now days, everyone seems to be a kid until they're forty.”
“Anyway,” Mr. Tate says, turning his attention back to me. “Whatever may be Aurora's shortcomings, she's my daughter and she will always be well taken care of. You, on the other hand, will have to learn how to stand on your own two feet.”
I clench my fists to subdue the anger.
"Well, I do work for a living, fifty hours a week. During the school year, often more than that. I don't get paid much, but that's the reality of being a teacher. And in the summers, I work sixty, often seventy hours a week at the yacht club, bartending, and cleaning boats like yours, doing whatever it takes.”
“Don't get me wrong, Henry. I am not saying that you are not a hard worker. I know that you actually work very hard, a lot harder than some people in this room.” Mr. Tate winks at Aurora who doesn't find the joke particularly funny.
“All that I am saying is that to succeed in this world you have to be both a hard worker and a smart worker. You don't want to be one of those chumps out there working hard, doing backbreaking labor for twenty years, and then taking opiates to deal with the pain, and cutting your life short. No, you have to think for yourself. Whatever it is that you want, you have to go after it. No one else is going to do it for you. Do you understand?”
I take a deep breath and look deep into his eyes.
“Yes,” I say. “I do understand.”
As soon as we get outside, Aurora grabs my hand and apologizes profusely over and over again.
“I can't believe that my dad went on that tirade with you,” she says. “I'm so, so sorry.”
“No, that's okay, it was actually very interesting to talk to him.”
“Oh, come on,” she says, waving her hands and rolling her eyes. “You can't be serious?”
I shrug and tilt my head. "I've never talked to anyone about this before. But I think he's right. I mean, maybe I am wasting my time. Teaching is not something I want to do, so why the hell am I even there?”
“It's a good job and an honorable profession.”
“Yes, that’s true if you are passionate about it.”
“You're just letting my dad get to you,” Aurora says, tossing her hair. “You can’t listen to him.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, “he is right. I do need a five-year plan, or at least a one-year plan. I mean, looking forward, what are my goals for the year? What do I want to accomplish? Where do I wanna be this time next year? Maybe I need to ask myself these questions so I can finally get what I want.”
13
Aurora
The following morning, my mother insists on meeting with me again for breakfast. They are going to Montana later today on their private jet for a few weeks, just to get away from everything. They do this every summer, and this is the third one that I have skipped.
I love it out there – the wilderness, the big blue skies, and the solitude - are amazing. But when my parents are in the state, all of the oxygen seems to be sucked out of it.
“So, what did you think of Henry?” I ask when the waiter brings us our croissants. I don’t want to be here but she insists until I don’t have a choice.
Mom is having a mimosa, but it is a little bit too early for a vodka for me.
“I think he's a very nice boy, Aurora. But he's not a very good fit for you.”
I shake my head, averting my eyes.
“What made me think that she would ever give me a different answer?” I wonder.
“I just worry that you do not know your worth,” my mom adds.
I shake my head again and cross my arms.
“Please don't look at me that way,” she continues.
“Like what?”
"Like I am telling you something that you are actually surprised to hear. Is the only reason you are seeing him is to punish us for something?”
I stare at her. She really is the most self-centered person I’ve ever met.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“Of course not.”