“No idea. I hope it’s still successful and customers still like our product. But I avoid thinking about the future as much. I focus on being the best I can be in the moment. If you work hard, there should always be a future. But what that future will be exactly is always unknown.”
She made a note in response to what I said. “Do you plan to hand this company to your son one day?”
“Or daughter,” I added.
Her eyes changed slightly, like that response meant something to her.
“I don’t have a family and I’m not sure if I ever will, but if I do and they want it, of course. But my sister may want the same thing, and she’s just as entitled to it.”
“But you want it to stay in the family? You don’t intend to sell or outsource a CEO?”
I shook my head. “No one is going to care about a company more than someone whose name is on the door. The best way to invest long-term success is to have someone who sees it as a legacy, sees that it’s more than just money. So, no, I intend to keep it in the family as long as possible.”
“And if neither you nor your sister has descendants?”
“She’ll definitely have kids. Her dream is to be a mother.”
“And is your dream to be a father?”
I studied her face, wondering if she was asking these questions for her article or for personal reasons. “Dream is too strong of a word. I’m open to the idea. When I was married, I always assumed we would have children. But now, I can’t picture myself getting remarried, so I’m not sure how that would work.”
She nodded but didn’t make a note.
“What about you?”
She regarded me, an eyebrow slightly raised. “Meaning?”
“Do you want a family someday?” She used to be so closed off from me that I couldn’t get a word out of her, but now that we were friends and her attitude was different, I could actually get to know her in a way I couldn’t before. It was ironic that she was more giving after I betrayed her, but not before. My lies pushed her away, but once we weren’t involved, she didn’t see me as a threat anymore…so she shared her life with me.
“Not really. With my job, it’s just not feasible. I’m put on assignments with twenty-four hours’ notice, and then I’m gone for an extended period of time. Not sure what kind of life I could provide to a little person in that scenario.”
“Well, there’d be a man in the picture, right?”
She shrugged. “If I were going to do the whole mom thing, I’d want to do it, you know? Not push it on my partner. But my sister will have kids, so I don’t need to worry about it. Besides, being a fun aunt is way better than being a mom.”
In the limited time I’d known her, it was obvious how passionate she was about her work. She took it seriously, like it was a calling rather than just a paycheck. “When did you know you wanted to be a journalist?”
“I’ve always known.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. When I was in high school, I was the editor of my paper for four years in a row. When I graduated, it was at a time when newspapers were losing revenue and income as a writer was less realistic, but that didn’t change my decision to pursue it. I knew I’d have to work even harder to get the job I wanted. But now I have it. Sure, ten years ago, I would be making twice as much, but that’s just how it goes.”
“What is it about the job that you’re so passionate about?”
She considered the question for a long time.
“What would make you put your life on the line in Iraq? What would make you chase down a criminal in an alleyway?”
Her gaze turned back to me. “The truth.”
I watched her eyes soften with sincerity.
“Preserving the truth of the world. Tell people what’s really happening. Documenting it for generations to come. If I weren’t sent to Iraq, all our information for that story would have come from other sources, which makes it biased. If you really want to get to the core of a situation, you need to witness it yourself. I know I’m not a doctor or a firefighter, but I think my job is pretty important. The media has the ability to completely dictate our way of life. It’s pretty important…at least, I think so.”
“It is important. It must be if you think your life is worth it.”
She shrugged. “We’re all gonna die sometime, right? Personally, I’d rather die young than when I’m old with some disease or inability to remember who I am.”
“There’s a lot of years in between that, though. The golden years can be a wonderful time…before the end.”
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally. “Enough about me.”
“You’re far more interesting than I am.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not some sexy billionaire with the world at his feet…”
“That’s not interesting. Boring, if you ask me.”
She released a laugh. “If you’re bored with a life in the fast lane, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Grass is always greener on the other side…” I’d been living this life a long time, and the older I became, the less it meant to me. I’d always been financially secure, while everyone else was out hustling for a better life, investing their time and energy into that dream. But since I was already there, I realized the things that really brought joy weren’t tangible like money. Instead, it was conversations, connections, people. Spending time with Carson and her friends gave me a kind of simplicity that I found exhilarating. It was peaceful…easy. I wished I could have it again. “What else are you working on right now?”
“Just a few smaller pieces. You can’t hit a home run every single time.”
“Makes sense.”
“You think I could get some photos that would reflect the family values of the company? Perhaps your childhood home? Something like that?”
“I grew up in the city, but we had a house in Connecticut where we spent a lot of time.”
“Did you sell it when your parents passed?”
“Actually, no. It’s still there. I just haven’t visited in a long time.” I felt ashamed to go back, not after the way I’d dishonored the family name.
“Well, is that something you’re open to?”
I could have said no, but I didn’t want to decline an opportunity to spend time with her. The world went still whenever we were together. Despite the disastrous way we ended, it felt like things were better now than they used to be. “Yes.”
“Great. We’ll take a drive. Maybe your sister can come along. I should interview her too.”
“Not a bad idea.”
She held her pen and scribbled notes into the notebook before she grabbed the recorder and turned it off.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She hooked the recorder on to the necklace around her throat before she closed her notebook.
“When did your parents pass away?” I felt like I could ask her anything I wanted, and instead of wanting to know less now that we weren’t together, I wanted to know more.
“Pretty young. Denise and I had just become adults.”
My father’s death was still relatively recent, so it hurt all the time. “May I ask how they passed?”