“Bo!” my mom said in a sharp tone. I quickly stopped myself. I knew how antsy she gets whenever I mentioned Calvin’s name.
“I’m sorry. I’m kind of in a weird place right now,” I apologized. “Forgive me.”
To my horror, my mother merely began to cry.
“I don’t know why this has happened,” she sobbed. “I always thought you were such a good boy, but things became so twisted between you and your father. Please, just come and talk to him.”
I sigh. It’s always been hard to say no to my mom, and Carol looked especially defeated at the moment. Even her gray curls seemed limp, and her skin was pale and waxy.
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” My mom let out a loud sniffle and a half-smile. “Mom,” I add in a warning tone. “I said I’ll think about it. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
“Thank you, Beauregard,” she breathed. “Paul will appreciate it. How’s your writing going, by the way? Are you getting a lot done? You know that your father and I have always been so proud of your success.”
I snort a bit rudely. Paul never supported my career choices, and it was only after I made my first million that he seemed to come around. But by then it was too late, and the disdain of his first words echoes in my ears. I put it out of my mind for the moment. It’s never good to think ill of a dying man, especially if he’s your father.
“The writing’s not going great,” I responded curtly. “I came to the cabin in Timberline, thinking the isolation would help me.”
Mom’s eyes widen.
“But it’s so secluded! Actually, are you safe, honey? I’m always afraid the electricity will get cut off if there’s a storm.”
“I’m fine, Mom. I have a back-up generator, and I’ve been here plenty of times before in bad weather. I know what to do.”
She nods, her faded blue eyes still worried.
“Alright then. I’ll be sure to tell your father that you’ll maybe be coming to spend some time with him before…” Even though I hate Paul, I have to acknowledge that Carol loves him and that I love her. Having someone you have loved all your life – despite their issues and flaws – about to leave you must be heartbreaking. On some level, I envy my parents’ relationship, even if it’s become warped over the years they’ve been together. For some reason, Carol just accepts Paul’s cruelty, and always tries to make excuses for him. But that’s neither here nor there at the moment, and I wave goodbye at the screen.
“Bye, Mom,” I say gently. “I’ll come and visit soon, okay?”
She nods eagerly.
“Bye now, honey. Take care of yourself. Love you.”
After the call ended, I sat there for a moment of silence in my office. Families are never easy to manage and the Nielsens are harder than most. Yet, my mom will always be my mom and my dad will always be my dad. Calvin, however … They say that pain is the ultimate motivator of genius, especially in writing, and with that, I turned to my screen with renewed vigor and determination. I don’t know if the saying is true or not; I just know that I’m in pain.
5
Haley
* * *
I lugged my little bag and my larger suitcase to the guest room. Looking around, it wasn’t bad. The space was cozy and quaint with a four-poster bed with a colorful quilt on top. A rocking chair was squeezed in one corner, and a full-length mirror gleamed at me from across the way. Surprisingly, the room was clean too, which was unexpected given the condition of the rest of the cabin. It was, however, evident that nobody had been inside in a while.
I sat on the bed, bouncing a bit on the soft feather mattress. “Nice,” I murmured. Then, I spied the small door on the side leading to the bathroom. Wow, a bathroom all to myself? That was the ultimate luxury. But it also reminded me that I was here courtesy of a huge and very grumpy man.
“That asshole just sees me as a maid,” I muttered. Regardless, it was just for one night, and then I’d leave tomorrow. I can handle this.
Sighing, I got up and decided to take a shower. I was grimy from my drive, and I could feel damp patches of hair from the melting snowflakes that had landed on my curls. Fumbling through my suitcase, I grabbed a couple things and then entered the bathroom. It was small, but immaculately clean. The color, as expected, was white, and everything was incredibly tiny, almost doll-sized, but usable. I stepped into the miniature stall, gasping as the cold water stung my skin, but fortunately it quickly turned hot. Then I luxuriated a bit, washing my hair and sudsing up with a rose-scented soap I brought. It’s the small luxuries that make the difference sometimes, especially when it comes to dealing with grumpy bosses.