A week later

It had been some time since I’d accepted the honor and responsibility of the Montgomery lordship. My father still was recovering in the hospital, and I had returned to work. I found peace in the monotonous business of employment, taking solace in the tedious efforts I put forth, keeping things afloat. It was satisfying to start a project, make progress, and maybe even finish it. I was enjoying it, to say the least.

Though, every time I felt a sense of enjoyment or contentment, the dread and guilt soon followed. I was only here, doing this work, because of my father’s illness. It was as if I wasn’t allowed to enjoy the privileges I had because of the way I had gotten there. I hadn’t anticipated feeling so lost, now that I’d assumed his role. I was still lucky, though. My father often called me, as he was still able to from the hospital, and gave me advice and guidance, as if he were in the office with me. Of course, I always kept the subject matter light, never allowing the stress of the day to day life infiltrate through our conversations. I always got the sense that he enjoyed our talks though, and I wondered if they brought back some sense of normalcy to him. He had always been doing this work, for years and years, and it probably was more stressful for him not to be working. At least, I hoped. I lived in constant fear of upsetting him and jeopardizing his health.

The fear of his discovery of my secret waned as the time passed. Granted, it hadn’t been long, and the fear was still fresh, but with each passing day, it weakened. If he hadn't found out by now, then maybe he never would. And then, when he came home from the hospital, I could tell him. Over dinner. And several glasses of wine.

I remembered what he had said to me when he first woke up. The very first thing he had to make sure he spoke aloud before anything else? Ensuring I still was going to be Prime Minister. A part of me wondered if his entire will to live, his determination to survive, was based on the idea that he might get to see me become Prime Minister. I gulped. The odds that he had more than ten years left weren’t great, and I only wished I could fulfill this dream for him. I wanted to give him that more than anything in the world – and I wanted to become PRime Minister for myself, too – but I had turned down this deal of a lifetime. FGranted, it came with some strings, but what didn't?

Every time I spoke with my father, either on the WaComm or in person, I wondered if I’d made the right call, denying them. Should I really have burned that bridge? Could I live with disappointing my father like that, knowing he would never see me even get the chance to become PRime Minister? Because even if I was able to campaign at the next election, more than a decade from now, how likely is it that he would be there to know? Would it be enough for me to trade my father’s love for a woman I barely knew?

The guilt grew and grew inside of me. I spent my evenings at the hospital, spending time with my father, making the most of things. Sometimes I’d bring him dinner, always approved by the nurses first, and eat it with him. I was planning on doing that today, after I finished up at the office here.

I sat at my desk, eyeing the time on my wallscreen. I wasn’t quite yet ready to leave, but I was anxious to. I still had a lot of work to accomplish, but my father had expressly wished to speak to me this evening. He had told me the night before to bring dinner, and that he had something he wanted to talk to me about. He didn’t mention what it was though; I only hoped it was something of little consequence. I couldn’t handle much more drama at the moment.

My WaComm clicked, notifying me of an incoming message. I checked it to see who it was.

Alyss?

Surprised, I answered.

She greeted me with her soft, honey voice. “Hello Torven, this is Alyss,” she said. “How are you doing?”

“Uh, I’m fine,” I said. This was the first time I’d spoken to her since I’d denied her father the deal, and consequently, her. “Yourself?”

“I’m well, thank you. I, er, heard about your father. My sympathies – and I wish for a speedy recovery.”

“Um, thank you,” I said, still puzzled. Why was she calling me? Just to pass on her well wishes? “I’ll tell him.”

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She paused before speaking again. “Torven, may I ask something of you?”

Here we go – the real reason for the call. I braced myself, preparing for what, I didn’t know. “Of course.”

“I would like to see you in person, sometime soon. As friends, I promise. Would you mind meeting me for dinner?”

I blinked. She wanted to see me? What was it she had to talk to me about in person that she couldn’t’ do over the WaComm? “Uh, okay,” I agreed.

Was it a smart move to agree to see her? Probably not. Was I dying to know what she had to say? Absolutely.

“Alright then. How about tomorrow, seven ‘o’ clock?”

“Sure,” I said. “Wanna go to the Watercrest?”

The WAtercrest was a five-star restaurant in the middle of the city center, comprising an entire three floors in one of the tallest skyscrapers, overlooking the entire city. It was a place that a lord should go for dinner, and a place that Alyss deserved to be treated with. And, in going to a restaurant as prestigious as this, ensured that Alyss will be on her best behavior. I didn’t know what she was going to tell me, but if she was planning on making a scene, I hoped this would be enough to deter her.

“Oh, sounds lovely,” she said. “I’ll see you there.”

The call ended, leaving me bewildered and intrigued.

~

I arrived at my father’s hospital room not long after, dinner from a local restaurant with approved items in hand. The bag was heavy, my arm a little sore from carrying it all the way from the car and through the hospital. I knocked on his door before opening it.

“Hey, my son’s here,” he said, actively on a call. “I’ll call you later.” He ended it, pressing the WaComm down onto the bedside table next to him.

He looked much better with each day, though he still looked as if death had warmed over.

“Who was that?” I asked. “Work?”

“The machine never stops, Torven, you know that,” he said. “It was [VP]. Wanted to know some last minute details about a report. I took care of it.”

“You really should let me do that kind of thing,” I said, placing the bag on the table next to him, getting it ready for us to eat. “You’re supposed to be resting. I can take care of it.”

“I know that,” he said, reaching for a fork I’d brought. “But I still like to feel useful once in a while.”

I chuckled. “Don’t I know it.” I retrieved each of our meals from the bag, carefully placing them in front of us. “You’ve never stopped.”

Ralen smiled; the ease of our banter was something I’d never quite experienced with him before. He was always all business, even when he spoke to me, before his health problems. I’d always wondered if he truly cared for me, when I was younger, and now it seemed he was trying to make up for lost time. I’d never resented him for the lack of affectionate and kind words, growing up, because it was all I’d ever known. All my friends’ fathers were like that too; it seemed to be something about being a [lord]. People except the highest of propriety from you at all times, even towards your children. It was almost odd to see him like this, though I must admit I had been truly enjoying his company. He was like an entirely different man, I thought. Where before he had been stern with high expectations, now he was excited for the possibility of my future. It was as if all of his hard work had paid off, and now he was enjoying the ride. Of course, he was living through me and my hard work, but Didn’t mind.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, the topic that had been on my mind all day.

He took a bite, chewing it thoughtfully and intentionally before answering. “I wanted to congratulate you, son. I know I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” I said, shocked. If he had said that to me much before, it was never the amount of compassion and love that I was hearing from his voice. “For what?”

“For putting your personal life aside to sacrifice for the greater good. For understanding what’s best for Aruga. Following through with the deal I helped forge with Aruga United Tech. I know it’s a lot to ask of a young man, just on the cusp of the rest of his life… but I trust in you. I believe in you. I know you’ll always do what's right.”

I was speechless. He continued to speak, while I sat there, silent. Each word was like a stab, each sentence a bleeding wound he unknowingly inflicted on me, each syllable a slice in the form of a well-intentioned compliment.

“…all I’ve ever wanted is to see my son become Prime Minister, like I never could. And now, with all of the work we both have put in, it’ll be within reach. I’d given up a lot to pull this together, you know. Used a lot of favors, pulled a lot of strings. But it’s all been worth it.”

I blinked, my mouth falling open. I’d forgotten I was supposed to be eating, forgot everything except the guilt that threatened overflow inside of me. I was the worst son on the planet.

He looked up at me, his eyes welling up with pride, his smile barely concealed. “Son, I’ve been waiting for this for years. I know I don’t have much time left – don’t bother to tell me otherwise – and I’m glad it’s happening now. At the risk of sounding dramatic, it’s my last wish for you.”

Well, fuck.