Page 38 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“If you’re not the best in the classroom, field, and at work,” he continues, “you’re nothing. Remember that.”

“You don’t let me forget,” I say sarcastically.

Easton thankfully interrupts the fun conversation.

“Are you staying home for good now, Mase?”

I run a hand over his head. “Sadly, no. But I promise I’ll come visit every chance I get, okay?”

I smile down at him, even knowing that’s a lie. I want to avoid this place. I want a future somewhere else. I still want them in it, and I don’t know how to do that when what I want is to run as far away from this place as possible.

They’re so young. Every time I have to leave them, my heart breaks. They deserve someone here growing up who’s presentand cares about them. I know Rose loves her sons, but she’s gone just as much as my dad. They’re being raised by nannies and butlers now that I’m at college, and I hate it.

After dinner, I help get the boys tucked into their beds and promise to spend the whole weekend doing whatever they want before I have to leave again. Then I end up sitting on the floor outside their door until I hear their laughter and talking fade into a silence that makes me miss their voices instantly.

I pull myself up and walk down the hall to the room my mom used to stay in by herself, the one that’s been stripped of all the memories of her. I slip in and lie down on top of the perfectly tucked comforter, staring up at the ceiling.

I miss my mom so much it physically hurts some days. Some days, my mind drags me down into the pit of pain and holds me there, relentless in its efforts to break me. I wish she were still here. I wish I had someone on my side who built me up and didn’t constantly look for ways to tear me down. I so badly want to not care what he says to me or thinks about me, but it’s fucking hard not to care. And Rose is no better than him, just another one of my dad’s puppets. She’s nice, but she’ll never go against my dad. She’d never stand up for me when he gets too harsh, when his demands get to be too much. My mom always stood up for me. No matter what my dad said or did, she made sure I knew how wrong he was about me.

I just wish I could hear her voice again. I wish I could hug her. I wish she could be here to see the man I’m turning into. I want to be someone she can be proud of. I don’t want to be a failure to her.

The tears fall on their own, and they catch me by surprise when I feel them hit my arm. I never cry, haven’t since she died, other than angry tears with my dad. Crying and all that emotional shit isn’t allowed around here. Any feelings that show weakness are something you’re taught to keep inside. But I don’tcare tonight. I just miss my damn mom…and I hate my dad. I don’t want to be anything like him, yet I feel like my biggest fear of being just that might come true, whether I want it to or not.

I end up falling asleep in there without meaning to, and I’m woken up by the curtains being slung back and my dad’s voice rumbling through the room.

“Get your ass up, Mason,” he says flatly. “I told you to set an alarm, and you can’t even do that. How are you supposed to keep a job, show up for clients, or run a damn business when you can’t even get up off your ass on time?”

I pull my arms down from where they were resting behind my head and try to stretch the stiffness out. I feel heavy and exhausted—from shitty sleep and crying most of the night.

“Can I get a damn response, son? Am I talking to the wall?”

I prop myself up on my elbows and stare at him. “My alarm was set.” I look down just as my phone goes off.

My dad just rolls his eyes. “Get up and get dressed. I’m leaving in 30 minutes.”

I’m still yawning as he walks out of the room aggressively, and I just plop back down on the bed for a moment, trying to mentally prepare myself to live up to his expectations today.

I rub the back of my neck as I walk into the garage, where my dad is waiting in one of his Mercedes. The suit he had waiting in my room for me feels suffocating even though it isn’t tight.

I slide into the passenger seat and shut the door without saying anything, already ready for this day to be over with.

“Fix your posture. You look like shit.” He stares over at me with disdain. “You’re a man now, act like it. Show the world who you are without having to say anything.”

The fuck does that even mean?

I sit up a little straighter, but still slouch enough not to be his little soldier.

“When are you going to get a haircut, son? You look like a homeless surfer boy and not a businessman. That shaggy mess might work in college, but you won’t be taken seriously anywhere around here with it.”

I just give him a nod and hum in response as I look out the window.

We pull up to a high-rise building in the city, with glass windows, valet parking, and every inch designed to scream wealth. We both get out of the car, and he tosses the keys to the valet as we walk in and head up to the floor where we’ll be meeting with Rick, who is the head of the intern program here.

“We’re all excited to have a Sinclair shadowing this summer,” Rick says. “We’ll make sure you learn the ropes—property portfolios, investments, client relations, all the things. Big shoes to fill, huh?”

I nod. “Yeah, pretty big.”

My dad nudges my arm and gives me a look that tells me I need to drop the shit attitude and try to impress this man, as if I care about any of this.