His Father
“I heard you met Natalie’s father yesterday.” I knew this would be what he wanted to ask me when he told me he would be home for the next few days. I found my father near the kitchen when I was about to head out.
I met his gaze and nodded in confirmation. “Yes, I did,” I replied.
“He called me right after you left.” He added.
“I had something I had to ask,” I told him.
“I knew.” He said.
“Look, there are things I want you to remember,” he continued, his tone firm, yet I could feel the affection.
“Your place belongs here, at the Aswara Group. Even when you end up with Natalie, I still want you at the company, not anywhere else, not even Formula One. Two years is enough for you. It’s time for you to come back.” He had a way of reminding me of my place in the family business, of subtly nudging me towards the family business.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself before responding. “I know what I’m doing, and you don’t have to keep reminding me where I belong,” I stated firmly.
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There were things that I did not particularly like about my father, one of them was he kept reminding me of my place. I will go back to the family business eventually, and I know that Formula One wasn’t the place I want to settle for the rest of my life.
“I have never forgotten what you told me when you visited me in London,” I added.
He shifted his gaze onto my eyes, “Any progress with Natalie?” he asked, his voice laced with anticipation. “Fill me in,” he continued, motioning for me to sit.
A slight sigh escaped my lips as I prepared myself to share a bit of it, though some of me wished to keep this aspect of my life private.
“I just took her on a second date. “You won’t be hearing much about it,” I added, emphasizing that I do not want to share much. Talking about my love life with my parents was never the topic I would like to discuss — it sometimes feels weird that they know some part of it. As much as I love them, there are certain things that I don’t want them to know — one of them is my love life.
My father’s eyebrows arched in disbelief, casting doubt on my ability to progress with Natalie. “No progress at all?”
“Well, I just met her. What do you expect?” His expression offended me as he questioned my ability to initiate more intimate connections between two adults.
His next question hit me like a blow. “Not even holding hands?” he asked.
But then, he took it a step further. “Do you want me to teach you?” he offered, perhaps out of concern that I couldn’t proceed more effectively even when we were friends. But this is different. I was the one who had feelings for her, and she did not. The transition between friendship, strangers (for a bit, even when I won’t say that we are strangers — we just parted ways for some time), and now to more than a friendship between a guy and girl — if I manage to succeed.
This is it. This is the cue I should have left before this conversation happened. I won’t talk about my love life; my father shouldn’t know anything about Natalie and me further.
“I’m done talking about this,” I said as I left the room.
