Crossed Desires

Brat I lower my head, and sometimes, like on this occasion, I feel a bit of pity for him, but it fades the moment I think of my mother. 'Son, how long are you going to keep throwing that in my face?' my father says. Oh, so he wants me not to tell him the truth to his face? Well, screw him. He didn't care about me or my mother. 'Always. Better get used to it,' I reply. He takes a deep breath, as if tired. He wants me not to remind him, but it's impossible. I will never forget, because he hurt my mother while she was sick, and now he thinks I should feel sorry for him? No way. Love is earned, and he never earned it. What does he expect from me now? Everything I have, I have thanks to my grandparents, not to him. I owe him nothing. 'Son...' he says.  He grabs my arm, and I push it away. He keeps talking, changing the subject to avoid continuing the argument. 'I just saw Carla, Henry's daughter, coming out of your apartment. Are you seeing her?' he says hopefully, with a wide smile. 'If so, let me tell you, I'm very proud of you,' he adds happily. I didn't even know she was Henry's daughter. Had I known, I wouldn't have touched her even the first time. I just hope this doesn't cause me problems in the future. I answer him reluctantly. 'First of all, I had no idea she was Henry's daughter. Second, don't get your hopes up. I don't have a relationship with her, nor do I want one. It was just for pleasure, and that was the last time. Nothing more,' I say with annoyance. His joyful face vanishes, replaced by one of displeasure. 'Brat, don't make me angry. She's the daughter of one of the company's biggest investors. It's in our best interest to strengthen ties with them. Besides, she's an only child. You're not the only one who has sacrificed things, you know that. It benefits us all. If the shares merge, we'd control nearly eighty percent of the company, and that's too advantageous to ignore,' he says. Well, let him get angry all he wants. I'm not going to get involved with her-not for the company's shares, not for all the gold in the world. I won't repeat his mistake: marrying my mother without loving her and turning her life into hell because he never made her happy as she deserved. 'No. Don't count on me. I'm not getting involved with anyone,' I tell him. He gets angry, and I can see the disappointment in his face. But I couldn't care less if he's disappointed in me. He should already know I don't live to please anyone. 'You're stupid. Don't you realize this isn't about you? It's about the future of the company,' he says. As if I care. He thinks he can bribe me with that. He can shove his precious shares where the sun doesn't shine. 'Yes, I realize it. But I don't want to. I like being free and doing whatever I please,' I answer. Does he really think I'm going to get involved with someone I don't want, just for a bunch of damn shares? Never. 'It's not about what you want. It's about what's convenient. You marry her, get her pregnant, and later love-or whatever you want to call it-will come. If not, you can go on doing whatever you want, as long as you keep it discreet, of course,' he says. And that's why I hate him. He doesn't give a damn about me. All he cares about is the damn money and what it represents. 'Just like you did with Mother, right?' I shoot back. And he goes silent, lowering his head, because he knows I'm not lying. More than anyone, he should know the damage that caused. He hurt my mother, he hurt me, and himself. And now he wants me to do the same to someone else. He's a man without scruples. That's why I am the way I am with him, though nobody understands me. They think I'm rude, but they don't know him like I do. 'I don't want to argue with you,' he says tensely. Of course, he doesn't want me throwing the truth in his face. 'Just think about it-it's for the good of the company, which is also your legacy and that of your children,' he adds. Since he can't convince me, he goes that route, knowing damn well I don't care. 'Yeah, right. You're always blackmailing me with the same thing, and I'm sick of it,' I say. The doorbell rings. I open it-it's Miguel and Jon. I let them in, ask if they want something to drink. They say no and greet my father. 'Good evening. Sorry we're late, but I had a lot of work,' Miguel says. Jon smiles when he notices my father and greets him warmly, just like him. Jon has always been the most charismatic of the three of us. In all the time we've been friends, I've never had an argument with him. 'Good evening, Mr. Guren,' Jon says. Jon broadens his smile-he's always been the most easygoing of us three. 'Good evening, boys. Going out to have some fun?' my father asks. He's excited to see my friends, since it's been a while. 'Yes, sir,' they both reply at the same time. They shake hands and hug, while I'm thinking we should be leaving already. 'Good. I'm glad,' my father replies, then turns to Miguel. 'Brat tells me you have a girlfriend and that you're very much in love.' Here we go again with the same topic. I'm sick of it. Why don't the two of them marry each other and leave me alone? 'Yes, sir. I have a girlfriend. She's beautiful, and I'm very much in love,' Miguel answers. This conversation isn't to my liking. I know soon they'll drag me into it. 'That's wonderful. I'm glad. Maybe you could give Brat some advice-help him follow in your footsteps,' my father says. I knew it. Every time this topic comes up, it always comes back to me, like it's a sin not to want to marry. It doesn't surprise me. I take a deep breath, enduring the conversation. Miguel laughs and looks at me-he knows this isn't for me. Then he replies: 'Yes, sir. I'll try,' Miguel says. He laughs because he knows me. He knows it's not going to happen. 'How are your parents?' my father asks. Relieved, I'm glad the topic shifts away from marriage. 'Very well, sir,' Miguel replies. 'I'm glad. And stop calling me sir, you make me feel old,' my father says. That makes me laugh because he hates it-though it's true, he is old. 'Older,' I say, and my father shoots me a dirty look. He gets mad, and I laugh. I enjoy annoying him, just like he enjoys bothering me with the other topic. I savor making him bitter whenever I can. 'Not at all. You're still very young,' Miguel answers. Liar. He's fifty. He's already old, whether he likes it or not. Even if he doesn't look it-he seems just a little older than me. Physically, we look alike, and in character we're the same too. 'Don't lie. He's an old man,' I say. My father glares at me again, which only amuses me more. 'Thank you,' my father replies to Miguel. 'And you, Jon-how are you?' This conversation is starting to bore me. 'Fine, sir,' Jon answers. They shake hands and hug. 'Another one with the "sir,"' my father says. Honestly, I'm sick of this too. I just want to go have a drink already. 'Sorry,' Jon says. 'And do you also have a girlfriend, like Miguel?' my father asks. The three of them smile, and I don't see why, since that topic disgusts me. 'Yes, sir,' Jon replies. 'That's great,' my father says, smiling. Then he asks, 'So, boys, going out to have some fun?' They both smile and nod. 'Yes, sir,' they reply in unison. Jon and Miguel laugh, while I'm fed up with this boring monologue. If I don't cut it short, we'll never get out of here, and I don't want that. I want to go out and distract myself from all the work. I deserve it. So I cut the conversation before the hints return. Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments. That motivates me to keep writing for you, with much love, Francia.... I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Brat. Don't miss the next chapters-they're going to be on fire.