Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Passions change. Maybe the law is your new passion?”
“No, it’s my quest. Something I feel like I have to do,” I replied.
“Why? Your parents weren’t lawyers.”
We’d learned basics about each other’s families over the past few months. For instance, he knew my father passed away and that I rarely saw my mom now. And I knew that his folks were hippies who owned a Christmas tree farm in Pennsylvania, but we hadn’t gone beyond surface details. Now I knew about Sarah and pineapple cookies and his love of space. It made me hungry for anything he was willing to share.
But I hadn’t reciprocated. Not the big stuff. Not the hard stuff.
“No, my mom was the CEO of a big finance firm until she met Gill and retired. Dad worked a part-time gig at the bank for a while and played chauffeur to my brothers and me after school,” I said matter-of-factly. “Dean went into computers, but Ryan is a finance guy like our mom. Not a lawyer in the group.”
“What made you go into law?”
“I don’t like injustice,” I replied, continuing in a gravelly tone. “This is the only way I think I can do something to honor my dad and make the assholes accountable, so it doesn’t feel like he died for nothing.”
Holden furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. I thought he had a heart attack.”
“He did. The prescription pain pills he took for a bum knee weakened his heart. He was addicted to them. The truth is, he died of a drug overdose.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
I inclined my head in acknowledgment. “I was away at college when he was at his lowest, and part of me will always feel guilty I didn’t do anything. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have known how. I didn’t know the depth of his addiction. He lost his job when I was in grade school and his self-respect soon after. He suffered from depression, anxiety, and a host of other shit. My mom worked twice as hard to make up for the loss of income. My brothers probably knew there was more to the story. I was oblivious.”
“That was probably a good thing.”
“I don’t know about that. The way I see it, I willfully bought the lie. Dad was always jolly and happy. Mom was always gone. She still is. I hated her for moving on so fast after he died, but I’ve slowly come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t see all sides to the story. I thought he was the greatest dad in the world, but he was flawed too. And he was probably a crappy husband. Reconciling the pieces that wouldn’t fit messed with my head.” I gestured toward the house meaningfully. “I couldn’t look at that damn cookbook without getting pissed for years. Smiling when your life is in the shitter, putting up appearances, lying all the fucking time…just to make your kid think it’s all gonna be okay. The most revealing thing is that there isn’t a single entry from my teenage years. We stopped recording life when it sucked. We stopped making up phony shit about being a happy fucking family when it got to be hard work. And now we pretend again. Should I thank him, or should I be angry? Some days, I still can’t decide and that pisses me off.”
“How old were you when he died?” he asked gently.
“Twenty-one. I floundered through that last year of college. If it hadn’t been for Blake and Cole and my teammates, I’m not sure I would have finished. I was so fucking lost. And everyone else moved on. I felt like I was the only one dealing with his death, but again…perspective. I was the loudmouthed youngest kid who would have given anything to walk into my parents’ house and see my dad at the stove with a big smile on his face. ‘Hey, Ezzie. How’s it goin’? Take a seat, tell me about your day!’ Hell, I’d give anything for it now. But that’s ten year-old me talking, not teenage me, not adult me. He’s gone and I have to figure out how to make sense of it. And ideally, stop wishing I could ask him why the fuck he couldn’t pull his shit together and be the guy I remembered in those photos.” I licked my dry lips and sighed. “So…law.”
“I’m sorry.” Holden reached for my hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be a wonderful lawyer, Ezra Marsden.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna try, but you know…sometimes my motivations worry me. Am I doing this for Dad or me? Does it matter? I just don’t know sometimes,” I admitted in a small voice.
He squeezed my hand gently. “I don’t either, but speaking from personal experience, you have to live your life for you. When you’re honest with yourself, the rest follows.”