THE CUT

Rafe is doing the best he can

6

Rafe arrives home the next afternoon, feeling high. He'd just secured a new deal with a client who wants three generators. Willing to pay a lot of money. He knew as soon as he left, Ward would be thrilled to hear this news. For once, Rafe has done something right, and it feels so good.

He tosses his bike helmet aside and rushes through the front door. "Dad," he shouts.

The house is dead silent.

"Dad!"

"What?"

Rafe follows his father's sharp tone into the office. He bursts through like a whirlwind. Ward looks up with a dark gaze, huddled over a stack of papers. He has his glasses on.

"Dad, you'll be so happy," Rafe says, panting. His heart is thrashing behind his ribs. He can't wait to spill the news and see his father smile for once.

"You know Mr. Cabrera, who was on the fence about the generators?"

Ward sets his pen down and removes his glasses. "Yes."

"I just convinced him. We've got a new deal. He wants three of them by next Tuesday."

Ward stills like he's processing. Rafe waits and watches for any subtle sign of happiness. But there isn't even a flicker.

"You got him to agree to only three generators?"

Rafe frowns. He thought his father would be exuberant over this.

"Rafe," he says. "Mr. Cabrera is a huge potential client. I've been working on a deal with him for nearly a year now."

"I got it secured," Rafe says.

Ward presses his lips together.

"He was originally going to buy ten generators. You made him settle for three."

Oh. Well, Rafe hadn't known that.

"But..."

"But, what?" Ward stands. "Rafe. I will handle this. Don't ever go to a client of mine without my knowledge. You're not ready for that part of this job. Clearly."

He puts his glasses back on, lowers his head, and goes back to the papers.

Rafe stands there, defeated. Dumbstruck. He thought he'd done something his father hadn't been able to do. He thought, for once, he had done something right.

"Goddamn it!" Ward slams his fist against the desk and Rafe flinches. He rips his glasses off, and they go flying, hit the wall, and break on the floor. Ward looms over Rafe from the other side of the desk, seething. "How do you manage to always screw things up? How is someone that incapable of doing something right?"

He takes a steady breath and runs his hand over his beard.

Rafe starts to speak when Ward tells him to shut up.

Rafe pictures Y/n, suddenly; her face and her soft smile. How she spoke to him at that house party her parents threw. He'd felt so diminished after Ward had tossed him around and then went back to the other guests with a happy face. And when he found out Y/n had been a witness to that, he'd wanted to completely disappear.

At least Ward scolds Rafe in private, so Rafe doesn't have to bear the humiliation of other people's judgment. The last person he wanted to find out was Y/n, and yet when she did, she didn't treat him differently.

I think you're doing the best you can.

Rafe is doing the best he can.

"My own son," Ward says. "My own goddamn son. When you were born, I thought..." He shakes his head and laughs under his breath, but nothing is funny. "You're a fucking joke, Rafe. Get the hell out of here before I do something I regret."

Rafe takes his time, feeling the open wound that his father has created. It always hurts the same, never dulls, never goes numb. Always there, always aching under the surface of his skin.

As Rafe walks out, slowly, unlike last time, Ward picks up a hardcover book and chucks it at him. Rafe hears the pages flutter and the book slams against the door, just missing the back of his head. He quickly shuts the door, his heart pounding. Then he makes a tear for it, frightened that Ward may pick the book back up and chase him with it.