What Are The Odds?

Chapter 02/ Empty Rooms - J

As I ascend the ornate marble steps outside my home, I enjoy one last moment of silence. I know that as soon as I walk in that door, my ears will be bombarded by the relentless arguing of my mother and father. To tell you the truth, I don't think they were ever happy; I suspect they only married for money. Whatever the case, they certainly can't stand each other, but neither of them wants to be the one to suggest divorce. They've been at odds with one another for as long as I can remember, yet they refuse to work on their marriage. I'll never understand it.

Just as I suspected, I walked into the foyer where I could hear the echoes of my mother and father arguing.

"Would you like me to take your jacket, Mister Jackson?"

"Karen, I've told you a hundred times to just call me Jackson. 'Mister Jackson' sounds strange to me."

"Of course, Jackson."

Karen Andrews; the woman who practically raised me. She's been working for my parents for close to two decades now. She was originally hired as a nanny for me, but now that I'm seventeen, she has resided to the position of head maid. It doesn't matter what position she holds in the house, she will always be more of a mother to me than the woman who gave birth to me.

"Oh Jackson before I forget, your parents want you to join them for dinner in twenty minutes. They said that they had something to discuss with you."

"Okay thank you Karen."

I pondered Karen's words as I walk up the stairs towards my bedroom. I can't remember the last time we had a family dinner which worries me. If they want to sit down and talk with me, this must be serious, and that's not a good sign. My parents have always had my life entirely planned out from the moment I was born. They knew where I would go to school, who my friends would be, and that I would take over my father's company one day. It's a strange thing to sit from the sidelines and watch your life being planned for you and not be able to do anything about it. I don't try to come off as ungrateful because I know that there are people in far worse situations than myself. I'm lucky to have a roof over my head and food on the table, and I recognize that. 

My thoughts are interrupted by a new text message notification.

Alexander: Hey man! Cole and I are going to the beach tomorrow around noon and we were wondering if you wanted to come with? Let me know!

Alexander and I have been friends for god knows how many years. Sometimes I think he's my only real friend in the world. When we met in grade school, my father hadn't made his money yet. Why does that matter? Well now that my father is on the Forbes 500 list and I live in a mansion, I never know if people want to be friends with me for my money or my personality; it's usually the former. Normally people are more interested in riding in my BMW than getting to know me. When I was younger, I didn't really notice; I just thought people really liked me. I know now that was never really the case. Because of this, I have become more and more selective of my friends over the years. Alexander is one of them.

Jackson: Sure man sounds fun! 

I wonder over to my closet to decide on an outfit for dinner. When I open the doors, I see suits and expensive clothing staring back at me. I know that my parents have spent a small fortune on these clothes but I know that it's more about keeping up their image than because they care about me.  If it were up to me, I'd wear baggy sweatpants and a graphic tee every day of the week, but that's frowned upon by people in my social class. I always have to look my best, even within the walls of my house, which makes no sense to me. I've never understood my parents' constant need to impress other people, some of whom they don't even know. They care much more about what some random stranger thinks than what their son thinks.