Of A Certain Age

The Meeting

My mom smiles when I sit down at the breakfast table. I woke up to goodbye notes from Camille and Allan even though I see them all the time. Gabrielle had nothing to say, as I suspected.

"Good morning, Ilana. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry."  I'm extremely sore too but I don't want her worrying over me.

My dad manages to tear his eyes away from his paper. He's wearing the simple white underclothes he always wears when he has an operation later in the day. I wonder who he's operating on. Normally, he would tell me in case I wanted to meet them.

"Eliot Sandoval."

"What?"

My mom sighs. "Donovan, please-"

"That's the name of the young man you so graciously rewarded yesterday."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "How did you find him so quickly?" I'm not as hungry as I was a second ago.

"I had people on him as soon as your statement ended. He thinks himself some sort of pillar in his community."

"What did he say?" I ask. I just want to know that even if I did mess up, my offer was well-received.

My dad shakes his head. He grips his coffee mug so hard it looks like he'll break it. "Nothing. Unprecedented as your actions were, we should still handle things professionally. I want to hold a press conference to demonstrate we aren't a family that goes back on our word."

Again with the television. "When?"

"He'll be brought over early this afternoon. Someone will intercept him on his way to work."

"You're going to kidnap him?"

Dad waves his hand. "It's not as dramatic as that."

I don't think Eliot, whoever he is, will be happy about this. "It's not fair to take him away from his job and put him on television. Wouldn't that look disingenuous?" My intention was never to reward Eliot for show.

"We can't simply reward him and send him on his merry way, never to be seen again," my dad argues back. He raises his mug for my mom to pour him more coffee. "We have to provide proof."

"She might be right," my mom says. She sets down the coffeepot and takes my plate. "Let Ilana talk to him. We can get someone to write a lovely article about it later."

"The last time we left things to Ilana we ended up where we are now," my dad persists. He wipes his beard with his hand. As if he's done everything perfectly in his life. People sure treat him like it and it's made him unable to accept anyone else's mistakes.

"Donovan-"

"I'm going to confirm the arrangements. He'll be here at eleven. Staff will be here at a quarter till." My dad washes his hands and leaves the kitchen.

"He hates me now," I say.

"Your father doesn't hate you." My mom shakes her head. She glances at the spot my dad just left. "I'm sure he wishes you weren't coming of age at a time like this when so much is going badly."

I've studied enough history to know that this isn't the worst time to live in by far. But I see the news reports. I see the anchors arguing about what it means for the planet now that the population has exceeded ten billion. The winters are colder and summers are boiling. Diseases spread faster than people can be treated and the average person can't afford healthcare.

"But those aren't our problems." After the words leave my mouth, I realize I sound just like Allan and Thom.

"They aren't. But people will always blame our family. People will always blame your father. That's a hard burden to carry."