By Terosk
Copyright 2022 by Terosk, all rights reserved
* * * * *Ars Puniendi - Part III
Chapter 32
Reconciling with Father
There,
on the coffee table in the middle of the room was the box with my
clothes. My heart skipped a beat; the sudden sight of it triggering
unwanted emotions. Impotent anger once again swelled up within me.
Motionless, I stared at the box as my mind replayed the horrifying
events of the morning - the cruel choice my father forced upon me, and
the agony and ignominy of having to strip off my clothes. The fact that
the box was here awaiting me meant that he’d had his conversation with
Mr. Innovata and that he’d given a positive report and father was now
returning my clothes. Even so, anger had already barged its way back
into my blood. I felt my breath quicken and my jaw clench even as I
tried in vain to relax. I was suddenly determined not to let my father
have the satisfaction of seeing me eager for the boxes return.
He, meanwhile, was at his desk focused on his laptop. I cleared my
throat, and he looked up right away. He studied me in silence for a few
seconds trying, no doubt, to assess my state of mind, while I did my
best to hide the turmoil raging within. Eventually he directed me to
take a seat on the couch across from his desk. Meanwhile, he got up
from his desk chair and took a seat on the large armchair across from
the sofa, which left the box almost directly between us. I took my seat
on the front edge of the sofa with my hands in my lap, purposely
ignoring the box and keeping my eyes on my father while waiting for him
to begin the conversation.
Just then the muffled sound of a
cell phone vibrating came from the box; it was clearly mine. It
occurred to me that I shouldn’t be at all surprised that my classmates
were eager to learn how I was dealing with all this. I glanced at my
father unsure as to how to react.
Father spoke up softly,
“That phone of yours has been vibrating nonstop the last hour or so. Go
ahead, Tyler, the box now is yours, but please turn your phone off for
now.” I quickly took hold of the box and extracted my phone from the
breast pocket of my blazer and couldn’t help but see the long list of
text messages that awaited me. I slid the phone to off and placed it
face down on the sofa beside me. I deliberately pushed the box aside to
the far side of the table; I wanted him to know that I wasn’t ready to
forgive him. I tried to read his expression, which as best I could tell
was one of cautious amusement. One of his eyebrows seemed to be raised
ever so slightly as if he was trying to figure out how best to begin.
After a lengthy silence, he finally began, “I am glad to see you having
such fun with your younger brothers - it is exciting to see how well
you get along. It makes a father proud.” He paused for a bit clearly
trying to see how I was responding to his opening positive sentiment. I
remained impassive. He continued; his voice soft, “Listen Tyler, I
think I owe you an apology.”
This wasn’t at all what I expected;
I raised my eyebrows inviting him to go on and waited. After a brief
pause, he explained himself, “I need to apologize for this morning. I
shouldn’t have taken ownership of what was rightfully a school
punishment - It wasn’t my place to step in the way I did. Even so, we
do need to discuss your day and what you’ve learned from today’s
experience. Are you ready to do that?” He was staring right at me and
had locked eyes with mine. His head was tilted ever so slightly, and
his expression made it clear that he was awaiting my response. I noted
that for someone who was supposedly sorry for what he’d done, his voice
and demeanor didn’t seem to lose one ounce of its command or authority.
After a bit, I gave a slight nod of my head and began, “Well,
for one thing, it’s not easy being the center of unwanted attention for
a whole day.” My voice, I noted, did not fully hide the edge of anger
that I felt within me. I suppose I wanted him to feel that anger, but
he had just apologized so I softened my tone as I added, “but you were
right when you told me it would go better for me if I fully embraced
the experience. Since it was impossible to be inconspicuous, I did my
best to accept my role on center stage. It wasn’t easy, but I got
better at dealing with it as the hours passed.”
He nodded,
acknowledging what I’d said, but remained silent clearly waiting for me
to go on. I wasn’t sure what to say next; I wasn’t about to recount a
play by play of the day’s events. After a very long awkward silence, he
finally repeated his question, “And what did you learn about the
school’s core value?” His right eyebrow was raised letting the question
linger in the silence after his words.
“Oh, Empathy, you mean?
…walking in someone else’s shoes? …to experience the world through
another’s eyes? Well, how else was I to navigate the day and keep some
semblance of dignity; I had to figure out what others might be thinking
about having a classmate parading around naked. I spent the entire day
thinking about what others were thinking so I could figure out a way to
outthink them.” I took a long breath before continuing, “It wasn’t easy
as I said, but I did get better at it as the day wore on.” He nodded to
acknowledge what I’d said, but still seemed to be looking for something
more. I wasn’t sure what more to say. Finally, I changed the subject,
“So how did your conversation with Mr. Innovata go?”
He seemed
amused as he responded, “It went well I suppose given the
circumstances. He filled me in on a few of your day’s more challenging
moments.” and he laughed gently as he added, “I must confess that I
liked your clever response to the English assignment. I understand that
you had to read it aloud to your classmates. That must have been quite
a scene.” I felt myself blushing as I recalled what I’d written and
knowing that it had been shared with father. “I must confess, Tyler,
that you’re a gifted writer. I can’t help but think you got a few
laughs as you read it aloud to them.”
“Well, as I said, it was
an effort to “fully embrace” my circumstances. Besides, I was egged on
by Samantha. Did Mr. Innovata share with you what she wrote as well?”
“No, just your response. But it doesn’t matter what triggered your
essay, only that your essay was really quite good. I enjoyed it; I mean
it.”
“I find it a little embarrassing to know that you, my father, know what I wrote.
“Well, …I suppose so. But that doesn’t change the fact that it was a clever essay and very well written.”
“Thanks, …I guess.” This conversation wasn’t going at all the way I
anticipated. Here I was, sitting naked in his office, and here he was
complimenting me on my almost X-rated essay. Ironic to say the least. I
didn’t know what else to say so I just sat there, hands in my lap and
waited.
“Listen Tyler,” he suddenly looked serious. “I want to apologize.”
“Apologize? Again?” I asked more confused than ever.
“Yes. I owe you another apology.”
“For what exactly?”
“For being such an absent father. It’s hard balancing a high-profile
job and being a good parent. I think I’ve allowed my job to supersede
what should always have been my top priority - you and your brothers.
Time flies - It seems that only yesterday you were just a fun loving,
slightly mischievous little kid. And now, seemingly in the blink of an
eye, you’ve grown up,” he paused a brief second before adding, “and
become very much a young man.” He looked at me with an intensity that
made me very much aware of my state of undress. He then continued with
a sad sigh, “I somehow missed that transition and now feel the need to
make up for lost time and become more involved in your life. …which
explains perhaps why I made my mistake this morning at school. While I
still believe that compelling you to endure the same embarrassment that
you forced upon your poor classmate was an appropriate punishment, it
wasn’t my place to enforce it. I got carried away.”
I wasn’t
at all sure what he wanted me to say to all this; I wasn’t at all sure
how I should feel, or even how I was feeling. I was confused to say the
least; I therefore remained motionless and waited. He meanwhile was
trying to see beneath my deadpan expression to figure out what I was
thinking. There was a very long silence which I was not about to break.
Eventually he continued, “I want you to know that despite your
ill-advised prank earlier this week, and the series of recent
misdemeanors before that, your mother and I are exceedingly proud of
you and your notable achievements at school. Straight A’s is a real
accomplishment; you’ve been working hard. So too is the unusual feat of
making the varsity tennis team as an 8th grader. Even though
I’ve been off on business for weeks on end, your mother keeps me up to
date daily with your doings.” Again, he paused for a bit and looked at
me before continuing.
“There is, I must confess, another
reason why I did what I did this morning. You see, I looked carefully
at the varsity tennis schedule and saw that St. Francis is playing
archrival Georgetown in another two weeks. It’ll also be your 16th
birthday that weekend. Your mother and I are so proud of you and the
fact that you earned a spot on the varsity team, we thought we’d
celebrate your success and your birthday with a surprise visit from
your Italian grandparents. I took the liberty to book flights for my
parents, and maybe your cousin Antony as well - he’s on vacation for
the week and thought a trip to America would be fun. I’ve even arranged
to take a few days off myself, I need it - I’ve been globetrotting for
months now.
So, I hope you can now better understand that,
with those arrangements made, I was so keen on ensuring that your
punishment was over and you’d be fully eligible to play in that
contest.” He then paused. looking at me as if expecting me now to
forgive all. While his sort of apology did explain his motivations, it
didn’t at all absolve him from the responsibility of forcing me to
endure what I did. I hate feeling that I was really little more than a
pawn in his plans about which I had had no say. It would have been nice
for him to have discussed the whole thing in advance so I could have
been a participant in how I wanted to proceed. It’s not fair and he
clearly didn’t get it. I still had the right to be angry and I wasn’t
at all ready to forgive.
“Father,” I finally said trying to
keep calm, “If you were making all these family plans which as you
admit seem to revolve around me and my tennis schedule, why wasn’t I at
least invited to weigh in? Am I just a pawn in your plans? You say
you’re proud of me and my accomplishments. So you invite Grampa &
Granny and maybe even Antony without giving me any warning, and yet
expect me to play along as if it makes me happy? Am I just an ornament
to your own success which you feel you can parade around to make
yourself feel good? How do you think that makes me feel?” I could feel
my jaw clench as I spoke; my anger bubbling up just beneath the
surface. I then added in a voice so soft that it amplified my inner
anger, “…and you talk to me about empathy.”
Father looked
stunned as I glared at him. He was clearly not used to anyone aiming
arrows at him the way I had just done. A very long, tense silence
followed, and I could see my father’s own jaw clench and unclench, then
clench again. He was struggling mightily to keep his cool. I studied
his face as his chest rose and fell with the long intake and exhalation
of breath; It occurred to me after a bit that he was counting to ten.
Meanwhile, my own broken breath was the only other sound I was aware
of, save for the subtle tick tock from the grandfather clock in the
corner. I noted that my heart was pounding at twice the rate of the
second hand. A minute or two must have passed in this unbearable
dueling silence. How many times had he counted to ten I don’t know.
Eventually however, he recovered his breath and his expression had
regained its traditional calm self-control. He finally spoke, very
softly and indeed gently, “Tyler, I guess, …I guess I misjudged the
scene. I somehow thought that you’d be pleased, indeed flattered by
what I had planned. I can see now that I didn’t do a good job of
climbing into your shoes and seeing things through your lens. I screwed
up; I wasn’t as ‘empathetic’ as I should have been. I can see that
now.” He then paused for a few seconds, took a long breath, then adding
almost philosophically, “Unfortunately, that happens to all of us at
times; screwing up is an inescapable part of being human. Please know
that I am truly sorry.” Both his expression and his voice gave evidence
of genuine sincerity. For the first time in all my interactions with my
father, I sensed a vulnerability in him; he seemed honestly unsure of
how he ought to proceed.
The anger I’d felt just moments ago
was giving way now to confusion. I really didn’t know how to respond to
all this. On one level I was horrified to hear him acknowledge being
wrong; it contradicted everything I thought I knew about my father, the
all-knowing boss, the world traveling business guru, CEO of a
billion-dollar company. Everybody seemed to revere him, to defer to
him, and to treat him as the unerring, indisputable leader in chief.
And, admittedly, I loved the idea of being the son of such an
influential, high-powered figure. It was therefore hard to see him
humbling himself in this way; it was hard for me to wrap my head
around.
He was now looking at me inquisitively, clearly
waiting for me to respond. Was he expecting me now to forgive him? Was
I ready to do that? …did I even want to do that? When I didn’t respond,
he added, “Just so you know, Tyler, I love you; I suppose that I
haven’t been all that good about letting you know that over the years.
Sorry again. Please do your best to forgive me.” And with that he stood
up and walked over to the closet and took out his briefcase, fiddled
with the combination, and clicked it open. He took out a small paper
bag, shut the case, and walked over to the box with my clothes. He then
placed the bag on top and slid the box back my way. “I was thinking
about you while up in Montreal; I got you something to add to your
collection. It was supposed to be a mini birthday present for next
week, but perhaps I’d do better now to call it a peace offering.”
Reluctantly I reached in and pulled out the bag and opened it - an old
baseball cap with a team logo I didn’t recognize immediately -
certainly not a team playing now. I turned it over in my hands and saw
that it was signed. I tried to make out the signature but it was hard
to decipher. I looked up at my father who was clearly eager to share
the story of the hat. “It’s Larry Walker. He was one of the all-time
best players on the historic Montreal Expos team that played in the
National East division from 1969 till the year you were born. Larry
played in Montreal from 1989-1994, then went on to play for the
Colorado Rockies and later for the Cardinals. He was just inducted
recently into the Hall of Fame. It’s a very special hat; I figured that
it would be a special addition to your collection.”
I was
definitely into baseball trivia, and this was admittedly a good
peace-offering and destined to be a highlight of my growing collection,
but I wasn’t quite ready to be all nice about it; I didn’t want to show
any real excitement. I therefore spoke in a rather formal manner as I
tried to hide my smile, “Thank you, father. This is, I admit, a nice
addition to my collection,” and I added after a short pause, “and I
will let you know a bit later if this ‘peace offering’ as you call it
is sufficient.” I adjusted the strap at the back of the hat and then
fit it on my head and gave my father the hint of a smile. “May I go
now? I believe there are a lot of friends who are keen on finding out
if I’ve managed to survive the day, and it would only be polite to
respond to their kind entreaties.”
Father sighed as he
contemplated my request to put an end to this little chat. Eventually
he said, “Not quite yet, Tyler. I’d like to revisit your understanding
of empathy.” I rolled my eyes dramatically as he continued, “I believe
you said that you ‘walked in another’s shoes,’ and ‘experienced the
world through another’s eyes’ so that you could figure out what your
classmates were thinking. Indeed, you said you spent the day thinking
about what others were thinking so you could manage to ‘outthink’
them.’
“Yeah - that’s right. Isn’t that the lesson you and
mother were so keen on having me learn. Empathy: the art of stepping
out of your own shoes and walking in someone else’s? …seeing the world
through another’s lens? Wasn’t that what today was all about?” I wasn’t
at all sure where this was going. With a slight show of impatience, I
took the ‘peace offering’ from my head, placed it in my lap as I sat
forward on the couch, and put forth a pose of attentiveness.
Father shook his head side to side clearly disappointed in my response,
“Not exactly Tyler. You see, the effort to walk in the shoes of another
isn’t about trying to figure out what they’re thinking. It’s about
trying to understand how they’re feeling. There’s a huge difference;
let me explain briefly: You expressed your anger at me a few minutes
ago when I hadn’t told you about Grandma and Grampa’s upcoming visit by
accusing me of treating you like ‘an ornament to my own success.’ Then
you asked, and I quote, ‘How do you think that makes me feel.’” He put
extra stress on the word ‘feel.’ and continued, “Please note that you
didn’t ask me how it made you ‘think’. Empathy is all about making an
honest effort to understand someone else’s emotional state. Am I making
any sense to you?” Another raised eyebrow awaiting my response.
I nodded affirmatively as I responded, “Yes, father, that makes sense.
I believe I understand the difference.” I was ready for this
conversation to be at an end and figured it would speed things along to
agree without asking further questions. I then repeated my earlier
request as I slid my phone into my hands and began to make a move
towards the door, “Am I free to go now?”
He looked at me
skeptically, not fully convinced by my response, but finally yielded,
“I guess so, my son, …as long as you truly understand the lesson that
needs to be learned. So yes - you’re free to go.”
“Thank
you” I said as I stood up and headed for the door; the Expos hat was
still in my hand but I turned around when I got to the door and looked
at my father this time with sincerity and even a hint of a smile as I
put the hat back on my head, “…and thank you again for the hat.” With
that I turned to make my escape.
“Wait one second, Tyler.
Aren’t you forgetting something?” He gestured to the box still on the
table. I allowed my eyes to travel to the box for a short second before
returning my gaze to my father. Once again, the sight of the box
triggered a sudden flood of unwanted emotions. Without much thought, I
responded, “Those are my school clothes; I won’t be needing them till
Monday. For now, given the sauna-like conditions on the 3rd floor, I think it’ll be more comfortable to remain in my present state.”
He looked at me incredulously for the briefest second before breaking
out in a big smile, “As you wish, Tyler. I suppose I’m not in a good
position, after the events of this morning, to force you to get
dressed. So be it; but please do take the box from here; it’s yours to
do with as you wish.” He then picked up the box himself and handed it
to me as he added, “And just so you know, I do love you, no matter what
you’re wearing …or not.” He laughed as he turned back and returned to
his desk. I stood in the doorway for another few seconds trying to
figure out what unwittingly I’d just done, then slowly turned and began
climbing the stairs to my room. I turned on my phone as I did so and
took a quick look at the flood of messages that had piled up. The most
recent just arrived from Theo: “U OK? Call ASAP” I quickly responded
“Alive. Crazy day. Come over - fill u in when u arrive.” I hadn’t
climbed another step before my phone pinged, “OK - OTW.” I wasn’t sure
exactly how I was going to describe my day, …especially the
conversation with father which was totally not what I'd expected. Never
in my life would I have expected an apology, let alone a ‘peace’
offering. I took the hat off my head and turned it over in my hands. It
seemed a genuine and sincere effort to make up for what he’d done that
morning. I had so wanted to be angry at him, I was so ready to rebel,
but he’d managed to steal the fuel from my fire. I think it was going
to help to talk with Theo about it; his parents were sort of cool like
that. Maybe he’d help me sort out the thoughts swirling in my head.
I had just opened the door to the 3rd
floor stairwell and stepped into the unforgiving wall of sweltering
stillness when I heard my father’s voice calling up to me, “Tyler - one
more thing. Your mother’s running late but wants to have a family sit
down meal tonight; I agree, it’s not too often we get a chance to be
all together. She’s ordered a meal from the club and will pick it up on
her way home. She asks that you set the dining room table for the five
of us. She told me to tell you she’s ordered you your favorite. I do
hope that you’ll spearhead the preparations so we can eat as soon as
she arrives, and the food is still warm. About a half hour from now.”
“But Theo is already on the way over! I’m not sure a sit-down dinner
makes sense. You should have told me sooner.” I couldn’t quite picture
Theo arriving in the middle of a formal family sit down.
“Well, then you’ll just have to call Theo and tell him to wait until
later, …or I suppose he could join us for dinner. Just ask him what
he’d like, and we can add to the order before your mother picks it up.
…it’s up to you. But please be warned that your mother will want a
thorough debrief of your day, so if you’d like to do that with Theo in
attendance, it’s up to you.” …then he added, “and thanks in advance for
taking care of setting the dining room table.”
“Shit!” I thought as I stood at the foot of 3rd
floor steps. What was I going to do now? It’s not like there was any
wiggle room in my father’s response; I had to admire the way he could
command such authority without using the imperative mood or raising his
voice a single decibel. And we were to be eating in the formal dining
room as well; we hadn’t done that in some time with father being away
so much, mother often in a rush, and my own schedule getting more
complicated.
I had to confess that he wasn’t being
unreasonable. Mother would certainly expect to know how the day went,
and it wouldn’t go well for me if I tried to back out. I left the box
on the stairs in front of me and returned downstairs and pulled out the
drawer with the real silverware. It was admittedly fun to be formal
sometimes, and if mother had ordered me my favorite from the club, it
was going to be awesome. I quickly texted Theo to let him know that
he’d be joining us for dinner. I figured it was only fair to give him a
heads up, but I knew he’d enjoy having some red meat since his parents
are die hard vegetarians and he loves the opportunity to have a real
meal. I quickly called the club and added another filet mignon to the
order.
I then turned to the task of setting the table,
carefully placing each utensil in its assigned place. Mother was a real
stickler when it came to such things; there was a right way to set a
table and she had taken pains long ago to ensure her children knew what
that right way was. As I did so, I mused about the fact that when I
last set this table, it had been nearly 4 months ago during the
holidays when my mother’s parents had come to stay for a few days.
Dinner each evening was very much a formal affair and my brothers and I
were required to wear coat and tie to those meals. She must have
thought our formality would impress her parents, which given the
excessive formality of my grandparents, she may have been right. But I
now had to wonder what mother would be expecting us to wear at this
meal and whether she’d be okay with me in my present state. Father
hadn’t mentioned a dress code for this impromptu occasion.
As I was near finishing up with setting the table, my father appeared
at the doorway and stood there watching as I placed the last of the
glasses in their proper place. Finally, he commented with a hint of a
smile, “Thank you Tyler. That looks good and I know your mother will be
pleased. I was just thinking that perhaps maybe you might consider
getting dressed; I suspect your mother would appreciate you and your
brothers putting on something nice for what should be a special meal.
I’ve already asked Stephanie to get your brothers properly attired.”
Though not really surprised by the request, I nevertheless decided to
press the issue a bit. I asked inquisitively, “Do you mean to suggest
that Mother doesn’t approve of nudity?”
“Probably not at the
dinner table.” he said matter-of-factly, then added when I made no move
to respond, “Please Tyler, let’s try to move past the events of the
day. It would be wonderful to have a healthy and harmonious family meal
together.”
“Don’t forget Theo. He should be here any minute.
…And what do you mean by ‘properly attired’? You mean my new baseball
hat isn’t sufficient?” I was trying to be funny, but there was enough
of an edge to my voice that made the question real.
Father
responded after a short pause, “I do love the hat, Tyler, and am
delighted that you clearly do as well, but hats, as you well know,
aren’t appropriate at a formal sit-down family meal. I’ll be wearing my
business suit and tie, and I suspect your mother would like you to wear
something comparable.” Then he added, “I had forgotten about Theo;
perhaps you can lend him something appropriate to wear from your
wardrobe.” His tone of voice and expression made it clear he was
expecting me to yield to the request without further comment.
As I looked back at him trying to decide if I was really ready to do
so, I heard a telltale sound of a car pulling in the driveway and a car
door opening. While there was a part of me that was indeed ready to
move past all this, I was still determined to put on a show of
nonchalance regarding the punishment my parents had forced upon me. I
knew of course that it was more my father’s doing than my mother’s, yet
she had gone along with it, and it seemed only right that I confront
her as I was. So I looked at father with a determined expression and
stated flatly, “To be fully honest, father, I’m not so sure I’m ready
to get past the events of the day quite yet; and if by chance my
continued nakedness is upsetting to you, then I suppose you’ll just
have to deal with it.” I was sure father would be angry with my
obstinance and I fully expected him to show it with a stern reaction to
my statement, but he remained utterly impassive save for an ever so
slight raise of his right eyebrow. I stared at him as I awaited a
further reaction.
Eventually he said in a very quiet voice,
“As I said to you earlier, I love you no matter what you are wearing,
…or not wearing. However, when we sit down in the formal dining room,
we demonstrate our reverence for the special occasion by dressing up a
bit just as we’ve always done. I know your mother would expect you to
uphold that tradition. You may, of course, discuss the matter with your
mother directly since I believe I heard her pull in the driveway a bit
ago.”
There was, at that moment, a knock on the front door. I
quickly surmised that it was not my mother that had arrived since she’d
have come in through the garage. Father looked at me with a slight tilt
of the head, “Are you going to answer it? …or would you like me to get
the door as you run upstairs to get dressed?”
I’d been
accused in the past of being a bit obstinate and I had to confess that
perhaps there was some truth in that characterization; no doubt, my
obstinacy had been the cause of much the trouble I’d gotten myself
into. This was clearly one of those times, for while I was ready to
confront my mother in my present state, I would have preferred to be
dressed before opening the front door to some stranger. Of course, it
could be Theo, but normally he would have come in through the garage
and entered through the kitchen as well, so I had to wonder who was at
the front door. As these calculations were running through my head, I
was equally aware that to accept my father’s offer of letting him get
the door while I escaped upstairs to get dressed would be a huge
defeat. I was between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it; he’d
called my bluff and I therefore had to either put up or shut up.
I inhaled deeply, gave father a defiant look, and headed for the door.
****