Chapter Two
1029 Words
Break a leg, my dad had said. But like the overachieving son I was, I did even worse than that. I was singlehandedly responsible for the death of five of my team members, including my assistant and lifelong friend. That crash was not how I envisioned my first day as CEO.
"Does it make you feel guilty? That you were the only one that survived?" The woman in front of me was attentive enough. She had her head corked to an angle and her pen slanted, ready to write the report that could make or break my career and reputation. Her already thin lips were pursed so that the red lipstick she was wearing was no more than a menacing red line that reminded me eerily of blood. She’d introduced herself when she walked into the room but I was too absent-minded for the name to stick and it did not matter much to me anyway.
Was I too mentally unfocused to head a company? What would she report to my father and the board?
I forced out a laugh even though it sounded rough like sandpaper, "Wouldn't anyone feel guilty? I am only human after all.” I chose an answer as close to the truth as I could possibly manage. A blatant lie would alarm her that I was a psychopath, but something humane enough without over-the-top hysteria was certain to do the trick. Something completely different from what I was feeling inside. I felt like she already knew what I was going through, but me actually saying it out loud just made it official. This prim, proper woman would leave her office in hysterics if she knew what was happening in my head. My mind had found ways to turn against me, and if she knew it, she would have had me committed for sure. I knew how to end my suffering and make it all go away in a second, but my mom was gone; she had died when I was fifteen, and my dad needed me. I was all he had left.
The lady scribbled something on the paper and threw another question my way.
"How do you feel about the fact that you don't remember the details of the crash?" She said in a calm voice.
My heart felt like it had been pierced by a thousand arrows and time stood still. I knew the extent of the consequences behind this question. I was kept alive in a hospital bed for two agonizing months, with a breathing tube inserted into my lungs. I knew that there was no turning back from this moment. From this question. My father was the first to ask me what happened. That seemed to be the million-dollar question that everybody wanted to know.
I put on the most charismatic smile I could muster, but it was too weak and forced to hold. "The Air Safety Investigators are smart. I'm sure they'll be able to figure it out without me," I said. I tugged on the lapels of my suit, adjusting what I knew already looked perfect. I still tried my best to look as sane as possible. I had tried to move as little as possible too so as not to give my discomfort away, but the stillness rattled my insides.
She looked up at the clock, and I followed her gaze. I had avoided looking at that dreaded thing throughout the meeting, but I could hear the ticking. I could successfully hold out for one hour; the session was over. She snapped the notebook shut and smiled at me. The smile was sympathetic yet impersonal. I was just another patient, another damaged person that she had to deal with for a large sum of money.
"So... what's the verdict?"
"The company hired me to assess your capacity to return to your CEO position, so technically, I answer to them." She answered.
"Doc, you just poked around in my head. Don't you think I have a right to know?" I spread my arms and gave a small smile I believed was sad-looking as I asked her.
She leaned forward. "I think you are hiding something and would prefer to see you again before I deliver my verdict. But we have a deadline to meet."
My heart was pounding in my chest. "I'll place you on a two-week work probation."
I did not know how to feel. I wanted to get back to work desperately. That was the point of this but still…. "Thank you," I said.
***
Father was waiting for me outside the doctor's office. He had been acting like my chauffeur ever since the crash. Today, he looked especially pale, with eyes that were too white but clouded with concern. "You shouldn't have come," I said, not looking at him.
"Why not? I’m the one that got you into this mess in the first place."
I avoided his eyes as I fished around in my pockets for my keys. I needed to get away from here as fast as possible. "Dad, we've been over this bef…."
He stamped his walking stick on the ground. "You are still my son, Ryan, and I have every right to worry about you. Son, if I hadn't asked…” He had some trouble getting the rest of his words out and he clutched his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. “...If I hadn't asked you..."
I hurried to his side, but he pushed me away. "I'm fine."
I smiled, and for the first time, it was genuine. "You see how cranky you get when I try to care for you? Now, imagine how I feel".
He relaxed, returning my smile. "I just worry about you, son. I’m allowed to."
I held him by the shoulders, and let a lie slide out from between my lips without much effort. "There is nothing to worry about. I'm fine now."
He nodded. "You're right. I'll let you go home and rest. Drive safe son."
"Sure thing, dad." I looked at the nurse, who had been caring for him since his illness started, and I told her. "Take care of him."
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