Warriors Mate

It was the same argument, just a different day. “Do you realize how foolish this endeavor of yours is?” “Yes, dad. Very foolish of me to move into the house I inherited and claim everything Uncle Max had left to me.” My father was not keen on the idea of me leaving California and moving to Oregon. He didn’t like it when I would visit Uncle Max and he sure as heck does not want me living alone in the forest. Unfortunately for him, I have already made up my mind. “The opportunity for something horrendous to befall you is just too much for me to bear. You must stay here. You must attend a good university and make your own way. Do not think for one moment accepting what my brother left behind is any way to start your own path in the world.” I swear I could see steam coming from his ears. Even sitting at his desk, he was a looming figure. James Blake. My father was the largest land and business owner Santa Clara had ever known. He may only be 5’ 11” but he carried himself as if holding court with everyone he encountered. While my father is quite the affluent speaker, he does hold himself in a haughty light. No one could possibly be in his league unless he was wishing to enter a business agreement with them. Mr. Santa Clara, as some would call him, kept his blonde hair cut short and his face shaved. The only time I can recall him not wearing a suit is when he may engage in a tennis match or a golf game with a client. “Dad, that makes no sense at all. I have been given Uncles Max’s home, all his belongings, and his fortune. How is this a bad start? I’m not seeing anything bad at all here.” I really didn’t. Uncle Max passed away several months ago, and his attorney made it very clear. I was the only heir to his estate. He never married or had any children, at least none we were aware of. Uncle Max and I had been very close. He was more like a second dad to me. Unfortunately, my dad didn’t want me to have any of my uncle’s belongings and most definitely, his money. “I will be the laughing-stock of the town. I can just hear them now. Can you believe Blake’s daughter didn’t earn her way? She must be just like her mother.” My father bellowed in a mocking voice. The voice he likes to use when he really wanted to drive home a point. I hated that voice. I heard it many times over the years since my mother moved out. “Dad! Enough! Why do you always drag my mother into these discussions when it has nothing to do with her. Nothing at all.” My father had consistently brought up my mother’s name if he wanted me to think better of myself or do better. He seemed to think belittling her would make me change my ways or choose another path to avoid someone looking down on me. “Aria, love… you know I would do anything for you, and I want to encourage you to exceed your potential. We have always discussed potential, yet I do not favor you taking the easy way as your mother had always done. I should have seen it sooner. I should have known she would be the one to drag my name through the mud. The indulgences that woman gave herself by way of my bank account. The nerve.” I could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrests of his high back leather office chair. I believe that chair, like most things in this office, cost more than most cars the families in the village were able to afford. My father needed the best. Embroidered drapery in cream and burgundy hung from the ceiling to floor windows which were a contrast to the cream wall between. A large photo of my father and I hung from the wall framed in a dark wood frame. Below the photo was a bar filled with the finest liquor from all around the globe. My father did not skimp on expenses. As usual, I let him rant for several minutes about the atrocities of their marriage. The multiple affairs she had, although none were proven to be true. Her love for all things with dollar signs followed by several digits. The credit cards she had their accountant cover but never told my father about it. All the devastatingly nefarious schemes my mother conducted over the years when they were married. I can’t recall a single time my father would ever admit to any of his own wrongdoings. He will avoid his own guilt but has no problem pointing the finger at others, especially my mother. I have learned to let him vent. I have been told this allows him to cast out his frustrations and regain his focus. I don’t see it that way. I see a man who is not capable of admitting where his own faults lie. Someday he will need to face the truth, but I really hope I am not around when that happens. Once he seemed to finish barreling on about my awful mother, I waited a moment. “Are you done now? Do you feel better?” “You know I don’t like discussing your mother,” he replied. “Seemed to me like you were on a pretty good roll this time.” “Aria, don’t. Do not try to sidetrack me from the conversation at hand. You will not be moving to Oregon. You will not take possession of that damned cabin. You will start university next month right here in Santa Clara as I had planned. Enough of this nonsense!” He hadn’t put his foot down like that in months. Not since I received notice of the inheritance. “Dad. I know what you want for me and why you want it. I am not staying here. I am not going to university. I am making my own plans and I am leaving the day after tomorrow. You need to let me go and let me live the life I want. Not the life you have planned for me, and definitely not the marriage you have in mind.” Dad’s plan. There was always a plan. University was his plan. The courses he said I needed to take. High society demanded at least some college before the perfect marriage with a proper family. That was far from what I wanted. “You are making a big mistake, Aria. Don’t you realize what a match with Jason Cameron would do for our family? You would be at the top of the food chain, darling. The Cameron’s own a good portion of Santa Clara and several businesses in San Francisco as well. This arrangement is just what we need to repair our family name. Your mother made quite a mess when she left and your relationship with Jason could set things straight. Better than straight.” “What about happiness? What about love? What about my dreams and ambitions? Doesn’t that count for anything? Just because you didn’t find true love doesn’t mean I can’t.” I had heard this all before. “And I do not call what Jason and I have a ‘relationship’. I call it a mutual agreement to tolerate each other.” “Now Aria. Jason adores you. He speaks highly of you at the country club and all his associates agree you will be a perfect wife by his side. Why don’t you just stop this nonsense and admit this is the right choice for you, for us.” “Jason doesn’t know me. When we speak, it’s as if we are conducting a business deal. He is so formal and stuffy. Not a touch of warmth or caring. We have never even been out on a date together.” “Yes, you have. Just last month you went to the beach house. As I recall, you had a wonderful time.” “Dad. I had a great time with my friends. Jason is not one of my friends. And, he and his friends brought lots of alcohol and a few women who were not in his social group, if you know what I mean.” Hookers. They were hookers. Luckily, my friends and I had another house next door so we could escape the deplorable acts going on. “Boys will be boys. You and Jason get along great. It is a perfect match.” He continued on about Jason being a great man and as potential husbands went, he was quite a catch. “I’m going to bed. I am done discussing this. I don’t know why you won’t listen to me. I love you, dad. I will see you in the morning.” I got up from the chair I had been sitting in for the past hour. “Goodnight, Aria.” Dad rose to his feet as I left the room. He didn’t say anything further. He didn’t need to. I knew what he wanted, and he knew when I said I was done, I was done. I was known to shut down after discussions that went nowhere. Exhausted from the evening discussion, I walked through the hollow-sounding halls of my father’s house. As I passed through the living room and the great room I yawned, not realizing just how draining the evening had been. I turned left and padded up the stairs to the second floor and made my way to my room. In my closet, I chose a loose sleep top that covered my bottom and went into my bathroom to change and prepare for bed. Once done, I pulled back the covers of my king-size bed and slid beneath the soft sheets. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillows.