Ghosts of Manhattan: A Novel(59)



I have the pork, which turns out to be very good, and I switch to wine. I don’t know what the others are having or what they’re saying. I’m playing a game with myself to think back through a whole story start to finish, whichever story comes to mind first, then come back to the table and conversation to see how much time has passed. It’s usually only two or three minutes, so I keep playing. No one seems to mind.

The entrées are finished and taken and Alistair orders dessert. He eats it slowly, and I notice Patricia is looking concerned for Julia, several times placing her hand on Julia’s forearm in a comforting way and without prompting. Julia looks happy for it, which isn’t normal, and I can see it makes Patricia feel happy and needed. It makes me want to leave faster.

The waiter delivers the check directly to Alistair though I had wanted to pay. I don’t want him to feel like he’s doing anything nice for us. “I’ll get that, Alistair.” I reach over with my credit card.

“Nonsense the least we can do you coming all the way out here to sit with us.”

Short of ripping the bill from his hands, I’ll have to let this go. Alistair completes the tip and transaction with the waiter, then quietly surveys the table with his hands folded in front of him like a rancher looking over his pasture from up in the saddle of his horse.

“So when are you two going to deliver us a grandchild not getting any younger here and neither are you would be nice to know the child you see in our day we raised children when we were young and they were the focus and family the priority.” He starts talking while looking at Julia and ends looking at me.

“That’s none of your business, Dad.” Julia is uncomfortable but firm and looks him right in the eye, meaning to shut this down before it goes a comment further.

“Alistair, please.” Patricia puts her hand on Julia’s forearm again and slowly strokes.

I let it all pass but Alistair doesn’t want to end dinner having been rebuked. He moves on like a pitcher who has thrown a called ball and goes right back into his windup for the next pitch. He decides to press what he clearly views to be a related point.

“Nick, how long do you keep it up on Wall Street younger man’s game you know could buy a little business to run and live in a house with a yard find a little business that does some good and gives some back could be fun.”

He knows very well this hits a nerve with me, that some part of me agrees with what he says. Coming from him, I can’t see it as support but only as antagonism. Maybe he’s pissed that even average bond traders make more than partners in law firms. I lean back first to think about the best way to respond, and I decide direct is best. “Alistair, every time we see each other, you find a way to criticize me and my job and try to convince me to make changes as though you’re not happy with who I am. As though you think I’m soulless, my job is soulless. Why would you say that to me? Is that what you think?” I lean forward at him to show I intend to get an answer to the question.

There’s no sound but the clinking of teacups in saucers. Alistair clears his throat. Like any passive-aggressive, he’s not used to direct confrontation or an honest interpretation of his question that forces him to defend why he asked it. He prefers to have his subtlety returned with subtlety.

“It’s a fine job provides for the family and all to be sure not at all soulless just there comes a time and people try things make career changes see what’s out there and this is what you’ve done for a dozen years and just a thought.”

Confronting Alistair like this is one step. I could smile and shrug it off now and everyone’s temperature would drop and it would all be forgotten. I could stop it at this level of damage. Or I could take the next step and say what I’ve thought but held back for the sake of keeping the peace, keeping Julia out of the cross fire of open war. To take the next step with Alistair would be irreversible. If I fight with Julia, we have a foundation of years together and a contract that means we work to fix it and we want to forgive. To fight with Alistair would poison the soil we’ve been trying to build on and we’d abandon the effort and the toxic ground. On the other hand, to confront him is the honest thing to do. I want to make the changes in my life to cut away the negative and focus on the positive. If I believe in this, then Alistair must go. These are the kinds of decisions I need to make.

This is a turn down a one-way street with no U-turns. I feel myself press down the accelerator. “Just a thought,” I repeat back to him. “Here’s a thought for you, Alistair.” I look for a moment at Patricia, then at Julia, then settle back on Alistair. Patricia looks horrified at what she knows is coming. Julia looks calm as though this is something she’s been predicting for years would come and is happy to see it and feels vindicated. There’s even a small smile curling up one side of her mouth, and in the middle of this it strikes me how beautiful she looks. Alistair shifts in his chair with hands clenching the edge of the table like an airline passenger hitting turbulence.

“You’re incapable of being honest with yourself, which is lucky for you because you don’t have to come face-to-face with what a pompous clown you are. You reinvent history and yourself to be whatever makes you feel happy and secure. What’s unlucky for everyone around you is that we’re stuck with you. You’re just as incapable of changing from the piece of crap that you are because you can’t or won’t face how twisted up you are, and so we all have to sit around and indulge this illusion you’ve created of yourself, for yourself. Just a thought.” I remember my commitment to filter the negative and say only the positive. My new rule lasted about two hours before I overwhelmed it.

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