by Alex Wolf
“Hello?”
“Meadow?”
My blood goes cold the second I hear the voice, and I can’t believe I was just thinking about this asshole and then he calls from my mother’s phone.
It’s my father. How the hell is he calling me from her number?
Despite the fact I hate him with every fiber of my being, I’m actually kind of glad, because now I can take all this frustration out on him and not feel an ounce of regret, because he deserves it.
“One of the smartest men the world has ever known, yet you fail to realize I don’t want to fucking talk to you, ever. Haven’t you gotten that message yet? Processed the data? I ignore every one of your calls, smile as I hit that little red button on my phone. Nothing makes me happier. How the hell did you mask this to look like mom was calling me?”
“Meadow, it’s important. I didn’t mask the call. This is your mother’s phone.”
I laugh. It’s not a real laugh though. It’s the kind when you hear something so utterly absurd it’s all you can do.
“What game are you playing?”
“I’m out on temporary parole.”
I scoff. “No. There’s no fucking way.” I shake my head as I say it. “What is this? And even if that’s true, why the fuck are you at Mom’s? She wouldn’t allow it.” I know that’s not true, but I’m so goddamn furious I just want to hurt him any way I can. He deserves it.
“They let me out for spousal support. To take care of my wife.”
“Take care of your wife?” I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper because I could murder this man. “She doesn’t need you. She has me. There’s no justice in this world for white-collar crime, is there? Bribed your way into a sweet deal, didn’t you? Fucking unbelievable.”
“It really is for your mom. She’s sick.”
“Bullshit.” I shake my head again. How much worse could this night get? First Wells, now this asshole. “Why didn’t the doctors call me? Why didn’t she call me? You make no sense.”
“Your mother wanted you to hear it from me. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for a few days, but you wouldn’t accept the calls. I just got here.”
“You’re at Mom’s house?”
“Yes, I can’t go anywhere else. I have a, umm, monitor.”
“Wonderful.” I sigh the most sarcastic sigh of all time. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Don’t fucking touch her or even look at her.” I hang up before he can say anything else.
Suddenly, Wells Covington and that situation is the furthest thing from my mind.
I pace back and forth on the side of the road, just waiting for the Uber driver, worried, upset, angry. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this pissed off in my life. Part of me wants to run back to the mansion and see if I can take him up on his offer with his driver.
As much as I want to do that, should do that, I just can’t, and I know the reason I can’t show weakness is the stupid fuck that just called my phone. He made me this way, and he’s about to hear about it.
I blow through the front door of my mom’s house, straight past my dad, not even bothering to look at him. I say, “Stay the fuck out of here and away from me,” as I walk into my mom’s room.
She’s in bed but doesn’t look much different from how she normally does.
“Mom.” I don’t mean to, but I sprint to the bed and take her by the hand. “Is everything okay with you?” I look her up and down. “You look okay.” As I say it, I feel the rage burning in my chest, and my eyes narrow on her. I grit my teeth. “Why the hell is he here?”
“I look better than I am. Sit down, Meadow.” She pats the bed like I’m still a six-year-old child.
I want to yell, scream, punch something, but I don’t. Instead, I take a seat next to her. “What are you talking about? You were fine, what? A month ago, when I saw you? We went to the Chinese place around the corner.”
“Meadow?”
“What?”
“It’s been three months since we went to lunch.”
The air sucks out of my lungs, and I shake my head. “What?” I do my best to play it off. “No, that can’t—”
“It’s true. And I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I know you’re busy.” Her hand reaches out and she smothers my forearm with it.
Has it been that long since I saw her? Fuck, I’m the worst daughter ever.
I think for a minute. I know what she just said is true, I just lie to myself about it. I know I get laser-focused on singular purposes, and time slips by around me, I just didn’t think it could possibly be that long. My eyes dart down to the ground, and I can’t even look at her.
Her hand reaches up from my forearm and she puts it on my cheek. “It’s okay. It’s who you are, and I love who you are. Do you understand me?”
I nod against her hand. “What’s wrong? He said you’re sick.”
Mom nods a little and looks like she’s more worried about how I’ll react, than how she actually feels. She’s always been that way. She might be the strongest person I’ve ever known, always protecting everyone else instead of herself.
Finally, she says, “Glioblastoma. Stage four.”
“Brain cancer?” My heart squeezes so damn hard I think I might have a heart attack. My brain goes into overdrive, doing the math on everything I know about glioblastoma, like I can see the Wikipedia page in my mind. It’s the most aggressive type of brain tumor. My mental image scrolls to the prognosis section. She probably has twelve months, maybe a little more, but possibly less. A tear streams down my cheek. “Wh-why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve gone to the doctor. I could’ve stepped away from work.” I do my best to hold back, be strong in front of her. She once told me the only thing that could hurt her was seeing me in pain.
“I didn’t know it was going to be this. I was just having migraines. Thought I had a sinus infection that got out of control, but it didn’t get any better.”
I’m angry at the world for doing this to my mom. I definitely don’t want to be angry at her, for having him call me like that, especially when she’s going through this, but what the hell? I shouldn’t ask the next question. I think part of me already knows the answer, but I do it anyway. “Why did you tell him first?” I already regret it. How fucking selfish can I be right now? I can’t believe I had the balls to hate Covington over his house, when I’m behaving like this, having the thoughts I’m having. I just don’t know how she can still love the man out there in the hallway the way she does.
“Because I thought—” She pauses, as if collecting her thoughts to make sure she explains appropriately. “I thought I might get one positive out of this situation. If I can get you and your father to reconcile, then it would make the best out of a bad situation.”
“A bad situation? Mom, you’re dying.” I try to bite my tongue, but I’ve never been able to hold back. Not about something like this. “We can talk about this more, after we come up with a plan. We’ll do every single thing that’s right for you, and I will be by your side no matter what, doing whatever you need. But I’m telling you right now, I will never forgive him for what he did to us. I just won’t. Now, let’s put that to the side and just focus on you for a bit.” I crawl up in bed, so I’m sitting next to her, and I take her hand.
For the next fifteen minutes, we just cry together. I don’t think the news had really sunk in until I was up in the bed with her. She had to feel like she was living in a dream world, just walking in a daze, and the whole time she was struggling this week I was out and about, doing whatever I usually do, worried about Wells Covington and other insignificant shit.
I’m so self-centered. I’m everything I hate right now.
When we’re done, Mom looks at me for a moment, then surprisingly, she smiles.
“What?”
“Thank you. I needed that. To do that, feel sorry for myself for a little while.”
“You deserve it. If anyone does, you do.” I wipe my eyes and try to smile for her. “This s
till doesn’t feel real to me. I don’t get it. You’re the healthiest person I know.”
“Things happen, sweetie.”
I try not to lose it again when I look her in the eye. I want to hold it together for her, but every regret in my life bubbles up to the surface. All the wasted time, all this activism, trying to change the world with my impact fund. I could’ve spent that time with Mom. I have a ton of money, more than I could ever need, and I give most of it away every month. We could’ve gone on trips, had lunches, spent time together. Yeah, it’d be awkward for me, doing those things. I’m not that great at them. But that’s what daughters are supposed to do. Those were my obligations and I blew it. I always thought I’d have time to settle down, maybe even meet someone, have a family. Dropping grandkids off at her house for weekends, her being over for family dinners. I don’t know. We’ll never have any of that now.
I always saw “normal” being right off on the horizon somewhere, after I accomplished things I wanted to accomplish, and then I’d do all that. It’s all gone now.
“Sweetie?”
“Yeah?”
“I have a request. It might make you a little upset.”
I shake my head, intent on doing whatever she asks without protesting. “Whatever you want. I’ll do it.” I say the words without even thinking it through.
“I want to spend some time with your father.”
I frown, remembering he’s still in the damn house.
“You don’t have to be in here for it. But I don’t want you to leave yet. Do you mind?”
I look at her for a long time, then finally nod a little. “I’ll do my best to be civil. For you. Only for you. But I’m done with him, Mom. I’m sorry. That’s just the way it is. He did this, not me.”
She looks away, then back at me. “He still loves you, just the same as he did. You were two peas in a pod.” She laughs a little, as if she’s recalling happier times.
I’ve blocked all those memories, stuffed them somewhere deep and dark where I won’t want to ever retrieve them again.
“Were is the keyword there, Mom. Were two peas in a pod.”
She pats my hand, still managing to smile after everything she’s been through. “Okay. Well, please don’t go anywhere yet. I like having you both in the house again, even if it’s in different rooms, under these circumstances.”
Fuck me, the guilt. It’s bad. “I won’t go anywhere. I promise. Right outside in the living room.”
“Okay.”
I get up and walk out of the room. Dad’s sitting on a bench in the hallway with his head down, holding it in his hands.
I glare. “She wants you.” I walk right past him and don’t even look in his direction.
Once I’m in the living room, I plop down on the couch, and I think I might hyperventilate. It feels like the walls are closing in on me and I can’t breathe. What the fuck? How did my life take this turn? Everything, all at once. It started with Covington at his place, and then escalated like a damn rocket into the stratosphere.
I turn on the TV, something I never do, just for a distraction. Just to pull me out of the moment for just a second and give me a chance to breathe.
I try not to yell, but I cover my mouth and scream, “Fuck!”
“Meadow. Meadow.”
Someone pokes me in the arm, saying my name.
My eyes flutter open, and I smile for a second as I wake up, then my whole body constricts at once as I recognize the face in front of me.
A glare slowly forms. “The fuck do you want?”
My father smirks back at me. “Such civilized language.”
I spring up from the couch, right in his face. “I’ll show you civilized, asshole.”
He holds up a hand. “Calm down, please. I’d like to think we’ve evolved past this primitive behavior.”
I take a few steps away from him then turn around, putting distance between us. “Is Mom done with you in there? She send you to come get me?”
For a moment we both glare back and forth at each other. It’s so hard, seeing him. We’re so alike, and so painstakingly different at the same time. He’s my biggest fear in life. That I’ll end up like him, go down that path.
My childhood was spent watching him transform from hero to villain.
I shake my head at him. “What promises did you make to get out?”
“That’s not your concern, Meadow. My wife, your mother, is the concern here. So, we’re going to have to work out our differences. We owe it to her.”
I point a finger at him. “I don’t owe you shit. And I’ll take care of Mom. You can go on back to your little cell, where you belong.”
“That’s not going to happen, and it’s not up to you.”
I stand there, practically shaking, because I know he’s right. I have no control over this and it’s going to consume me from the inside out. I hate myself for being this way. I hate being like him, needing to control every single variable and account for every single action. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, a hammer banging a wall over and over, everything racing through my head, nonstop.
I walk toward Mom’s room but stop next to him on my way. “I’m done with this conversation. I will do each and every thing Mom requires and be there for her. But there is nothing left between us, and that’s your fault. Not mine.” I shoulder past him and head to the hallway.
“You’ve never made a mistake before, Meadow?”
I turn around, and it looks like I just crushed him, like he finally realized how ridiculous he’s behaving. I shake my head, not falling for his pity tactics. “Not the kind you did. Not the kind you haven’t owned up to or apologized for. I didn’t leave my family behind to clean up my mess.”
“I’ve admitted I made a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, creating a legacy for the family name.” He scoffs. “Not that our name will carry on, anyway.”
“Fuck you and the family name.”
“So pure. Always out to save the world, aren’t you? I’m going to be here, whether you like it or not. So, make peace and get on board with that. I won’t abandon your mother again.”
I sneer at him and turn around and head to Mom’s room.
The worst part is, I know he means every word of what he said. I know he loves my mom, more than just about anything. I know he’ll help take good care of her, but I want nothing to do with him.
Nothing.
It’ll be a miracle if I don’t kill him.
Wells Covington
I sit in the meeting with Penn Hargrove at The Hunter Group, but I can’t stop thinking about Meadow. In fact, she’s really the reason I’m here. She’s been dodging my calls for days, and I haven’t had time to track her down in person.
For someone who wants my real estate development for whatever reason, she sure doesn’t act too interested. I thought it meant something to her, but apparently not.
Can’t believe she wrote me off like that, summed me up all just by looking at my house, after the things I told her, the way I exposed myself to her. Oh well, chasing her down will be the best part. That’s the real fun.
The hunt.
“I think I’m a little confused on why you wanted to meet with me, Mr. Covington. What exactly are we doing?”
I lean back in my chair and play dumb. “I want to know about impact funds.”
He cocks his head like you’re paying me a grand an hour to tell you something you should already know more about than me?
“I mean, I’m just a lawyer. I work with impact funds. It’s really no different than a hedge fund, they just look to make a positive change with their investments, be it social, environmental, or some other altruistic objective. I’m not active in the management of any. What’s your goal here?”
“Thinking about adding one to my firm, in-house, actively managed by me. At a high level of course. Curious to any additional administrative overheads I may not be including in my calculations. Are there any additional regulations I’m not aware of?”
“The main problem is how you market the investments. It’s appropriate to use correct terminology to avoid any bad faith arguments of greenwashing dollars. I would advise to keep everything independent of your other operations, and to have internal processes in place because determining which investments provide positive social change and the impact you want can get murky during selection. If you want contacts, I can put you in touch with people. The best in the business, really.”
I was already aware of a lot of this, so it’s not groundbreaking news. I’m not sure what I thought I’d get out of this meeting. All I can think about is Meadow and that kiss, and how I know she runs her own impact fund. Maybe I just felt I’d be more connected to her, discussing these things with my legal representation.
“You could handle the legal work and entity structuring, though? If I were to organize a fund like this?”
Penn’s eyes light up, like he just saw dollar signs. “Absolutely. I can handle any of those needs.”
“You looking for a new job?” I grin at him.
“Like I said, I’d be better off here. I’m not an investment guy. It wouldn’t be worth the hassle to hire me for in-house legal work, not for something this size. It won’t even be full-time work for one employee, and your options will be limited.”
“You mean a limited pool of investments? Impossible to scale.”
“Exactly. There are a much smaller, finite amount of investments that can change the world, depending on the criteria you decide on. Then, you’re not only competing with other impact funds, but every other hedge fund in existence, like your own, who might not care if it’s good or bad for the world, but they want the return. It’s a tough egg to crack.”
I bet Meadow thrives under that kind of pressure. No wonder she’s so formidable, all while trying to keep it hush hush. It makes me want her even more.
I stand up and shake his hand. “Thanks, Penn. I appreciate this.”
“Any time. Just holler at me if you decide to make a go of it.”
“Will do.”
