The night breezes by as we dine on anextravagant dinner. As the first course is served - baked pear androasted beet salad - the conversation at the table flows steadily.By the time the main course arrives - Beef Wellington atop whippedmashed potatoes with a side of brussel sprouts and candiedcranberries in a sweet brandy glaze - my father has gone into depthabout his latest courtroom endeavors and newest investments. Emilyfeigns a yawn at me. My father is not the most social ofbutterflies, and casual conversation is sometimes difficult forhim. Sports Center and reality TV don’t rank high on his TiVo list.He is brilliant though, and along with being a judge, he’s a shrewdbusinessman who loves the stock market. Dessert is served and it’sa holy experience on a plate; decadent chocolate cake topped withpeppermint drizzle and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.
I almost can’t believe how fast the night hascome and gone. Because before I know it, my father is helping meslip on my coat. We walk silently, side by side through the lobbyof the hotel. It’s all high ceilings and beautiful whitemarble.
“Alana,” he stops me, just before we walkoutside into the cold city air. “I’ve secured you a job after yougraduate,” he says in his businesslike demeanor.
“A job?”
“Yes, in the prosecutor’s office.”
“The prosecutor’s office?” I repeat, watchingmy tone. “I barely know anything about criminal law.”
“You’ll learn, you’re smart and on the jobtraining is the most informative classroom.”
“But daddy-”
“Alana,” he silences me with sharp breath.“You will accept this job I went out on a limb to get you. It willbe a stepping stone into a judicial position.”
“A judge?” I’ve never even considered thepossibility; I want to litigate big cases for huge corporations andhigh profile clients. I don’t want to try criminals, carry a hugecaseload or be pigeonholed. “Daddy, I don’t think-”
He interrupts me again, “Alana, I don’t thinkI was clear. Youwilltake this job, otherwise you may findyourself in the bursar’s office explaining to them why a tuitioncheck never materialized.”
I shut my mouth immediately. This is myfather, truly and fundamentally. I see red as I look at him, but Ikeep my emotions in check.
“Yes, daddy,” I submit, and then turn to walkout of the building.
“Alana,” he calls before I make it to thedoor. I turn to look at him and he’s digging around the insidepocket of his long formal dress coat. He pulls out a small box,“Merry Christmas.” He holds the present out in the palm of hishand, it’s wrapped in shiny silver paper with a glittery gold bow.There’s not one ounce of emotion on his face as I stand therestaring at his offering. I finally take the gift and open it.Inside is pair of large, square, diamond studs. They’re absolutelyflawless and reflect off every light in the room.
“They’re beautiful, thank you,” I sayhonestly, because they are and I love them, even though I hate himright now.
“They were your mother’s,” he says aloofly,and then walks out the door.
My heart aches I miss her so much.
I stand there in the middle of one of theworld’s most renowned hotels, and watch as my father slips into histown car. I feel nothing but utterly numb, emotionally segregatedand physically dismissed as dozens of holiday happy people come andgo around me. I stare down at the little piece of my mother I’mholding in my hand, and wonder how in the hell did a woman like herever love a man like him.
I walk into my dark apartment. It’s only11:30, I didn’t expect Ryan to be sleeping. Suddenly lights pop on,Christmas tree lights.
“Where did that come from?” I ask surprised.Gleaming in the middle of my living room is a six foot, fullydecorated tree.
“You needed a better tree.”
“The Grinch’s tree just wasn’t cutting it foryou, huh?”
“Nope, from now on, real trees taller thanus. It’s a stipulation.”
“A stipulation for what?” I inhale lightly,catching the delicious scent of pine.
“For the future.”
“That’s becoming your favorite word lately,”I sigh, slipping my coat off, and then my shoes.
Ryan looks at me with an anxious expression,“Alana, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. The future,” I groan asI walk across my tiny living room and take a seat on the floor nextto the tree, my ball gown pooling around me.
“What wrong with the future?” Ryan sits downnext to me. He’s wearing slim blue jeans and large collaredsweater.
“Nothing, except…it’s going to get reallyugly, really fast.”