4
I sat in silence for a long time.
The TV switched to a different program and started playing an old song.
The owner turned off the counter light, came over, and set down a fresh pot of tea for us.
I finally spoke. "Hard to say."
"It's not that I don't want to. I just don't know if I can go back."
"Technology is one of those things where a year or two away is fine, but seven years? Everything's changed."
"The work I was doing back then, nobody would have any use for it now."
Solomon waved that off. "That's an excuse."
"Sure, the tech evolves fast, but the underlying logic doesn't change. With the foundation you built back then, picking it back up wouldn't be hard."
"The real question is whether you want to."
Something stirred in me.
He read my expression and gave a slow nod, then raised his glass. "Enough talk. Everything that needs saying is in the drink."
After that we drank even more. Solomon started telling me about the changes at the institute over the years. Who'd been promoted, who'd jumped ship, who was leading a doctoral team now. Marvin had retired last year. Before he left, he'd mentioned me, said it was a shame.
I listened, nodding now and then.
By the end we were both drunk. He found a hotel nearby and dumped me onto a bed.
"Figure it out yourself tomorrow," he said, and left.
When I woke the next morning, I fumbled for my phone and glanced at the screen.
9:17.
It was packed with missed calls, all from Felicity.
The earliest one was at 7:40. The last one, three minutes ago.
I sat up. My head was still pounding.
I splashed water on my face, went downstairs, checked out, and hailed a cab to the office.
My phone rang twice more on the way. I didn't answer.
By the time I got to the company it was already 9:40.
I pushed open the conference room door and walked in. Every pair of eyes turned toward me.
Otis's expression was ugly. Not the kind of dark that comes with anger, but the quiet before a storm.
"Joseph, do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Work starts at eight. You waltz in at nine forty-five?"
"Wow, bro, you've really got some nerve." Steve leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. "Making the entire senior leadership wait just for you."
Valerie chimed in. "We all agreed today was the board meeting, and you show up this late. Are you trying to make someone look bad on purpose?"
Otis stared at me, tapping two fingers against the table.
"Where's the business plan?"
I stood where I was, my expression calm. "I threw it away."
The conference room went silent for a full second.
"What did you just say?"
Otis's voice dropped low.
"I said I threw it away." I repeated myself. "Yesterday, in the hallway. Tossed it in the trash."
Steve shot upright in his chair. "Are you out of your mind? The board's been waiting on that, and you threw it away?"
"Joseph, what is that supposed to mean?" Valerie's voice pitched higher. "Did you do this on purpose?"
Otis raised a hand, cutting them both off.
"Joseph, I'm going to give you one chance to explain yourself."
Seven years. In seven years, he had never once spoken to me in that tone.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't disappointment. It was the condescension of I'm giving you a chance. As if my standing here at all was some kind of gift he'd bestowed.
"There's nothing to explain. I threw it away."
"You—!"
Steve shot to his feet, eyes blazing like he wanted to tear me apart.
Otis told him to sit down.
Steve glanced at his father, then dropped back into his seat.
Otis turned to me, tapping the table twice more.
"Joseph, in all your years at Henson Group, I believe I've treated you more than fairly."
"I started you in admin and gave you opportunities, step by step. The marketing department, the product line, the new brand launch. Which one of those doors didn't I open for you?"
"The company is about to go public, and you've turned the most critical proposal into this. How do you expect the board to see you?"
Valerie sneered from the side. "How else would they see him? You can't polish a turd. We've given him chance after chance, and it's the same thing every time."
Steve jumped in. "Dad, he did it on purpose. He probably thinks the family's been unfair to him, so he's taking it out on the work."
"I've seen his type a hundred times. No talent, but plenty of pride. Can't deliver results, so he throws a tantrum instead."
The other Henson family members on the board sat off to the side, their expressions carefully neutral. Some scrolled through their phones. Others flipped through the documents in front of them. Nobody said a word.
Felicity hadn't spoken at all. Her face was blank, her teeth pressing into her lower lip.
Otis spoke again, every word landing like a hammer.
"Joseph, your attitude today is deeply disappointing."
"We'll set the proposal aside for now. You showed up over an hour late and made this entire room wait for you. What kind of behavior is that?"
"Do you have any respect left for discipline? For this company?"
Steve laughed. "Dad, give it a rest. He's still technically a Henson son-in-law, even if he's worth less than the family dog."
I cut him off.
"Enough."
"I'm not here to hand in some proposal."
"I'm here to tell you that starting today, I am no longer an employee of Henson Group."
"And I am no longer a son-in-law of the Henson family."
The conference room went dead silent. So silent you could hear the low hum of the air conditioning.
I turned and looked at Felicity. Her face was frozen in shock.
"Felicity. Let's get divorced."
