Lost December (10 page)

For once, the party wasn’t all Sean claimed it would be. As usual, he was drunk by eleven and left the party with some young blonde who looked like she was barely eighteen. Lucy and Marshall left a half hour later. I stayed and drank and listened to some woman tell me why she’d dumped her boyfriend—an agonizingly long prelude to informing me that she was available and desperate. I wished I had gone with James. I wished I had gone with Candace for that matter. It was a wasted night.

I woke the next morning to Candace shaking me. “Luke, wake up.”

I rolled over in bed and opened my eyes. The morning light glared through my window and my head throbbed from too many beers. Then I realized that Sean, Marshall, Lucy and Candace were all standing above me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Did you hear about James?” Candace asked.

“James? We’re supposed to get pancakes this morning.”

Candace looked over at Marshall. The look on their faces troubled me.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated. “What’s going on?”

Sean looked at me with dull eyes. “James was in an accident.”

I looked back and forth between them. “What?”

“Last night,” Marshall said, “He was hit by a drunk driver.”

Sleep left me. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

“He was killed,” Candace said.

I sat up. “Killed? I just … I was just with him. We’re going to get pancakes.” I looked back and forth between them. “This can’t be.”

“It’s true,” Candace said.

I felt sick to my stomach. “No, it can’t be.” My eyes began to well up with tears.

Candace sat down on the bed next to me. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“If I had gone with him …” I said.

“If you had gone with him, you might have been killed too,” Marshall said. “He was hit by some drunk kid celebrating his graduation. The kid ran a red light and hit James in a crosswalk.”

“I just can’t believe it,” I said. “Why James? He did everything by the book. He worked hard, he went to church, he believed in God. None of it saved him.”

“The good die young,” Sean said.

“It’s not right,” Candace said.

“It’s not a matter of right or wrong,” Sean said, “it’s what is and what isn’t. Death can come at any time. Accept it or not,
death comes all the same. The only question is, what are you going to do about it.”

Three days after graduation we attended James’s funeral in Philadelphia. He was buried with his graduation sash, the family’s first college graduate. The ceremony was simple and brief and affected me powerfully. I fought back tears the entire time. Candace held tightly to my hand throughout the service. Afterward, Candace and I went up to talk to his parents.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Candace said to them. “James was a good man.”

His father’s eyes were swollen and red. “He was a good son,” he said. “We were very proud of him.”

All I could think to say was, “God bless you.” Then I turned away. We left after that. We all went back to Sean’s house and sat in the front room in a grief-induced stupor. Gone was our usual banter and laughter. Sean brought out a bottle of bourbon and poured us shots. As we finished the bottle, I said to Sean, “We’re going to Europe with you.”

Candace looked at me. “What?”

“We’re going to Europe with them,” I said.

Even with her grief, she looked distressed. “Can we talk about this?”

“No. I’ve made up my mind.”

“I can’t afford to go to Europe.”

“You don’t need to,” I said. “I’ve got a trust fund. I’m bringing you.”

She looked at me for a moment, then said, “You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can,” I said. “Look at James. He postponed his life and never got the chance to live it. We don’t have time to waste. We need to start living now.” I turned back to Sean. “I’m going. Final answer.”

“Bravo,” Sean said.

Candace sighed. “Well, if you’re going, I’m going with you.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said. “We’re both going. All that’s left to do is to tell my father.”

Today I broke my father’s heart
.

Luke Crisp’s Diary

Phoenix is a furnace in summer, but as I pulled into the parking lot of Crisp’s headquarters, I think I was sweating as much from my nerves as from the heat. My father had built the seven-story building two years before I left for Wharton and had filled the whole of it with Crisp’s operations. For the first time in my life I felt uneasy walking through the front doors of the business.

It had been nearly a year since I’d seen my father. I wasn’t sure how he would react to my decision to abandon Crisp’s for an indulgent excursion around Europe for an indefinite period of time, but I was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be received well.

I took the elevator to the seventh floor and took a deep breath before stepping out of it. Mary walked around her desk as I entered the office, her arms outstretched to hug me. “Luke, it’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I replied, taking her embrace.

“I’ll let your father know you’re here. He’s just getting off a conference call right now. He’s so excited to see you. We all are.”

“Me too,” I said, thinking my words sounded feigned. “It’s good to be home.”

As Mary picked up the phone, a voice boomed behind me, “What’s wrong with security? They’re letting anyone in off the street.” I turned around to see a grinning Henry walking into the office. “Welcome back, my boy.”

Henry was in his mid-forties, short and athletically built. The last time I’d seen him, he was losing the battle of the bald. Now, magically, he had a full head of hair.

“Nice locks,” I said.

“My new rug,” Henry said, tilting his head slightly to show off his hairpiece. “I can even swim in it.”

“Now you’re going to be fighting women off with a stick.”

“That’s the idea,” Henry said. He stuck out his hand. “Congratulations on your graduation. The family’s first M.B.A.”

“Yeah, well I think they’ve done pretty well without one.”

“Most of the time,” Henry said. I had no idea what he meant by the comment but let it slide.

“Luke.”

I turned around to see my father standing in the doorway of his office. I was surprised by how different he looked to me—how much older. It had been longer than I realized. He walked slowly across the room. We embraced.

After we parted, I asked, “You feeling okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Just a little sore from this morning’s squash match. Come in, come in. Let’s talk.”

I followed him into his office and he shut the door behind us. Everything, except my father, looked exactly the same as
it had when I left. I sat down in a tucked leather chair in front of his desk, and he walked in front of me, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I’m so proud of you, Luke. Our first M.B.A.”

“It’s no big deal,” I said.

“It’s a very big deal,” he replied. His eyes were filled with pride. “I’ve been so excited for your return. And so ready to get started.”

I looked at him. “Started?”

A large smile crossed his face. “On the transition. I’m ready to start turning the company over to you.”

I knit my fingers together in my lap, not sure what to say.

When I didn’t speak, his expression turned. “You’re not happy about this? I thought you’d be happy …”

“I’m not ready.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been ready for years. You were raised in these stores. You know them better than anyone but me—and I’m ready to hand over the reins.”

“Dad …” I just looked at him. I could see concern cross his face. “Look, I don’t want to do this.”

My father looked at me without comprehension. “It doesn’t have to happen overnight.”

“I mean
ever.”

A shadow came over his face. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to chain myself to Crisp’s.”

He just looked at me quietly for a moment. “I don’t understand. What do you want to do?”

“I want to
live.”

“I still don’t understand,” he said.

“I want to really live. I want to experience life. I’ve worked since I was twelve.”

He looked confused.

“Did I tell you about my friend, James?” I asked.

My father shook his head. “Your roommate?”

“No, James was another friend of mine. He was a serious guy. Hardworking, very religious. He graduated third in our class.”