Adam's Choice

The clink-a-clank of silverware broke the silence, forks and knives and spoons pinging against the best family china in an endless cacophony of cuisine.   Not a voice to be heard.  A sip of wine, a slice of turkey, a spoonful of mashed potatoes.  The only thing not on the menu was the elephant in the room.

The strike of the grandfather clock gave Warren an opening.

“Your mother tells me you’re joining a startup of some kind,” he said between bites.  Adam surveyed his plate for the hundredth time, eyes jumping between the colors, textures, and tastes assembled before him.  He glanced at a wall, then resumed his stare.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

Another helping of mac ‘n’ cheese for Dad.  Mom poured a little more red wine.  Adam put his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his hand.

“Grace, you really outdid yourself this year,” Warren said.  “It’s so...so wonderful.”  His wife forced a smile and nod.

The din of dinner returned.  The family methodically worked their way through their current servings, some members eating faster than others.  Father, mother, and son helped themselves to turkey and sides, then passed around their bowls.  Nothing was said.

Warren observed his son from the corners of his eyes.  He opened his mouth to speak, but lowered his chin as a bite of stuffing found its way in.  He fidgeted with his napkin, and turned back to Adam.

“You know, the offer is still on the table.  I’d love to have you take over daily operations at the mill.  Could use your help.”

Adam’s chews kept time with his tapping foot.  He forced a bite down his gullet, then washed it down with sparkling water.  A painful thirty seconds passed.  The grandfather clock chimed on the quarter-hour.

Grace set her wine glass down.  “So, Adam, what kind of business is this startup?”

The 24-year-old perked up and looked over to his mother.  He rushed to finish a bite.  “It’s, uh...it’s a new social media platform.  About a half-dozen other software guys.  They say it’s gonna be the next Facebook.”

Warren sighed.  Grace leaned forward and cleared her throat.  “Really?” she said. “Well, that’s exciting, I’m sure.  And-”

“Every new social media company says they’re gonna be the next Facebook,” Warren interrupted.  “Why would you-”

He caught his wife’s stare.

“What I mean is, I know a job like that can be a rush.  But lumber is steady, reliable work.  Has been for four generations.  Sure love to have you start the fifth.  You come work for me, you’ll get your future started off right.”  Warren beamed.

Adam’s foot tapping grew louder.

Grace cut a morsel of turkey and passed it over her lips, not taking her eyes off her son.  “Your father is just concerned, is all.”

Adam’s dinner fork clanged onto his plate.  “Look, Mom - Dad - I appreciate you two looking out for me.  But we’ve already discussed this.  I need to do this for me.  Not for my career or my future.  For me.  Okay?  I need to do this.”

Warren’s fingers trembled.  He flattened them against the table.

“Adam,” he said, “I understand.  I really do.  But please recons-”

“No, Dad.  No.”  The boy wiped his mouth with his napkin, then set it down on his lap.  He slouched back into his chair and gave a half-laugh.  “Come on, Dad.  I finally came home to visit you guys, and we’ve had a great past few days.  I don’t wanna get into an argument.  Can’t we just enjoy dinner?”

Grace’s pleading eyes met Warren halfway.  The parents readied their utensils and resumed their plate poking.  Adam joined in.

Another laborious sigh from Warren, and his fingers trembled again.  The 59-year-old withdrew his hand into his lap.

“Uh, Warren,” Grace said.  “Let me talk with you a minute, huh?”  She set her napkin down and scrambled off to the kitchen.  Adam ignored his parents.

Grace had her arms crossed in front of the sink.  Warren trudged into the kitchen.  “Yeah, yeah,” he started.  “I already know where you’re going with this.”

His wife turned to him.  “If you’re going to pressure him to stay here and work for you, then you need to tell him about-”

“I’m not going to pressure him.  Okay?”

Grace relaxed her shoulders and unclenched her jaw.  “Oh.  Well then why are you bringing this up again?”

Warren shrugged and leaned against the counter beside her.  “I just wanted to try one last time.  Before he really goes.”

Grace looked down at her apron.  She brushed away nothing, then turned back to her husband.  “He really is going, dear.  And he’ll be fine.”

“I wish I had your confidence.  It’s just, ever since that night.  Having to go to the hospital, praying he’d make it to morning.  I don’t wanna let my boy go.”

“I know, Warren.  But he’s got to live his own life.  We can’t protect him forever.  And you’re not….”  Her gaze found the floor.  She leaned over and embraced her husband.

“That’s why I‘m not gonna tell him about it,” Warren said.  “I can’t.”

Grace pushed herself back and stared into his eyes.  “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, you’re right.  He has to live his own life.  That means he has to really make his own choices.”

“Yeah but I didn’t mean...you have to tell him.”

Warren drew his wife of thirty-six years close, kissed her forehead, and snuggled her head against his chest.  “Grace, if I tell him, he’ll change his mind and stay here to work for me.”

“But I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“No, no, no.  I want Adam to want to stay here.  Not to do it because he feels obligated.  Someday he may decide to come back, if it gets worse.  But I want him to remember that I chose for him to live his own life.  He deserves that right, after coming so close...to….”

“Mom?  Dad?” Adam called.

Grace nodded and gently squeezed her husband’s hand.  She could still soothe the tremors in these early stages.

They both smiled and walked back into the dining room.