The Epitome of Confidence

The chair made a small squeak as he sat down. A woman strode over and angled a large light to illuminate his face. He blinked against the intensity, his sensitive eyes watering behind his thick frames. He fumbled slightly with his blazer, not knowing whether it looked better with one button closed or two. He finally settled on only buttoning one button, remembering that was his usual go-to. He ran a pass down his wrinkle-free pants, the dry cleaner making sure his pants were pressed to perfection. 

A well-dressed woman with bright red hair sat down across from him and gave him a welcoming smile as a crew member adjusted the small microphone attached to the neckline of her dress. She reminded him a little bit of Josie, his wife. A smile that could turn a stranger to a friend in an instant. 

The camera man gave the woman a thumbs up from behind the lens and he plastered on his best smile. The show had begun. 

“Mr. James Gilroy. I want to start by first saying thank you for taking the time out of your very busy schedule to take a moment and sit down with me.”

He waved off her comment with a well-practiced gesture; one that denoted the humility that he had worked to cultivate. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Jessica.”

“While I’m sure that’s not true, I appreciate the sentiment regardless.” She said with a small laugh. 

“So that I’m not taking up too much of your time with filler, I figured we would cut straight to the chase of why we’re all here today. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Jessica. I was looking forward to discussing the weather with you but maybe we can save that for later.”

A polite smattering of laughter sounded through the room. 

“Entrepreneur of the Year. What an amazing accomplishment. How does it feel?”

He gave a wide a smile at the question. Those who knew him well enough might have noticed the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Amazing. Absolutely amazing. I didn’t think I would ever make it here and it’s been such a gratifying and wonderful journey. I’m just extremely humbled with the whole thing.” That was a lie. He knew he would make it to this point. He did everything in his power to make sure he did. But, it wouldn’t come across well if he said that. 

“I’m told you were quite the menace to your mother when you were younger; taking apart every electrical and mechanical object in the house.”

He let out a laugh at that. Not too loud. Not too long. 

“Oh yes. I definitely ran my mother ragged as she chased me around the house telling me to stop taking apart the remotes and the computers.”

“It clearly worked out well for you though. Now you’re the CEO of one of the biggest manufacturers of computer processing chips in the world.” 

“I do have to thank my mother’s unending patience for that accomplishment. As well as my beautiful wife Josie, who sacrificed her own time by taking care of our home and raising our beautiful children while I took such a big risk.”

“You and your wife have been married for 23 years, correct?”

“23 blissful years, that’s correct.” His smile faltered at that. Not enough for anyone to notice. Not enough for the cameras to pick up. 

“Do you have any comment to the rumor that you and Josie are separated?” His smile disappeared. Jessica’s smile remained. A different kind of silence settled around the room as everyone eagerly awaited a response. He shuffled in his seat slightly but forced himself to remain stoic and to not fidget so as to keep his air of composure and self-assurance. He worked too hard to perfect it for it to crumble in an instant. 

“I would say those rumors are baseless and wholly inaccurate.” He replied. He refrained from saying anything more. Stopped himself from going on a tangent about how much he loves his wife and how great their lives were. He already knew that defending himself too much would look worse than not defending himself at all. 

“Are the rumors about your mistress, and your child with her, wholly inaccurate as well?”

He felt the air rush out of him in an instant; the words a gut punch that left him breathless. He coughed slightly, damning his body for reacting. His peripherals narrowed until all he could see was Jessica’s friend-making smile. As he looked, the smile morphed in his mind; no longer friendly but calculating and deceitful. 

“I’m sorry, Jessica.” He said, a weak smile forming. “I was under the impression this was an interview for Entrepreneur of the Year; not a witch hunt.”

“So should I write down ‘no comment’?” Jessica asked.

He began pulling the cord to his microphone, placing the pack down on the table with a thud. “I believe this interview is over.”

“Thank you for your time.” Jessica said, standing up with hand outstretched.

He ignored her and made his way out the doors. He walked down to his waiting car, making sure to walk with his shoulders pulled back and head held high; the epitome of confidence. The interview was a disaster but he wasn’t going to let the world know.

He made his way to meeting after meeting, the once jealous stares of his subordinates turning to looks of either pity or hunger. They were gunning for his position and he wasn’t going to give it up that easily. He finally had everything he ever wanted and it wasn’t going to end like this. It couldn’t. 

The night had settled in by the time he made it back home. He said goodnight to his driver and waved hello to the neighbors sitting on their front porch. Once inside, he closed all the front blinds and as the last one shut his shoulder slumped, his posture bowing to the floor. He stood by the window for a few minutes. He wasn’t ready to turn around and face his new reality. 

He finally turned around and made his way to the kitchen, his steps echoing through the empty house. His eyes intentionally skipped over the letter on the island as he made his way over to the pantry and collected a dinner of chips and cookies. He polished off both bags and walked over to the trash, avoiding the piece of paper by taking the long way around the island. He couldn’t look at it. Not yet. Not again. 

He walked throughout the halls, his steps echoing through the empty rooms. He hovered within each door way as if hoping that something, or someone, might pop out. Each sound of a car outside caused him to look through the blinds, his hope being crushed with each one passing past his windows. He completed his nightly walk through as he always did; back in the kitchen, hovering beside the island and over the letter that had been left two weeks ago. The note on top was written in his wife’s flowing letters. 

I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. 

He had removed the wedding ring that was placed on top of it and put it back in the jewelry box that he got her as a late anniversary present. He had been in a meeting the night of and didn’t think it was important enough to cancel. He knew she would understand that he was working to provide the life they had always wanted. 

He read the tear-stained letter over again:

James, 

I’ve written this letter a thousand times and each time the words never feel right. But, I owe it to Charlie to write them so I’m just going to let them come out however they want. 

I loved you James. I loved the time we had but I knew what it was from the beginning; a fun romp in the sheets and a great story to tell my friends. Charlie was never meant to happen. But, I thank God everyday that he did. As much as our relationship might have hurt me, I wouldn’t change a thing because it gave me the best gift I ever had. I know you wanted to act as if it never happened. As if he never existed. But, he did. He was such an exceptional young man and I so wished you could have experienced him. That you could have met him and loved him the way that I did. I cursed you in my head when Charlie would cry and ask about his father. I cursed you out loud to my friends when Charlie was the only boy on the football team without a dad to run plays with him. But, I praised your name when it was written under the check for his chemotherapy. I praised your name when the doctor’s said the chemotherapy was working. I cursed it again when the cancer came back. I promised to spit on your grave when you didn’t show up to his funeral. I’m writing this to say that I forgive you. Not for myself as I would rather spend the rest of my life hating you. I’m doing this for Charlie, whose heart would want me to live a life in peace and forgiveness. If you had met him you would know that I’m writing the truth. He never hated you, you know? Never once cursed your name the way that I did because he was better than me. Better than you. And now he’s gone. 

I hope you can embody even an ounce of what Charlie was. He had you in him so I believe there’s got to be some of the goodness in you. I only wish that you can finally find it. 

The letter had come in the mail two weeks ago and his wife had read it first. The kids were grown and out of the house and she was looking for a reason to stay. Instead, she found a reason to finally leave. 

He made his way to his bedroom and fitfully slept until he awoke to his alarm in the morning. He got dressed sluggishly, still fumbling with the tie he hadn’t had to tie himself for the past 23 years. He ate a bowl of cereal and opened up the front blinds. He stood at the front door, his shoulders slumped and his hand on the knob. He let out a breath and opened it. He strode out the door with his shoulders back and head held high and greeted his driver; the epitome of confidence.