“That must be an amazing story of how you went from homeless kid to owning your own business,” Bob said next to me.
“My mom always got me to school. She had to lie about where we lived sometimes, but I went. She hammered into me that education and hard work was the key to my escaping poverty. I believed her. She was right.”
“Where is she now?” Denise asked.
“She died when I was in college.” I never knew the circumstances of her death. I don’t think she took her own life, but I believed it was possible her will to live left. Since she didn’t have me to take care of, she didn’t have a reason to hang around.
I always regretted I never had the chance to make things better for her. My mother had a lot of challenges and faults, but I loved her. There was so much we didn’t have and she couldn’t give me, but who I was today--an educated man with money--was directly from her. She gave me the one lesson I needed; make your own destiny. But she also instilled a fear of the world. A fear of not having enough.
“How’d you pay for college?” the angry woman, now not so angry, asked.
“Loans. Scholarships. Work.” Why were we talking about this? How was all this going to help me do better by Terra?
“This is a bit out of our purview,” Sam started. “But I think maybe you should get some counseling to help you get a handle on your childhood as it’s clearly impacting your life now.”
I stared at him, clueless as to what he meant. I wasn’t a kid or poor now, so what the fuck was he talking about?
“Does your working a lot feel like a compulsion? Like you have to work?” Denise asked probably in response to my blank look at Sam’s suggestion that I get counseling.
“I feel like I need to stay on top of things. Businesses can fail.”
She nodded in that same way that suggested I’d just revealed another bit about myself. “It’s possible that your need to work is because you’re afraid of ending up homeless and poor again.”
Well, duh. “It could happen. My mom didn’t grow up poor. She was laid off and couldn’t ever get on her feet again.”
“Do you really think that could happen? Do you have savings? Skills? Does your wife?” Sam asked.
I did have savings and investments, but those weren’t one-hundred percent safe. The economy could tank. We’d lose a lot in a recession. Terra didn’t work, but she had skills and her father had money.
“I suppose there’s a back-up, but I don’t like relying on others for my security.”
Denise and Sam both nodded like I’d just validated their assessment. I wasn’t sure how wanting to avoid being broke and homeless again was a big surprise or a need for counseling.
“Brayden, I can see that you love your wife and want to make sure that you and your family are cared for, but let me ask you this; if your wife can’t beat this cancer and you lose her, will you regret having worked so much?” Bob asked. “Will you feel like you should have spent more time with her?”
“Yes.” I answered without hesitation, and in that moment, Sam and Denise’s insistence that my childhood could be hindering me made sense.
“Well, as far as I can tell, that’s your answer, and you didn’t need another therapist to get it,” Bob said with a friendly smile. “I can tell you from experience, if you love your family, you need to spend every moment you can with them. You need to love and cherish them. I’d do anything to look into my wife’s lovely eyes again. To touch her face.” Bob choked up.
“I agree,” the man who was married to Lisa said. “I’d quit if I could.”
I felt a rush of shame and guilt. What the fuck was wrong with me? Was I really letting my childhood fears interfere in my marriage? In being there for Terra and the kids?
I wasn’t just an asshole. I was a selfish asshole. Fortunately, I was struck with a moment of clarity and the answer to fix my situation and my marriage hit me like a thunderbolt. It had been there the whole time.
At the end of group, I hurried out, getting in my car, I wove through the afternoon traffic back to the office.
“Hold all calls. I want no interruptions,” I said to Johanna as I strode into my office and shut the door. I sat at my desk, picked up the phone, and made a call that would fix everything.
22
Terra (Wednesday)
I cried for a good ten minutes in the car. I told myself it was over the cancer, but if I was honest, it was about Brayden. It was grief as I finally understood that while I believed he loved me and the kids, his work would always be first. I tried to be understanding that his compulsion to work was probably a psychological need for security, and not something against me or the kids.
But because he did have this obsessive need to work, I had to beat this cancer to be there for my kids, because I couldn’t be sure Brayden would change. He hadn’t for me. I had no reason to think he’d do so for the kids.
One part of me thought I was being too hard on him. He’d made an effort during my treatment. But the pull of his work was always there. When he wasn’t in direct need by me, his choice was to be at work, not at home
