One by J. A. Laraque Page B

stand, not anymore. Seeing him walk toward me I just wanted to run back toward the car, but even if I had done that I would not have escaped.
    “ I doubt that is what’s bothering you. What’s wrong Tim?”
    Unlike many people who feign interest in people’s problems my father wanted to know what was on the minds of his children good or bad. The Lincoln Park senior class would be graduating three days later, but up until then most of the seniors would still be attending classes.
    “ Jonathan transferred here. I don’t want to run into him.”
    “ After your fight…?”
    Just because a parent cares, enough to ask you about your life, your friends and your troubles does not mean a child will openly talk about them. My father unlike my mother was very good at getting us to talk out our feelings without asking many questions and without appearing to be prying.
    “ Our fight…”
    I felt the frustration well up inside me. Turning around I wanted to return to the car more than ever and yet I wanted my father to understand that what happened between Jonathan and me was not my fault and was something that could have been easily remedied, only if…
    “ It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t even care; it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t make him leave.”
    “ Then tell me, what was it that made him leave?”
    The reasons people disconnect from each other often seems incredibly stupid when explained to an outside party. Why would two family members who love each other stop talking for years over a baking recipe? I would laugh at something like that with Jonathan blaming it on their inability to use their reason. There is always a solution and it can be found if you think it through, especially if done together and yet knowing all that I allowed it to happen.
    “ There’s nothing to tell. It’s…stupid.”
    A lie on two counts, there was something to tell and I wanted to tell it and it was not stupid, it was an all too common problem that separates those who will from those who will not.
    “ Stupid or not, why don’t you tell me anyway?”
    Looking back toward him there was no doubt he knew me. Most parents never really know their children, but with my father it was different. He knew what to say to get me to talk and he knew that I needed this, to explain out loud not just to him, but to myself.
    “ He knew high school would be different. I told him how things would be, that we couldn’t be kids anymore, not if we wanted to make something of ourselves, but he just couldn’t understand that.”
    “ What was he doing?”
    That was the question, what. Our school was just like Lincoln Park or any other high school. It had its social groups, its clubs and associations, but it also had direct lines of contact to the leaders of the next generation. From the children of billionaires to foreign dignitaries to legacies, it was not just about fitting in it was about getting ahead and laying your foundation for the future. All Jonathan had to do was follow my lead.
    “ He was holding me back. I told him that I hated to play the game, but it has to be played to get ahead. Dad you know that better than anyone else I know. You fought working for Mr. Davalos for so many years and had to put up with all kinds of crap, but you did it so you could reach your goals, reach the top. All I wanted was the same thing, to keep moving forward, to advance. I learned how to play their game. I learned how to adapt, he didn’t. I don’t know what he thought he was doing.”
    My father looked at me as if he had done something wrong. It felt like forever until he finally said something.
    “ I fought because of my family. There was no choice for me. I had to play the game to provide for your mother and your sister and for you. My hope was that because of the sacrifices I had to make you and your sister you both would not have to make them yourselves. Adaptation is a powerful skill to have, but you cannot allow it to take you over to where you leave