Page 32 of The Holiday Dilemma

What the hell was going on? I wondered. Just then, Mom began to cry. I had to step away. I didn’t want to hear her cry. I made my way back down the hall and picked up my bags and quietly made my way out the front door.

Three hours later, I returned home. I hadn’t told my parents I was coming home for the summer. They thought I would be staying in the dorms. I walked up the staircase and slid my key into the lock.

“Tristan, you’re home!” Mom said, coming out of the sitting room.

I put my bags down and welcomed the hug she wanted to give me. “Hey, Mom. I hope it’s okay that I came home.”

“Of course. Your father is in the office. He will be happy to see you,” she said, making her way in that direction.

“Don’t bother him. It’s okay,” I said, trying to stop her, but she continued toward the back of the house. “Take a seat. We will be right out,” she called back.

I wandered into the sitting room and looked around. I noticed the pillows on the couch were out of place, and there were a couple of glasses on the table. There was a fine layer of dust on a couple of the tables that lined the wall, and I suddenly wondered how long they had been without their house staff.

“Tristan, welcome home,” my father’s deep voice rang through the room. “Take a seat. We want to talk to you about something.”

I looked at my parents, already knowing what was coming, since I’d eavesdropped earlier, and sat down.

“Tristan, we have some news we want to share with you.”

“Okay,” I said, sitting down and looking at them.

“We’ve had to let some of our personal staff go, son. Things are not good financially.” He lowered his eyes to the ground, probably ashamed of himself and what had happened.

“What happened?” I asked, shocked at what my father was saying.

“The markets took a turn for the worse, business has slowed down, and honestly, the profits have been non-existent for about three years.”

“I see,” I muttered, not believing what I was hearing.

“It’s a tremendously stressful time here at the moment, but we are trying to work our way through it.”

“What can I do to help?” I questioned.

“Nothing, son. Just keep your head down and do your best at school. The only part I’m thankful for is the fact that your schooling is completely paid for.”

I thought back to the money my father had given me for school. He’d paid for my tuition in full; however, I had taken the second semester tuition and, instead of paying for school, I had used it to live my life. I had purchased new furniture for the dorm room instead of using what was already there because it hadn’t been good enough. I’d spent it drinking and partying with friends and had nothing left to show for it because I figured that when I needed more, I’d just call and get some. Perhaps my brother had been right, and I needed to take my life a little more seriously.

“I’ll um, get a student loan,” I said without thinking, looking up at my parents. “Please don’t worry about me having to return to school and paying for anything.”

“No, you won’t. That will only bring attention to our situation and point to money trouble for us in the eyes of our friends and colleagues. You’re school has been paid for in full. You don’t need to worry.”

I swallowed hard and was about to say something when Dad cleared his throat.

“We don’t want our reputations ruined in the eyes of this. We will make due and we will be back stronger than ever in no time. For now, the staff have been dismissed. They will be called back for the big functions we have scheduled for the summer, and hopefully come fall things will have turned around.”

Only things got worse as summer progressed. Dad eventually had to close the doors on his company, all major events they’d planned had to be canceled, and soon we were faced with a for sale sign every time we had to pull into the driveway.

I stopped at the end of the driveway to get the mail but found the mailbox empty and pulled through the gates and up the drive. I opened the door to the house and stepped inside to see my father come out of the sitting room, holding a letter in his hand, the look on his face one I’d never seen before.

“Hey, Dad, something wrong?”

He gave me a stern look and shook his head. “Come in here for a moment, would you?” he barked.

I stepped into the sitting room. My mother sat on the couch, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. My father stood with his back toward me. I stood there not sure what to do.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, worried that perhaps Mom was sick.

“Take a seat,” my father barked.

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