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I slip my flip-flops off beside the door and close the door behind me softly. I sneak quietly into the living room, not knowing that he's waiting for me. I jump in surprise when he clears his throat, my eyes flying toward the direction of the noise. "Come here." He says firmly and I can feel his stare through the dark, knowing I'm in a lot of trouble. I nod meekly and walk to the couch where he is sitting. I kneel obediently by his knees, assuming my place by his side. "Where were you?" He demands to know immediately. I bite my lip and look down at my knees as I mumble quietly the answer. "I can't hear you." I see his hand raise out of the corner of my eye and I know what's coming if I don't comply. "I went to a party, Sir." I speak up, loud enough for him to hear me. "Did you have permission to go to a party? Did you ask my permission to go out at all?" He asks firmly, not raising his voice at all, the calm timbre of his voice frightening me more than if he was yelling at me. "No. Neither did he have a girlfriend, mostly for lack of time and money. Not that Cole was unhappy — he had a fulfilling life and a job he loved working at a prestigious Manhattan bank. He didn’t love the bank — there was a constant struggle to reconcile his working there with his own humanist values — but as Director of Philanthropic Outreach, it positioned him to funnel some of that ocean of money towards genuinely worthy causes. It certainly hadn’t been the sort of company he’d envisioned working for as a young man, but he’d been surprised at his success at changing the office’s culture to give him as much freedom and budgetary discretion as possible. It was hard work, but he got to make a difference in the world. Right now, all across the region and even in far-flung parts of the world, people were having Christmases with a little more food for hungry mouths, a few more toys for children who’d otherwise have none, a few more treatments for the sick. As always, Cole himself was.
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