The McCain Marriage Contract

Bloggers and media personalities had to be the most creative people on the surface of the Earth. They tried to outdo themselves creating headlines concerning my marriage. There was a new one every hour, each more charming than the previous. In all of this brouhaha, I was certain my dad basked in the knowledge that I was going nowhere; I would stay firmly rooted in this marriage. He had pulled a fast one on me and, like what often happened, he had won me over. Clever old fox.

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"You didn't have to go this far, dad." We were seated in his large office and it looked to me like he was trying so hard to stifle a laugh. "I already agreed, jeez."

"Now why is it always so easy for you to blame me for things? All I do is try to make you comfortable. I may not have been the best of fathers or the most understanding, but I bet I'm better than more than half of the rest out there that don't give a hoot about their kid's feelings. Yet somehow you always consider me the enemy," Dad responded.

"Are you trying to say you didn't leak the news to the press?" I asked, daring him to lie to my face.

He raised a hand. "I didn't say that, son. I did it with the best of intentions," he said. "Now, we are businessmen first and it's rather unfortunate that instead of business we have been spending too much time talking about your marriage saga. I'm getting sick of it, truly, and I'm sure you are too. Work has to continue and money has to be made. Remember why this marriage was necessary in the first place? To improve our clients' perception of you and of the string of family businesses outside tech. Now, tell me about the golf course in Manhattan."

We talked about work for the rest of the time and quite frankly I felt much better than I did in the past week. Dad was, in addition to being a computer guru, an astute businessman and he knew his onions in the business market. As soon as the family came into wealth he was determined to make it stay that way forever, and he made so many investments to ensure the longevity of his financial status. It was amazing how fast he could think and how strategic all his moves were, and even if I disagreed with him on many subjects I respected him and his business prowess. For a moment I imagined him playing around with my son or daughter, his grandchild, and teaching them about money from a very young age. But that was not going to happen. This slave-master relationship of ours was about to come to an end and even if I did have kids I would keep them far away from him.

"How is Valerie?" he asked all of a sudden. I did not expect the question and, to be honest, hearing her name from his mouth made me cringe. The brain was such a wonderful organ; it had the tendency to hold onto memories one would much rather let go of but its grip grew lax when it came to treasured memories. The very terrible memories of the past were clear as day, as if I was reliving the moment, while the more beautiful ones came to me in bits and pieces; I had to mentally clutch these by their invisible strings and hold them close. In recent times, however, I was no longer sure I wanted to keep even the good memories because quite a lot of them had developed bitter undertones. "She's doing great." I may have responded a little too quickly and aroused his suspicion.

"Oh, come on, Raymond..." he started.

"She's great, really," I reaffirmed. What else was I to say? I barely saw her even though we lived in the same house.

Dad sighed. "You both have not found common ground, I take it. Not even sex?"

I stared daggers at him. I was so sure that my eyes had naked fire dancing in them. "You of all people cannot ask me that, Dad."

He raised his hand in surrender. "I'm sorry, son. I wasn't trying to cross a line, honest. I just wanted to have a conversation about what is going on in your life."

I had heard enough. "I need to take my leave. We'll continue talking about the project later. For now, I need to go back to my wife." I said 'wife' with emphasis and with entitlement.

We both stood up and he stretched out his hand for a handshake. I took it and the strength of his grip humbled me. His grip alone was stronger than my entire life which seemed like a house of cards waiting to crumble.

When I left the office I took a long drive around San Francisco, going nowhere in particular. I had given my driver the day off. I wanted to be by myself and finally accept my new reality, for the next one year. It was probably no biggie because nothing romantic could happen between Valerie and me. Maybe, just maybe, I would find a way to give in to my dad's archaic desire for a grandchild. But whatever the case, I was tied down by a contract whose terms and conditions I wasn't fully aware of. And I couldn't just leave because I knew I had more than my inheritance to lose.

By the time I got home I received a text from Dad: "Raymond I'm sorry for the part I played in messing with your privacy. Believe me, all I do, I do for the family. I want to make it all up to you and Valerie because I know I have distorted some things in your individual lives. There's a private jet waiting for you both tomorrow to take you on your honeymoon to the Maldives. I know this will not automatically change anything but maybe it might give you some time away from the prying eyes the paparazzi."

I sighed. This was typical Dad behavior: fixing a problem by creating new ones.