Samael: Chapter One, Page Three
Perfect or not, John and Marsha had succeeded in raising two boys to adulthood, and so they had begun to talk about enriching the rest of their lives. John was a good chef, and Marsha was good with money, so it seemed natural that they should open their own restaurant.
Michael and Butch watched with affectionate amusement as their parents darted in and out of the house, making plans and talking with potential partners and backers. They wouldn’t be happy with just one little hole in the wall, no, they wanted a restaurant to dwarf all others in the region, something so grand that it would blow Shiloh’s fog away when the doors were opened. It was more than just a restaurant, Michael knew. It was his parents trying to reassert control over their lives. They had spent years bowing to a bottle of beer and a bathroom scale, but not anymore. Now they would show themselves and the world just what they could do.
Michael knew well enough that the stress of raising a child as strange as he hadn’t been easy for them. The fact that they’d never once blamed him made him feel worse, and his own tendency to obsess over little things made Michael constantly focus on his guilt. If his parents were taking an opportunity now to live their own dreams, he would support them.
That being said, he did have to wonder where they’d get the money.
Perhaps a week after Michael’s 23rd birthday, John and Marsha were invited to the mansion of Jin Craig for a dinner meeting. Michael was amazed at their excitement. They looked as though they’d shed ten years, running around their tiny blue kitchen making the most elaborate dinner Michael had ever seen.
“You can’t imagine how important Ms. Craig is,” said his mother, cutting slices of cheese for a lasagna. “She inherited a small pharmaceutical company from her father in her mid-twenties and turned it into the Craig’s Pharmacy we know today in less than ten years!”
Butch, nibbling on the edge of a tomato that his father was looking for, frowned. “That’s cool and all, but why is she interested in an Italian restaurant then?”
“She says it’s all about diversification-and give me that!” said John.
Michael shrugged and left the details to his parents, who he considered much smarter than he. All he knew about business was that the stock market was involved somehow.
So he waved his mother and father out the door and settled down to watch The Late Show. Then he watched The Late Late Show. Craig Ferguson seemed twice as funny as usual, for his parents had to be having a great discussion with Ms. Craig since it was lasting so long.
But then two a.m. passed, and three a.m., and there was still no sign of John and Marsha. Michael felt worry tug at his heart, much as he told himself that his parents were adults on a business meeting and the last thing they needed was a son who obsessed over little things.
Michael and Butch watched with affectionate amusement as their parents darted in and out of the house, making plans and talking with potential partners and backers. They wouldn’t be happy with just one little hole in the wall, no, they wanted a restaurant to dwarf all others in the region, something so grand that it would blow Shiloh’s fog away when the doors were opened. It was more than just a restaurant, Michael knew. It was his parents trying to reassert control over their lives. They had spent years bowing to a bottle of beer and a bathroom scale, but not anymore. Now they would show themselves and the world just what they could do.
Michael knew well enough that the stress of raising a child as strange as he hadn’t been easy for them. The fact that they’d never once blamed him made him feel worse, and his own tendency to obsess over little things made Michael constantly focus on his guilt. If his parents were taking an opportunity now to live their own dreams, he would support them.
That being said, he did have to wonder where they’d get the money.
Perhaps a week after Michael’s 23rd birthday, John and Marsha were invited to the mansion of Jin Craig for a dinner meeting. Michael was amazed at their excitement. They looked as though they’d shed ten years, running around their tiny blue kitchen making the most elaborate dinner Michael had ever seen.
“You can’t imagine how important Ms. Craig is,” said his mother, cutting slices of cheese for a lasagna. “She inherited a small pharmaceutical company from her father in her mid-twenties and turned it into the Craig’s Pharmacy we know today in less than ten years!”
Butch, nibbling on the edge of a tomato that his father was looking for, frowned. “That’s cool and all, but why is she interested in an Italian restaurant then?”
“She says it’s all about diversification-and give me that!” said John.
Michael shrugged and left the details to his parents, who he considered much smarter than he. All he knew about business was that the stock market was involved somehow.
So he waved his mother and father out the door and settled down to watch The Late Show. Then he watched The Late Late Show. Craig Ferguson seemed twice as funny as usual, for his parents had to be having a great discussion with Ms. Craig since it was lasting so long.
But then two a.m. passed, and three a.m., and there was still no sign of John and Marsha. Michael felt worry tug at his heart, much as he told himself that his parents were adults on a business meeting and the last thing they needed was a son who obsessed over little things.