“Nothing relaxes me more.”
Jende nodded and said nothing, though he thought about how funny it was that both Clark and Vince loved sunsets—the only people he’d ever met who went out of their way to sit by a body of water and stare at the horizon. He wondered if Vince knew this about his father, and what difference it would make if he didn’t know and then discovered it by chance; how differently Vince would feel about his father if he realized that they shared a great love for something only a sliver of humans make a deliberate effort to see.
For a few minutes the men sat in silence, watching the river flowing leisurely, in no rush for its meeting with the ocean.
“I’m sure you know by now that Vince will be moving to India in two weeks,” Clark said.
“No, sir, I did not know. India?”
Clark nodded. “No more law school for him. He wants to wander the earth.”
“He is a good boy, sir. He will come back safely to America when he is ready.”
“Or he may not, for a long time. That’s fine. I’m not the first father to have a son who defied him and decided he wanted to live his life in an unorthodox manner.”
“I hope you are not too angry with him, sir.”
“Actually, Cindy thinks I’m not angry enough. And that makes her angry, like somehow I’m giving up on him because I don’t love him enough. But the thing is, I almost admire him.”
“He is not afraid.”
“No, and there’s something to be said for that. At his age, all I wanted was the life that I have right now. This exact life, this was what I wanted.”
“It is a good life, sir. A very good life.”
“Sometimes. But I can understand why Vince doesn’t want it. Because these days I don’t want it, either. All this shit going on at Lehman, all this stuff we would never have done twenty years ago because we stood for something more, and now really dirty shit is becoming the norm. All over the Street. But try to show good sense, talk of consequences, have a far-long-term outlook, and they look at you as if you’ve lost your marbles.”
Jende nodded.
“And I know Vince has got a point, but the problem is not some system. It is us. Each of us. We’ve got to fix ourselves before we can fix a whole damn country. That’s not happening on the Street. It’s not happening in Washington. It’s not happening anywhere! It’s not like what I’m saying is new, but it’s only getting worse, and one man or two men or three men cannot fix it.”
“No, sir.”
“But everything I have, I worked hard for, and I’m proud of, and I’ll fight to the end to preserve it. Because when this life’s good, it’s very good, and the price I pay, that’s just part of it.”
“Very true, sir,” Jende said, nodding. “When you become a husband and father, you pay a lot of prices.”
“It’s more than your duty as a husband and father. It’s your duty to your parents, too. Your siblings. When I went to Stanford I was going to study physics, become a professor like my dad. Then I saw what was possible on a professor’s salary and what was possible on an investment banker’s salary and I chose this path. I’m not going to sit here and be one of those self-righteous assholes, because my original reason for choosing this career was never noble. I can’t say I didn’t fantasize about the sports car and private jets. But it’s different now. Now it means the world to me how well I’m taking care of my family. No matter how bad it gets at work I know that at the end of the day I can send my parents on vacations to see the world, pay for every medical bill that comes up, make sure my sister doesn’t suffer because her husband’s dead, make sure my wife and sons have far more than what they need. That’s what Vince doesn’t understand. That you don’t only do what makes you happy. You think about your parents, too.”
“Vince doesn’t see this side of you, sir. He sees a father who works at a bank and makes money but I tell him, I say, your parents have other sides you do not see because you are their child. It is only now that I am old that I look at some things that my father did and I understand.”
“I told him. I said, I’m not asking you to stay in law school and become a lawyer so you can be like me. I’m asking you because I know what it takes to be successful in this country. You’ve got to separate yourself from the pack with a good education, a good-paying career. I read about folks who thought it was all fun and games when they were younger and look at them now, barely getting by, because unless you make a certain kind of money in this country, life can be brutal. And I don’t ever want that for him, you know? I don’t ever want that for my son.”
Jende nodded, looking afar.
For several minutes the men were silent, just as the sun was one third of the way below the low-rises of New Jersey. They watched as it went down ever so slowly, bidding them adieu, bidding the city adieu, until it rose again from behind the East River to bring a new day with its promises and heartbreaks.
“Wow,” Jende said, mesmerized by what he’d just witnessed. “I know the sun comes up and goes down, but I never knew that it does it so nicely.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Sir,” Jende said after a brief silence, “I think Vince will stay in India for a few months and run back to law school.”
“I won’t be surprised,” Clark said with a laugh.
“I don’t know how India is, Mr. Edwards, but if there is heat and mosquitoes there like we have in Cameroon, I will be picking him up at the airport before New Year.”
The men laughed together.
“I will not worry about Vince for one minute, sir. Even if he stays, he will be happy. Look at me, sir. I am in another country, and I am happy.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“A man can find a home anywhere, sir.”
“Funny, as I was thinking about Vince today, I wrote a poem about leaving home.”
“You write poems, sir?”
“Yeah, but I’m no Shakespeare or Frost.”
Jende scratched his head. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I have heard a little about Shakespeare, but I don’t know the other man. I did not make it that far in school.”
“They were both great poets. I’m just saying my poetry is pretty remedial, but it keeps me going on many days.”
Jende nodded, and he could see that Clark could tell he didn’t quite understand the last point, either. “You learn how to write poems in school, sir?” he asked.
“No, actually, I just started a few years ago. A colleague gave me this little book of poetry, which I thought was a rather odd gift—why would anyone think I could use a book of poetry? Maybe it was just one of those lazy gifts where people pull stuff off their shelves.”
“A Christmas gift, sir?”
“Yeah. Anyway, I kept it on my desk, picked it up one day, and loved the poems so much that I decided to try writing one. Feels real good to just write out lines about whatever you’re feeling. You should try it sometime.”
“It sounds very good, sir.”
“I wrote one for Cindy, but she didn’t like it much, so I just write for myself now.”
“I will be glad to read one, sir.”
“Really? I can show you … Dammit,” Clark said, looking at his watch. “Didn’t realize it was getting this late.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir, I should have kept my eyes open. I was just talking and talking without paying any attention to the time.”
“No, no, I’m glad we talked. Thanks for joining me; I really appreciate it. I hope I didn’t put you in an awkward position, throwing out my feelings about work and shit.”
“No, sir. Please, Mr. Edwards, thank you so much for inviting me here.”
“Well, thank you for listening,” Clark said, smiling. “And I’ll be glad to recite the poem to you. It’s called ‘Home,’ and if you don’t like it, I’d rather you don’t say anything.”
“Yes, sir,” Jende said, smiling, too. “I will not say anything whatsoever.”
“Okay, here goes:
Home will never go away
Home will be here when you come back You may go to bring back fortune You may go to escape misfortune You may even go, just because you want to go But when you come back