Just Me Again.

4: Drink Too Much

SILAS HARRISON

"You are doing great work, son," Dad said through the phone. I sighed and leaned back on the chair. I twirled around on the chair and looked out of the window wall – darkness blanketed over New York while the stars were shining proudly in the sky. "I am proud of you." He added.

I smiled and shifted the phone from one ear to another, "Thank you, dad." I replied tiredly.

Today was a busy day. I finalized our deal with Mr. Wilmington today. I have been working on it for the past eight months and after putting hard work, team efforts, and day and night of working we finally got it. The rest of my team went to celebrate, but I wasn't in any mood to celebrate at all. "You are not celebrating?" he asked me.

I chuckled and rubbed my neck, "I am not in a mood to celebrate today." I replied.

"You are working too much, Silas. That is not good. Take a break." Dad said to me. He was concerned – so was Marcus. They both have been telling me to stop burdening myself with work, but they don't know that this work is what makes me forget all the other burdens of guilt I have on my shoulder.

"I will." I made a void promise.

Dad sighed, "I am coming in April." He announced.

I smiled, "I know. Marcus told me today." I replied.

I pressed my lips together as I thought about the woman I call my mother. She lives in London with her dad. My father doesn't let her come to America. She has already done enough. She has been calling me every day for the last few weeks, but I am not attending it. She was in rehab for two years. After everything that happened in America. My father decided to take her to London – away from all of us. There – she started drinking. Elizabeth complained a few times that she has seen mother drink excessively, but because she doesn't see her at all although she lives there – she didn't pay any attention to her. Then, once my father was here – he got a call from our butler in London. He informed my father – that my mother slapped someone in a restaurant because he wasn't letting my mother go to the restaurant in a drunken state. That was it for my father – he put her in rehabilitation for drinking problems and anger issues. After two years – she came out clean and better than before – that's what I have heard. Since then she has been calling me, but I am ready to talk to her – ever.

I felt a lump in the throat. I gulped and clenched my jaws together, "How is she?" I asked him tonelessly.

He knew whom I was talking about. I heard him sigh, "She is okay. She is visiting her sister for a few days." He answered.

"Okay," I replied short.

I stayed at the office till late at night. I was looking out of the window when my cellphone buzzed. I twirled around to look at it. It was Alice calling – again. I put the glass of scotch on the desk and answered the call. "Hey," I said as I yawned. I was really tired.

I heard her breath, but she didn't talk for a few seconds. "Why you haven't been answering my phone, Silas? Is something wrong?" she asked.

I rubbed my eyes and let out a tiresome breath, "Alice, I told you that I will be busy today." I replied.

She paused, "How did it go?" she asked softly.

"We got it," I replied with a small smile.

I heard her chuckle, "That's great news, Silas. Congratulations!" She beamed.

A smiled, "Thank you, Alice." I said to her and took my glass to the cabinet where the drinks were. I opened it and poured more scotch in it.

"So, did you celebrate?" she asked.