Chapter 2 - THE SON I KEPT RESCUING
Daniel was forty-two.
For almost twenty years, I had mistaken rescuing him for helping him.
His mother, Carol, died from ovarian cancer when Daniel was fourteen. Grief changed both of us, but in opposite directions.
I became more careful.
Daniel became angry at consequences.
If he failed a class, the teacher hated him.
If a girlfriend left, she was unstable.
If a boss fired him, the company was political.
I kept making explanations because the alternative felt cruel.
He had lost his mother.
So I paid the parking ticket.
Covered the overdraft.
Called the professor.
Loaned him the money.
When he was twenty-seven, he started a small residential-renovation company called Mercer HomeWorks.
Daniel was genuinely talented.
That was part of the problem.
He could estimate a kitchen remodel by eye, negotiate with subcontractors, and convince nervous homeowners that every problem had a solution.
He was less talented at bookkeeping.
Or discipline.
Or admitting a project had lost money.
When cash ran short, I bridged the gap.
The first time was $8,000.
Then $12,500.
Then $26,000 during the pandemic.
Every loan became a family conversation instead of a business transaction.
“I’ll get you back next quarter.”
“Dad, this contract changes everything.”
“Once the insurance job pays, you’re first.”
I stopped expecting repayment.
Then Ashley came along.
She was energetic, attractive, and much better with social media than Daniel. She turned Mercer HomeWorks into a polished online brand. Before-and-after videos. Family renovation tips. Funny clips of Daniel making mistakes on job sites.
People liked them.
So did I.
At first.
Then the jokes became sharper.
Daniel mocking my old clothes.
Ashley filming me falling asleep during Thanksgiving football.
A video where they called my flip phone “a museum exhibit.”
If I objected, Ashley always said:
“Ernest, people love you.”
Daniel said:
“Stop being so sensitive.”
The exact sentence his mother used to hate hearing from her own father.
May you like
I never told him that.
Maybe I should have.
