Chapter 4 The choices we make

Somewhere around the east coast at the mouth of the River Liffey. Dublin, Ireland, a certain fine young man clothed in an expensive suit sat In the middle of a lousy tavern, nonchalantly engaging his mother In an unpleasant argument.

One he soon realized he was going to lose.

"Jacob Oisín Kalahari Harvey. For the seventh time, you need to come home." His mother, Rosalie, commanded from 3,095 miles away in New York City.

The young lad simply sighed, knowing she only used absurdly long ceremonious names whenever she wanted to be taken seriously. But how could he possibly take her seriously when she was asking for the absurd?

"No, mother," he said simply, looking down at his glass of whiskey which was inexplicably empty.

"Jacob!" Rosalie bickered.

"I don't want to return back for the simple reason that I'm doing perfectly fine here. And I'm quite certain your spy didn't skip that information out of his weekly report."

"You about Roberts?"

He leaned into his chair.

"I'm not 12 anymore, mother. I know when I'm being stalked by a rotund man with big bushy red beards." he sighed and moved the phone over to his other ear. "l know you are doing all this because you love me and want the best for me but it is really unnecessary because I'm fine."

"Jacob, you've been in Ireland for far too long and people are starting to talk. I know the death of your wife still deeply saddens you but it's been over six months since she passed away and I think it's time you moved on - for your sake and the kids."

Maria.

Jacob groaned. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of her.

He didn't love her, had rarely even known her, but she was his wife, and she was the mother of his children. Now she was dead and the thought of it drowned him in a dit pit of self-loathing.

He snorted and shook his head. "I'm well suited to make that decision for myself."

"What about your inheritance, don't you care about it?"

"I've made quite enough fortune here to sustain myself, I do not need to pest off my fathers' wealth."

"Do you have to be so difficult?"

"And do you have to be impulsive, mother?"

There was a profound silence on both ends of the phone and it took a minute and a half before Rosalie sighed and spoke again.

"Son, please listen." her tone held a hint of desperation in it. "Your father didn't want me to tell you this but I have no choice," she said in a hushed manner that somehow captivated Jacob's interest.

"Well go on," he prodded, taking a sip from his freshly ordered drink.

Rosalie exhaled. "Your father... We tried so hard to hide the fact that he has severe dementia but-"

"Father has dementia?"

At first he was silent buy then, he laughed obnoxiously for an entire minute. "You're kidding right, do you honestly want me to come home that desperately?"

She had to be joking, it was like her to fake a scenario and use any means necessary to get whatever she wanted.

"I'd never fake the illness of my own husband, Jacob. Your mother isn't that petty!" Rosalie yelled and he couldn't see her but by the tone of her voice, he could tell she had an affronted look on her face.

Whatever chuckle that had lifted his lips upwards suddenly disappeared.

"For how long?"

"Before you left with the kids."

"And you didn't think it best to tell me?"

"It was what your father wanted. I had no choice."

"You had no choice? How can you be so-" he paused, took a deep breath, and sighed, clenching his fists until they hurt.

"I know I should've at least told you and I'm sorry I didn't but you need to come home, Jacob. Your father is in a critical condition and with a lot of people eyeing his wealth, he needs to write his will before he loses the ability to... " she sighed. "... Come home son."

Jacob lapsed into silence, pondering on what the hell he was supposed to do. It was totally crazy to return to New York, especially now that he had built a life for himself here but what kind of a man would he be if he neglected his father?

He thought he'd had more time to figure his life out, but apparently, he didn't, and now, he needed to go home.

Frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled on it.

"I'm totally going to regret this."