childhood.
"Matthew, you need to make an effort. Your father and I paid a small fortune for your education—"
"I had scholarships, Mom."
"Do not interrupt me, young man. You need to start working again and try to rebuild your position with the Collings-Lloyd name. Your father has a job for you here. It's an entry level position, but after spending five years in prison, you can't possibly expect to return to anything more."
Matt felt the anger begin to simmer as his headache grew stronger. He hated when his mother started on her usual tirade. "I have a job."
"I'm certain it's not of the same caliber as working at your father's company."
"In an entry level position," Matt threw in as a subtle jab, no longer caring to tolerate her rant today.
"Your father mentioned how nice it would be to have you and your brother at the company again…"
Matt tuned her out and filed away the unfinished papers until he could focus on them later. He'd heard this argument during each phone call since his release. His family's textiles company employed hundreds in the various divisions nationwide. He had worked his way up to management from a clerk position while studying, but left to work for a brokerage firm after finishing his finance degree—he had no interest in working in the family business. His brother quickly followed his footsteps but Matt still believed it was his way of escaping their mother's clutches. Each call was another recollection of what he already knew. Ironically, she felt that restating his history with the family business would somehow guilt him into returning. All it did was anger him and push him farther away.
He made his way to the front porch with the phone still pressed to his ear, inserting the occasional " yes, Mom" in between.
"But it would be best to settle down beforehand. Your father was already married by your age. You need to—"
"I'm sorry?" Matt asked. He'd obviously lost track of the conversation and it had veered down a different path.
"There is an opening at the company in the financial division. I'm certain your father would employ you, but it would be best to settle down to show some stability in your life first. And, of course, your work would be supervised by the manager."
"Supervised?" As a twenty-nine-year-old adult who had graduated magna cum laude in both accounting and finance, why would anyone be required to oversee his work? And why was he even discussing this?
"We have to be sure we can trust you with our money, Matthew, especially now after being in prison," she said with a sniff.
Matt was speechless. Hurt knifed through him and he rubbed his eyes again trying to stave off the headache that kept growing.
"A marriage to someone with a good family name, and diligently working your way up again, maybe you could salvage your reputation."
"I'm not going to work for Dad and I'm not settling down just to salvage my reputation," he said firmly.
"We're just thinking of you, Matthew," she said with a sniffle.
A sniffle, not her sniff. Matt ran his fingers through his hair again and lifted the sweaty locks off his neck. Now he felt guilty at the possibility he had actually hurt his mother's feelings. Was it conceivable she no longer played the wounded victim role she had cast herself into and was actually worrying about him ?
"I'm sorry, Mom, I know you're—"
"Do you realize I can't speak of you to my friends?" she interrupted furiously. "How can I be proud of you? You're a criminal who stole from family friends…I'm not sure even working here will make any of that right."
Matt lowered his head and inhaled deeply as pain wrapped around his heart.
"You need to come home, find a nice young lady—"
"I'll come by and visit soon. I have to go, Mom, the reception is too bad and I can't stay in this spot. Say hi to Dad for me," he finished before allowing his anger to take over.
He pocketed his phone and stepped down to pace on the front yard. Why did he always let his mother get to
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