His Money
Can you be your own person with someone else's money?
His Money
Molly’s father wasn’t needlessly intrusive into her life, especially now that she had been out of college for several years. He and her mother believed that their children should be raised to be independent and responsible. They should be left to make their own choices, only occasionally corrected, for their own good.
But this was a time when correction seemed advisable. He invited Molly into his office, his home office, off to the side of the large entry way. They sat at either end of the deep brown leather sofa, facing his desk. Beyond the desk, the opposite wall was one large bookcase. Molly had never seen her father pull one book down, nor had anyone in the family, including her, taken one down. Dad had been mixing drinks for them and as he did, she looked beyond him and it seemed almost a revelation that she had lived her entire life in this house, and never seen a book leave those shelves.
They sipped their drinks for a few moments, exchanging small talk concerning family matters. Then, Dad brought the conversation around to the family’s annual picnic, last Saturday.
“That new fellow that you brought to the picnic; what was his name…?”
“Barry.”
“That’s right, Barry… He seems like a very nice guy. Polite and well mannered. Have you known him long?”
“Well, maybe a year. But we’ve only gone out with each other for about a month.”
He gave her his ‘dad look’, eyebrows raised slightly. “Is it serious?”
Molly smiled back, indulgently. “How serious can it be, in a month?” She let that challenge sink in for just a moment, sipped her drink, then, “I do like him. He’s easy to be with. We can share our thoughts without feeling a need to convince each other of anything. We have nothing to prove to each other.”
Dad seemed pleased with that. “Well, good. I like that. But that, by itself, doesn’t make for a relationship with a future. I have a similar relationship with the head custodian at work, Fred. Great guy. We talk some… But you didn’t seem him at the picnic on Saturday.”
Well, there it was. Molly had known all along that this is why Dad wanted this meeting. “Yes, Barry is an auto mechanic. Not of our kind, I guess you would say.” Molly’s look challenged Dad. He took no offense. They had raised her speak her own mind. “But he’s easy to be with” she went on. “I have no reason to push him away, simply because of his position.”
“Of course not,” Dad hastened to say. “That goes right back to what I said about Fred. I’ve even had lunch with him on occasion. But Fred knows his position, just as I know mine…And you know yours.” Molly remained silent. It was best to just let Dad go on.
Dad could read her well enough, but he wasn’t sure how to get through. How about this?-- “Your mother and I raised all of you to be open and tolerant. But you have an education, you have a range of experience that can only be properly…properly and productively shared with people with a similar range of experience and knowledge. I’m simply suggesting that you don’t try to make more of your relationship with Barry than it really is. Or can be. Of course, have him as a friend, if you want to, but accept that there are reasonable limits.”
Molly contemplated. Dad is such a nice man. Never has anything negative to say about anyone. But that didn’t mean he is openly accepting. He has his boundaries, all right.
She gave Dad her ‘daughter look’, raised eyebrows, as she had learned from him. “Dad, didn’t you teach us to think for ourselves, make our own decisions, and be responsible for them?”
“Yes. And we also taught you to be cognizant of all there is in the world. People at our level take very big responsibilities, on everyone’s behalf.” He paused briefly. “Fred and I like each other, get along great. But we both are always aware; his job depends on me; my job does not depend on him. If it really came down to it, I could easily do Fred’s job, but he could not do mine. He doesn’t have the knowledge, the education, or the range of experience. Do you see what I’m getting at, Sweetheart?”
Eyebrows raised again. “Could you do Barry’s job?”
It was more of a direct challenge than Molly was used to making, or that Dad was used to hearing. But he tolerated it nicely. “Barry can repair cars, and I can’t. True enough. But people like me, people like us, get the cars built in the first place. We put together financing, engineering, manufacturing, supply chains, distribution, just to name a few of the parts. You know much of that yourself. An auto mechanic is a nice guy to know, but perhpas there are limits…That’s all I’m saying.”
Molly was perplexed. She had been self-analyzing lately. She had been contemplating lately. How different was it, really, to be raised with wealth, or not? Were her parents better? They were wonderful parents, absolutely. And she didn’t mind the money, felt a little insecure at the thought of not having it. “Dad, I get what you’re saying. But honestly, I have times with Barry that I have never had with anyone else. He knows so much. He has such a different perspective.” She thought for a moment longer. “I feel engaged with Barry. I’m discovering, learning. All my other friends, we all have the same experiences, so what can we talk about? It feels a little stifling, after a while.”
Stifling is a word that Dad had not expected to hear. “Stifling? You can go anywhere in the world; see anything you want to see. Go to any school. And sure, spend some time with an auto mechanic. How stifling can any of that be?”
Molly just knew that Dad’s perspective was lacking. Something was missing, even when he made sense. “Dad, I get what you’re saying. I promise not to run off and marry Barry any time soon... I’ll wait at least two weeks,” she joked. “OK?”
“How about a month?” Dad joked back. “Not before a month.” It was Dad’s way of saying he still didn’t approve of Molly’s choice, while acknowledging he had no real means to stop her. Or at least he wouldn’t try. They had raised her to think for herself, and she was thinking for herself.
“Not for a month,” Molly capitulated in return. They finished their drinks and talked of other things
*************************************
Molly turned to Barry as they watched the game on TV at his apartment. They sat close together on his plush sofa, the large screen TV mounted on the wall across the room. Commercials were on and she had his attention. “Does it bother you? You work for a living, and I don’t really have to?”
Perhaps Barry knew that this would come up, sooner or later. He had sensed that she felt a little ill at ease around his friends. She wanted to be engaged with them, but the conversations were somewhat foreign to her. She couldn’t entirely meld in.
“Maybe it’s more of a problem for you than for me. I’m pretty good, regardless. Does it bother you? ...Wait! It’s your father, isn’t it? He cornered me at the family picnic. Asked a lot of questions, as if he was just having a conversation, but I think he was evaluating me. I guess he needed to decide if I’m good enough for you.” Barry was being more observational than judgmental.
“Of course you’re good enough for me.” She pecked him on the check. “Yeah, I could have guessed Dad would do that. He just had ‘the talk’ with me, pretty much the same way.”
“So, what now?” Barry asked. “Just ignore the difference on where we’re from?”
Molly liked the idea of that. But she had a thought. “I like your friends. They’re great people. But I do feel a little funny, like I’m the odd man. And I guess I am. But I don’t want to be. I want to fit in with you guys. I like being here with you.” The game was coming back on. “Let’s just not worry about it, not right now.” She snuggled a bit.
Barry was willing to talk, even with the game back on. “OK. But just give me some idea of where we’re going. Is this a ‘just good friends’ thing? Or are we going someplace together?”
Molly smiled at him. She wasn’t sure of the answer. She seldom felt this conflicted, she had been raised to be decisive. But a new part or her had been forming, and it wanted to just let things play out in their own way. “Let’s not over think this. I don’t want to have to think everything through.”
Barry smiled. “You? You not think it through? You’re always thinking about things. How your career is going, who your friends are and if you want to stay friends with them. Can you really just let things happen between us, and not plan anything?”
She thought about that a moment, as the quarterback on TV threw an interception. Barry groaned; she was less concerned.
“I just feel comfortable with you. It all seems more real than with anyone else. You know. Genuine. I think that’s what I mean by ‘Let it happen’. My life has always been full of plans. Just once, I want to not have a plan.”
It was third and eight. With a little luck, and defense, his team would get the ball back. Barry contemplated what Molly said. In his own life he had not had plans so much as he had always had a direction. He could focus and realize goals. He was confident in who he was and what he could do, but he was not one for big plans. “That might do you some good. Not thinking about everything. You can’t plan everything.”
“According to Dad you can. I’ve never seen him do anything that he didn’t plan at least a month ahead. And that’s for the little stuff!”
“Well, now I know where you get it from.”
“Oh, and you never made a plan?”
“OK, hold on, now,” he laughed. “Are we for plans, or against them?”
He was kidding, but it made Molly think. “It’s funny. If it came down to it, I don’t have to plan anything. I’m set for life, no matter what.” She turned her head away from the game and back to him. “Does that ever play on you? That you have to go to work every day? To make the money and pay the bills? Does that ever get you down?”
He hadn’t really thought about it. He turned from the game and gave her a benign smile. “I’m good. I like my work. I make enough money. I’m putting some aside.” He contemplated a moment. “If I didn’t have to earn a living, would I stop working on cars and go fly to Paris or something? Go eat snails?” They both laughed. She had told Barry of eating snails in Paris, and that’s why he brought it up.
“That’s the thing,” she said, absently regarding the TV “Money means nothing to me. I didn’t earn it. It has no value. Your money doesn’t spend any differently than mine, but yours is worth more. Your money is a piece of your life. Your money says you did something, earned it. My money is just numbers in an account.” She had herself perplexed. She turned fully toward him. “Seriously, does it bother you? Bother you that you work all week, and still don’t have the money that I have for nothing?”
She had pulled his attention away from the game. “I think maybe it bothers you more than it bothers me. I know who I am. I know what I’m good for. You’re right, I guess; the money I earn gives me a sense of accomplishment. I don’t think about it, but yeah, the money is a little like the score of a game. That I have it means I’m winning. I know people who are in too deep. They’re losing. I guess, if they just awarded touchdowns to people without their working for them, the touchdowns wouldn’t mean anything. And then who would watch the game? And then what would touchdowns be good for?”
Was that similar to what Dad had been teaching her, or was it entirely different? How could this confuse her? She turned her head back to the game, but was not following it. They were silent for a while, watching. “If you could have all the money you wanted, and never work for it, would you do that?”
Barry turned to Molly, smiling. “I could do that… I’d only have to marry you.”
It was meant to challenge her. Challenge them both, perhaps.