Chapter 14
Preston eventually brought the golf club to Isolde.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then laughed.
He looked confused.
“What?”
“I always hated that thing.”
He almost smiled.
“What do you want me to do with it?”
She shrugged.
“Whatever you want.”
Again.
No authority.
No sacred answer.
He hated that initially.
Then thought.
He took the club to the Hale estate.
Not Blackthorn.
Not me.
Not a ceremony.
He laid it across Warren’s desk.
His father looked at it.
“What is this?”
Preston answered:
“Yours.”
“It was always yours.”
“No.”
A small word.
Probably the most difficult he had ever said to Warren.
According to Preston, his father stared for a long time.
Then:
“You’re choosing them.”
Preston asked:
“Who?”
“Your mother. Giulietta. Marconi.”
Same binary.
Father or everyone else.
Preston finally saw it.
“I’m choosing not to be you.”
Then he left.
The club stayed.
Warren kept it.
Of course.
May you like
Some people preserve symbols because changing them would require changing the story.
Not our problem anymore.
