2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [41]
Sam Mueller always admired the very wealthy who claimed they were leaving their children nothing so they would not lead a life counting on their parents’ riches, but “nothing” to these kinds of people meant fifty million dollars instead of a billion. Sam had not gone that route. His will left the bulk of his estate to his wife and children. But when he got very angry with his son, which was rare, he would threaten him with no inheritance. A thirteen-year-old boy doesn’t really respond to that, especially when the threat is issued on the family’s private island.
The night before, in their eight-thousand-square-foot villa, had been a little tense. After being served dinner, the family decided to watch a movie. Before they did, Sam scanned the major news outlets and got immersed in watching footage of Los Angeles, which now had its own channel. “I hate seeing this. It breaks my heart,” he said, to no one in particular.
“It’s their own fault for living there,” his son said.
Sam snapped. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Honey,” Maggie said, “take it easy. He didn’t say anything.” Mark got nervous. He knew this side of his father and didn’t like to provoke it.
“That’s not what you say when people are devastated to this degree,” Sam shouted. “That’s a spoiled brat talking. Do you think people have choices like we do, that they can just live in any mansion they want?”
“Dad,” Patty said, “I don’t think he meant it that way.”
“Stay out of it, Patty. How did you mean it, Mark?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it that much.”
“You have to learn goddamn empathy.”
“Honey, he has empathy.”
“When? Where? I’ve never seen it. He feels sorry when one of his friend’s boats breaks down.”
Mark got up and stormed out of the room, stifling a cry. He ran upstairs and slammed the door. Maggie got up and followed him. Sam tried to stop her. “Leave him alone, honey, let him think about it.”
“He doesn’t even know what he did.”
Patty was left alone with her father. She moved closer to him and took his hand, which was still shaking with anger. “I don’t think he meant it that way, Dad.”
“Does he know what we have, Patty? Do you?”
“Yes, of course I do. You know how grateful we are.”
“I don’t want you to be grateful. I want you to care about people deep down. I don’t want my success to spoil you rotten.” Patty smiled at her father. She knew how to wrap him around her finger.
“Dad, I didn’t come into this world expecting anything. I lucked out being your child and I always know that. Mark knows that, too.”
Sam gave her a hug. All of a sudden he felt guilty. Maybe this had nothing to do with his son’s comment. Maybe if he had cured schizophrenia, he would not feel like a one-trick pony. Even though the cancer cure was the greatest trick there was, he was always amazed at how not following it up could make him feel like a failure.
Sam came downstairs early the next morning and his son and daughter were having breakfast. He gave Mark a hug. “I lost my temper last night. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I didn’t mean what I said to sound like I didn’t care. I just always thought it was stupid to live on a giant earthquake fault.”
His father laughed. “I can’t disagree with you. It is pretty damn stupid.” They all had a chuckle over it, then Sam brought up a proposition to his son. “Marky, I have a speaking engagement next week. Do you want to take a ride with me?” Mark looked at his father. This was an unusual question, as his dad never asked him to travel on business.
“Where are you going?”
“Chicago.”
“Do I have to?”
“Of course not,” his father said, obviously disappointed. Mark realized he should have just said yes.
“You know what, Dad, I’ll go. It might be fun.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can decide later.”
“No, no. I’ll go. It will be fun.”
His father was pleased. “I think so, too. We’ll have a great time. Father-son stuff. We’ll have a ball.”
* * *
When Stewart Bernard came home