Fathers and Failures

Pascal sat at the worn dining table, staring blankly at the half-empty plate of cold spaghetti before him. The overhead light buzzed quietly, casting a sickly yellow hue over the small, cluttered kitchen. His thoughts drifted aimlessly, the events of the previous night still lingering in his mind. Sasha's offer, the man who had resurfaced from his past, the weight of decisions pressing down on him—it all swirled like a storm he couldn't escape. But there was something even heavier in the air tonight. The debt. The investors. His father.

Across the room, Mendes paced back and forth, his footsteps heavy against the creaky wooden floor. His graying hair was disheveled, and the lines on his face seemed to have deepened overnight, etched in frustration and disappointment. Pascal had been ignoring the inevitable, but now there was no escape. The investors they owed—a staggering 500 million dollars—were growing impatient. The time for idle talk was over. They needed a plan, but Pascal wasn't in the right headspace. His mind had been slipping into an abyss of confusion, and Mendes could sense it.

"You think I don't notice, Pascal?" Mendes' voice broke the silence, low and seething. "You think I don't see you wandering around here like a damn ghost? Do you even realize what we're up against?"

Pascal blinked, coming out of his daze. He hadn't heard his father approach. Mendes was standing at the edge of the kitchen now, his hands gripping the back of a chair tightly, knuckles white. There was no avoiding the confrontation this time.

"We owe 500 million dollars," Mendes spat, his voice rising. "Five hundred million, Pascal! And you're just… you're just sitting here like it's someone else's problem. Like you can just wait for it to go away."

Pascal flinched at the words but didn't respond immediately. He felt the weight of his father's gaze on him, burning through the fog of his thoughts.

Mendes stepped closer, his face taut with barely contained anger. "You've been absent for weeks now. Walking around in a haze. This isn't the time for you to disappear! If we don't come up with a plan—no, if you don't come up with a plan—we're done for. These investors aren't going to sit around forever, waiting for you to snap out of it."

Pascal's chest tightened. He knew his father was right, but hearing it said out loud made it all feel so much worse. He had no answers, no solutions, and the pressure was suffocating him. He ran his hands through his disheveled hair, gripping his scalp as if he could pull the stress out by force. His silence only seemed to fuel his father's anger.

"You think I'm not trying?" Pascal finally muttered, his voice shaky. "You think I don't know what's at stake here?"

Mendes slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the plates and glasses. "Trying? Trying isn't enough, Pascal! Look at you! You're a mess. You're not thinking straight. You're letting this whole thing spiral out of control, and it's not just your future on the line—it's mine too. Your mother didn't raise you to be like this."

Pascal's breath hitched at the mention of his mother, a flicker of pain crossing his face. He clenched his fists under the table, his knuckles turning white. "Don't… don't bring her into this."

Mendes narrowed his eyes. "Why not? Maybe you need to remember what she fought for. She worked her whole life to keep this family together, and now you're just going to throw it all away because you can't handle the pressure?"

Pascal stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor as he shoved it back. His voice cracked with emotion, anger bubbling up to the surface. "You think I'm throwing it away? You think this is easy for me? I didn't ask for this, Dad! I didn't ask for any of it!"

Mendes' expression hardened, his eyes sharp. "None of us asked for this, Pascal. But life doesn't give a damn about what we ask for. You don't get to sit here feeling sorry for yourself while the walls are closing in."

Pascal's face flushed with frustration and helplessness. His throat tightened, and his vision blurred as the emotions he had been burying for weeks began to surface. "I'm trying, okay? I'm trying to figure it out, but every time I think I have a solution, something else comes up. I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I'm drowning."

"You're not the only one drowning!" Mendes fired back. "I've been trying to clean up this mess while you've been off in your own world. This isn't just about you!"

Pascal's chest heaved, his anger and guilt swirling together in a painful knot. "Don't you think I know that? I wake up every day feeling like a failure, like I've let everyone down—Mom, you, the investors. I can't fix this by myself!"

Mendes' voice softened just a fraction, but his eyes remained stern. "No one said you had to do it by yourself, but you need to pull yourself together. We're running out of time."

Pascal shook his head, his emotions finally breaking through the surface. His hands trembled as he leaned against the table for support, tears welling up in his eyes. "I miss her," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I miss her so much, Dad."

Mendes' expression shifted, the anger in his eyes replaced by something more raw. The mention of Pascal's late mother had pierced through his own defenses. For a moment, the weight of their shared loss hung heavy in the air between them.

"I know," Mendes said quietly, his voice rough. "I miss her too. Every day."

Pascal sank back into his chair, his shoulders slumping as tears streamed down his face. He wiped at them furiously, embarrassed by the outburst, but unable to stop the flood of grief that had been bottled up for so long.

"She was the only one who understood me," Pascal said, his voice breaking. "She always knew what to say. She always believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself."

Mendes sat down across from him, the anger in his posture fading as he saw the depth of his son's pain. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick with memories, with the unspoken grief that had been tearing at both of them since her death.

"She was proud of you," Mendes said finally, his voice softer than it had been all night. "She never stopped believing in you, even when things got tough. And she wouldn't want to see you like this."

Pascal nodded, his hands still shaking as he wiped at his tears. "I don't know how to do this without her, Dad. I feel like everything's falling apart, and I don't know how to put it back together."

Mendes reached across the table, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "None of us know how to do this without her. But we have to try. For her."

Pascal sniffed, nodding again, though the weight of the situation still pressed heavily on his chest. He didn't have any answers, and he knew that the road ahead was going to be brutal. But for the first time in weeks, he felt a sliver of clarity.

"We can figure this out," Mendes said firmly. "We'll come up with a plan. But you have to meet me halfway, Pascal. I can't do this alone."

Pascal looked up, meeting his father's gaze through tear-filled eyes. "I'll try, Dad. I will. I just… I need help."

Mendes gave a curt nod. "We'll get through this. But you've got to stay focused. We don't have much time."

Pascal swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "What do we do about the investors?"

Mendes leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought. "First, we need to buy some time. Convince them that we've got a plan in motion, even if it's not fully formed yet. We need to find a way to keep them off our backs while we figure this out."

Pascal nodded, though the idea of facing the investors made his stomach churn. "And after that?"

"We start looking for ways to cut our losses. Find new investors, new partners—people who can help us get out of this hole. It won't be easy, but it's our only shot."

Pascal wiped at his eyes one last time, his resolve slowly returning. It wasn't much, but it was a plan. And for the first time in weeks, he felt like he wasn't completely alone in this.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Let's do it."

Mendes stood, his eyes still heavy with the weight of their situation but softened with a glimmer of hope. "We'll make it through, son. One way or another, we'll make it through."

Pascal nodded, though the doubt still lingered in his heart. But for now, it was enough to have his father by his side, to have a moment of connection amidst the chaos.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get them through the storm ahead.