That had always been one of his habits.
He stirred his coffee for almost a minute before speaking.
“I read about the company.”
I smiled.
“That must have taken a while.”
“It did.”
“What did you think?”
“I understood about half of it.”
“That’s probably more than most articles.”
He smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“I found the government contract announcement.”
I waited.
“Your name wasn’t in it.”
“No.”
“But you told me.”
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“I really don’t remember.”
“I know.”
“That’s worse.”
I did not disagree.
He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the paper cup.
“I keep thinking about what I would have done if Vanessa had told me something like that.”
I already knew.
He did too.
“I would have asked questions.”
“Yes.”
“Probably too many.”
“Definitely.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked out the window.
For years, part of me had wanted that apology.
Now that I had it, it felt quieter than I expected.
Not disappointing.
Just human.
“No one ignored me every day,” I said.
“I know.”
“You weren’t terrible parents.”
“That almost makes me feel worse.”
“Why?”
“Because it means we got comfortable.”
I looked at him.
He continued.
“You didn’t demand much. So we kept giving attention to whoever demanded it.”
Neither of us said Vanessa’s name.
We did not need to.
“I should have noticed.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
For once, I let the sentence remain that simple.
Things did not transform overnight.
Mom did not suddenly understand my work.
Vanessa did not become fascinated by cybersecurity.
Dad still sometimes called Asteron “the company” because half the technical language confused him.
That was okay.
I had never needed them to become experts.
I needed them to stop confusing my independence with an absence of need.
A few months after graduation, Asteron opened a new engineering facility.
There was a modest event for employees and their families.
I invited my parents.
Then I hesitated before sending Vanessa an invitation.
Eventually I did.
All three came.
Mom arrived forty minutes early because she was terrified of missing something.
Dad wore a tie even though I told him not to.
Vanessa showed up in a dress that made several people assume she was attending a much fancier event.
That was Vanessa.
She took one photograph in front of the company sign.
Then she put her phone away.
During the tour, one of our engineers explained a security system to my parents.
Dad nodded seriously despite understanding almost none of it.
Mom asked what I had worked on personally.
It was not the right technical question.
It was the right family question.
Later, Vanessa found me near the back of the room.
“So this is really all yours?”
I looked around.
“No.”
She frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“It belongs to everyone who built it. I just own a large part of the company.”
“You know what I meant.”
I smiled.
“There it is again.”
She laughed.
Then she looked through the glass wall at hundreds of employees moving between offices.
“You did this while I was doing pageants.”
“I wasn’t exactly hiding in a basement.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“Was I awful to you?”
That was the first time she had ever asked.
I thought about lying.
Then I decided not to.
“Sometimes.”
She nodded.
“You were awful to me sometimes too.”
“I probably was.”
“You definitely were.”
We both laughed.
Then she became serious.
“I really thought you didn’t care that we missed graduation.”
“Why?”
“Because you said not to worry about it.”
“I said that because arguing wasn’t going to make you stay.”
Her face changed.
“Oh.”