Gamers Pt. 11

But my father always told me to begin as I meant to carry on. I would treat Mr. M___ with respect, but not subservience. He was entitled to be grumpy - but not rude.

Dinner was a little awkward, because of his mood, but Reem directed the conversation to safe topics. It wasn't until the sisters served coffee after the meal that the fireworks started.

- "So you are still in school, Dean?" said Mr. M___.

- "I'll be starting fourth year in September, Sir." I said.

- "What is your program? Computer games?"

- "Math, Sir." I said.

That slowed him down for a minute. I was sure that Jazz had told him, at some point, but it was obviously something he had not considered important enough to remember.

- "Ah. How much is your tuition?" he asked.

- "I'm on full scholarship, Sir. $12,000 last year, but it's going up to $16,000. Tuition at my university is a little over $7,000."

- "Is this financial aid that you receive?" he continued, taking one more shot.

- "Daddy!" protested Jazz.

- "It's alright. Your father is curious. It's an academic scholarship, Sir. If I can maintain my grade point average in my final year, I will graduate magna cum laude." I was keeping my voice neutral, but Mr. M___ was looking me in the eye as I said it. He could tell that this line of questioning wasn't paying dividends for him.

So he changed tack. "This ... obsession with games - isn't this a distraction?" At this point, Liam showed his disapproval by getting up and leaving the table.

- "It's a hobby, Sir." I said. "I was not planning on selling my game. It was just something that I designed for your daughter and some of our friends."

He grunted, clearly unimpressed.

Liam returned from the kitchen with two beers, putting one of them on the table in front of me. "Would you like a drink, Mr. M___?" he asked.

- "No, thank you, Liam. Maybe just a little more coffee." Reem got him a refill.

It felt like halftime, or intermission, as dear old Dad put cream and sugar in his coffee. But he wasn't finished with me.

- "I understand that you made some money on this game?" he asked.

- "Daddy." said Jazz. "Look." She handed him the cheque that I had brought her.

He didn't even flinch. "And how much have you made on the sale?" he asked me.

- "Nothing yet, Sir. With my father's advice, I chose to take a percentage of future sales."

- "How much?" he asked, bluntly.

- "I will earn a little over two dollars for each unit sold." I answered.

- "And how many do you expect to sell?" he continued.

- "The company has projected sales between 25,000 and 35,000 units. They could be wrong, of course."

I have to give Mr. M___ some credit. When he found his way blocked, he could switch to another line of argument without a pause.

- "So you could make $70,000 - while my daughter gets ten?"

- "Daddy!" protested Jazz.

- "That's unfair, Father." said Reem. "Why are you being this way?"

- "It's alright." I said. "Sir, if Amazons sellsmorethan 25,000 copies, Jasmine will receive royalty cheques. If sales reach 50,000 units, she will have earned another $10,000. The Game company is also considering buying a second game from me, which Jasmine helped me design, as well as drawing the board. We would share any earnings there."

- "Dean, no." she said. "That was your work."

- "Your ideas, as much as mine." I said. "We collaborated. Then I made the rules, while you designed the board."

She gave me a beautiful smile, and covered my hand with her own.

- "Yes - that's very nice." said her father. "But what happens to this business relationship in a year's time, or two years? How can you maintain this arrangement when you are living on separate continents?"

- "Well, Sir - that's something I wanted to discuss with you."

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he just stared at me with narrowed eyes. Jazz squeezed my hand - in encouragement, I hoped.

- "Go on." said her father.

I was ready. I had been rehearsing this speech for weeks.

- "In a year's time, we both graduate. I intend to go on to graduate school. Jasmine isn't quite certain yet. She may look for a job, or she might stay in school. Either way, Sir - I would like it if we could pursue our careers in the same city. At home - or here."

I had just dropped an atomic bomb - but he showed no reaction.

- "Liam, I will take you up on your offer. A scotch, I think - neat. If you don't mind." he said. After years of gaming, I have no trouble recognizing delaying tactics. Jazz's father waited to be served before coming at me again.

"Dean," he said, "you seem to be a bright young man. But have you considered the pitfalls of a long-distance relationship? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I know - but not for years. And the distance couldn't possibly be greater."

"You two have known each other for, what? A few months? How can you be so sure that you are ready to commit your future to such a brief impression?"

- "Daddy." said Reem. "They've known each other longer than Liam and I did before I came here. Are you questioningmyrelationship, too?"

Mr. M___ seemed annoyed by her intervention. "That was ... different. You were older."

- "One year older." said Reem. She crossed her arms. "And Dean has just said that they will wait until they both graduate." God bless her. I already liked Reem, but that night she became one of my favorite people in the whole world.

- "I am talking with Mr. Dean here." said her father. "Please let us finish. Now - where was I? Ah - yes. What makes you think that you will still feel this way a year from now?"

There it was: the million dollar question.

- "Two reasons. First, we've already been apart for a year, and my feelings for Jasmine are stronger now than when we parted. Second, and most important: because your daughter is the most beautiful person I've ever met." I couldn't help looking at Jazz. There was a tear in her eye. Also, she was squeezing the shit out of my hand.

- "You exaggerate." said her father. "I am well aware that my daughter is a lovely young lady, but 'most beautiful'? And you must know that beauty is only skin deep. Physical appearance will only take you so far. You should not base a relationship solely on her looks."

- "I wasn't talking about her looks."

He didn't quite know how to respond to that. I didn't give him a chance to answer.

"Jasmine is generous, and selfless. She put my happiness ahead of her own. She is confident, strong-willed, and independent. She doesn't suffer fools gladly - a trait I'm told she gets from her father. She's a talented artist, and a good teacher. She makes me laugh. Better yet, she makes me feel good, and feel good about myself. She has also given me the most beautiful gifts I've ever received."

He sat still, silent, absorbing what I had said. Then he spoke.

- "That's all very well, but Jasmine may not feel the same. She's still ..."

Jazz lifted her hand from mine, and reached out to touch her father. Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

- "I know what I want, Daddy."

- "You're still too young to know what's best for you." he insisted.

- "Damn it!" shouted Reem. She jumped to her feet, and stormed from the room. Even Liam looked stunned at her ferocious outburst. We heard her stomping up the stairs. A few moments later, she came stomping back down.

Reem charged back into the dining room. In her hand she carried Jazz's painting. She thrust it in front of her father.

- "Look! Look at this!" she shouted. "Why can't you understand?She loves him! She's been miserable and lonely for a year. But look at her now! Can't you see the difference?"

A less stubborn man would have caved in, but Mr. M___ was no quitter. He looked at me, and then at Liam.

- "Gentlemen? Would you excuse us?" he asked.

We did. Jazz kissed me, smearing tears across my cheek.

- "It'll be fine." she whispered.

Liam took me down the road, to a pub. He bought us two pints - each.

- "No worries." he said. "They'll sort him out. E's a stubborn old bastard, but there's no way he can fight both of 'em."

- "You think so?"

He snorted. "I know so. Could you resist those two?"

- "I wouldn't even try." I said.

- "Wise man. Mr. M___'s not all that bad, once you get to know him. 'As his moods, of course, but he's been pretty decent to me."

I wanted to believe him. I just wasn't sure.

"Trust me." he said. "Let's get your mind off o' this. No point worryin' 'bout what you can't change, anyway. You play darts?"

- "Not very well."

- "Perfect. Let's play, then." he said.

Four pints later, Liam's cell phone vibrated. He took a quick look.

"There we go. All done."

Back at their house, there was no sign of the girls. Mr. M___ was downstairs, by himself. Liam got the message - with a nod to me, he excused himself. That left me alone with Jazz's father. Mr. M___ stood up.

- "I see that Liam has been showing you some of the local colour." he said.

- "He has."

Mr. M___ came straight to the point. "Dean, I must apologize. I've acted very badly. I should have been hospitable, and welcoming. Instead, I've subjected you to unfair questions - an 'interrogation', my daughter told me."

"Will you accept my apology?"

He looked 100% sincere.

- "I understand, Sir. You were just being protective of your daughter." I said.

- "Over-protective. And rude. I'm very sorry. I should learn to trust my daughter. Daughters. I have found very little in their judgment to criticize in the past." He scratched his head. "Will you have a drink with me? And allow me to at least begin to make amends?"

I had had more than enough to drink by that point, but it would have been impolite to reject this olive branch. With a beer for me, and a scotch for him, we sat down in the living room.

Mr M___ asked about my parents, and about Jazz's friends. In turn I asked about his wife - Jazz's mother, who had passed away when she was 14. Maybe I was just lucky, and hit a positive chord. Or, maybe he was truly making an effort to be pleasant. Either way, we had a decent conversation.

When our drinks were done, he nodded at the stairs.

- "She'll be waiting for you." he said. "Tell her I'm sorry to have kept you so long."

I wished him a good night, and climbed the stairs.

Jazz was sitting up in bed, pretending to read a book. I nodded, to let her know that it had gone well. She sighed, and then held out her arms to me.

- "I'm so proud of you." she murmured. "You were wonderful."

- "You sealed the deal." I replied. "You and Reem. I don't know what you said - or did - but it worked."

- "Let's discuss it later." she suggested. "Right now, I have this incredible urge to make love with you."

**************************

We have lived happily ever since.

THE END

**************************

Thank you all for your support, and the constructive criticism.