Desi Mom

You see, I really did die that night. John Garson, driven businessman, raconteur, incipient alcoholic, is no more. He died when I accepted my death on that rooftop. I go by Jay Garson now. I'm quieter. I still have my sense of humor, but I don't need to be the center of events. One glass of wine is enough for dinner, no nightcaps need apply. I'm content to enjoy life as it comes. I date occasionally, but I'm not looking for one night stands anymore. When I meet a woman, she has to meet a much different set of standards.I glossed over my description of awakening on the setback that morning. I was in a daze. It took me quite some time to realize that I was alive. It was the pain that finally broke through my stupor. My mind split in two for a while. One small part was rational and knew I had to get out of the building before the workers and staff arrived. That was the part that made the phone call and remembered to ask for clothes. That was the part that knew my survival must be kept. A wife who cooks, a son who listens and a job that kept them comfortable. Not rich, even. Just happy. He was perfect.But, of course, it all ended when Kaiba-sama returned. I had tried to keep Kaiba-san informed and tried to convince him that the stock price fall was not a simple flux. I'd been watching the market for him long enough to recognize a problem when I saw one. But he was too lost in infatuation to notice or care. That had happened before but usually he tired of them in a day or so. A week was the longest. A month was unheard of. And Kaiba-sama was furious.Father and son were nothing alike in the Kaiba family. Where Kaiba-san was tightly focused, Kaiba-sama was all-seeing. He was unpredictable and unlike his son, often cruel. When he came to Kaiba-san's office I often heard him yelling. I frequently heard the slapping. Occasionally the bones breaking. I had more than once assisted in covering up Kaiba-san's bruises or deeper injuries. Treatment he didn't deserve.Simple, I.
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