Chapter 8 - The Flight to the Coast
The Board of Directors finally made their move.
They filed an injunction,
claiming I was mentally unfit to lead.
The press was hounding the front door of the Atoria.
Flashes went off every time a car left the garage.
It was becoming too much for Leo.
The vibrations of the city were turning toxic again.
"We’re leaving,"
I told Frankie.
"Where?"
"The coast."
"The house in Maine."
"No internet."
"No bodyguards."
"Just us."
Frankie looked worried.
"The shareholders will riot,
David."
"Let them,"
I said.
"I'm resigning."
"I'm cashing out."
I went to Savannah and told her my plan.
"I can't ask you to leave your life,"
I said.
"But Leo needs you."
"And I...
I need to learn how to be the man he needs."
She looked at me,
really looked at me,
and I saw a spark of something new.
Respect.
"I'll go,"
she said.
"But you're driving."
We packed the car in the middle of the night.
Leo held his towel rabbit,
his eyes fixed on the moon.
As we crossed the George Washington Bridge,
I looked back at the skyline.
The lights of the city that had defined me for forty years were fading.
I felt lighter than I had ever felt.
We drove through the night,
into the salt air and the silence of the pines.
When we arrived at the house on the cliff,
the sun was rising over the Atlantic.
Leo got out of the car and ran toward the grass.
He didn't cover his ears.
He listened to the waves.
May you like
He listened to the gulls.
He was home.
