Parents

Steven did not like to speak of his parents.  As far as he was concerned, they were responsible for much of what he is.  Cold, calculating people, they refused to ever acknowledge the innocence that is the birthright of all children.

            For the first 12 years or so of his life, he did not even know his parents’ names.  His live-in au pair eventually clued him in that these two strangers who occasionally sat at the other end of the table were his parents.  He remembered the night when the family lawyer sat him down and explained what his duties as the only son entailed.  He forced 13 year old Steven to read and sign a 45 page document.

            Whenever Steven had a complaint, or wished his parents presence, he had to submit a letter to the box outside their bedroom.  For his fifth grade science fair he had to wait two weeks for a response.  Even then, it was non-committal.  His father, a successful CEO, ran everything like a business.  This included his relationship with his son.  He treated Steven like the boy in the mail room.

            His mother was a hypochondriac and neat freak, and it was from her that Steven most took after.  She would inspect his room with a white glove, and any speck of dirt was sternly rebuffed.  She was also agoraphobic, which meant that Steven never went anywhere as a child.  His sunny days were spent in the library, listening to one of the few things his parents let him have in abundance, music. 

            Steven thought about all these things as He listened to his bass player, Leonard, tell him stories about the things his parents did.  It was then that Steven started to realize that, perhaps, he and Leonard had more in common that he realized.