The Venture Capitalist Read Free

called The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face . And it’s the other part of my Christmas present to you.”
    “Oh Tristan. Thank you.” She held her arms out as she’d done for Nathan earlier, and I went willingly into them. Holding her was like holding a fragile doll in my arms, and I was careful not to squeeze her too tight, because I felt like I might crush her, and her breathing was already labored. “Okay, here goes nothing,” I said, and I began to play the tune made famous by Roberta Flack.
    As I played, I remembered the earliest memory I had of Elizabeth Carollton White, singing to Nathan and me in the nursery. We would grin like mirror images at her when she sang, and we’d clap our chubby little hands right along with her. I remember her taking us to pre-school, then grade school where she attended our many school plays, recitals, and sports events. Then I remember her just running out of energy one day at poolside and Nathan ran to get Mrs. Naven while I held her in my arms. We were eleven at the time. As I was nearing the end of the song, she lay back and closed her eyes. I continued to play, convinced that I was soothing her in slumber. I was still playing when my father and Nathan entered the room.
    My father took one look at my mother, lying there motionless, and rushed to her bedside, holding a hand up, motioning for me to stop. “Son.” He said simply.
    I stood up, dropping my saxophone to the floor. I’d been playing the song in a loop and did not hear the noise being made by the monitor. My mother had flat-lined, and I was still playing that sappy song. My father quickly buzzed the nurse who came rushing in.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. White,” Nurse Lawler said. “I was in the powder room and I didn’t hear.”
    “Just help her,” my father said helplessly.
    The nurse began CPR while my father held my mother’s hand on the opposite side of the bed. The nurse was winded and perspiring an interminable time later when she finally, sadly shook her head.
    My father seemed not to comprehend what she was saying at first. He gathered my mother into his arms and held her, speaking softly to her as if she were still alive. Nathan and I stood in stunned silence, watching as he gently stroked her face, kissed her lips and lay her back down on the bed.
    He turned to Nathan and me, a look of utter sadness on his face, but even in the midst of that, he tried to smile. For us. He opened his arms to us, but we didn’t move quickly enough. Suddenly my father dropped to his knees. His face crumpled like a piece of paper you might ball up to throw away. Sobs began to wrack his body, each one laden with pain so severe, his whole body trembled.
    At first he made no sound, then he gasped, took air into his lungs and bawled like an infant. His eyes were closed as tight as fists, as rivulets of tears streamed down his face. He dug his nails tightly into his trembling palms, hoping this pain might assuage the other. The sounds coming from deep within his gut were so utterly surprising it delayed the reaction from Nathan and me. Never had we seen our father in this state. I was equal parts afraid of what this had done to my father and equal parts sad that I had lost my mother.
    Nathan and I, finally able to move descended on my father’s kneeling form, grabbed him and squeezed. I wanted to say something, to comfort my father, but my throat was constricted and my mind was blank. Nathan winced and peered through narrowed eyes at the scene unfolding around us. He couldn't look at our mother. And he couldn't look away. The conflict on his face was clear as tears ran unchecked down his face, as well. Then tears stung my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.
    As we mourned together in a huddle in the center of the room, my father’s sobs became short gasping breaths. Suddenly, he grabbed his ribs, bent forward, and the floor met his face with a loud thud. The nurse came to his aide, moving us gently out of the way. It was probably the