Page 7 of Beautiful Small Things

We catch small waves for about two hours until the sets get bigger. Orion is a more natural surfer than myself, so he can catch a barrel and maneuver through it until the lip breaks and he rides out the wave. I tried to catch the same wave but wiped out early.

“Hey, are you good?” Orion yells, paddling over to me.

Pushing my hair back off my face, I nod and smile. “Fine.”

I love being in the water. It speaks to my soul in a way that only books and a very select few humans do. My dad had me on a surfboard before I could walk. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s part of my molecular makeup.

“I’m getting tired. Let’s go get a burger,” he says, paddling in. I follow behind him because eating is the one thing I love as much as surfing.

Orion is mid-bite, french fry in the air, with a confused look. “So you’re interviewing your dad about his life to write a letter about why he deserves this award?”

“Correct. It’s a cool idea, right?”

He pops the fry into his mouth and nods his head. “Yeah. I think it could be. It’s a very ‘Iris-thing’ to do. But shouldn’t the recommendation be more geared to what he’s accomplished in his field?”

“It will,” I answer. “I just want people to get an idea of who he is as a person. He’s more than his accomplishments.”

“I get that,” he says with a nod. “So you are talking to everyone in the family?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with Aunt Jem,” he snorts. “Those two have the craziest history. I’m not even clear on the entire thing. I just know it was messy.”

“I’m looking forward to talking to her the most. Other than your dad, she knows Marcus Sinclair better than anyone.”

“Well, I’ve heard her and Mom talk about him before, and it can become heated. He gets under her skin like no one else. Be prepared.”

“Noted and not at all surprising,” I smile, looking forward to spending some alone time with the woman who is the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever known.

Chapter four

Mischievous for the Greater Good

Marcus

Later that evening at dinner, Iris and I pick up where we left off from our earlier conversation. I’m exhausted from my quick flights to San Francisco and back, but that’s the epicenter of our production facilities.

“I appreciate you taking the time to write this recommendation, but I’m not sure if a retelling of my entire life is necessary. They only care about my accomplishments in the field.”

“It’s an interesting angle,” Iris says, taking out the necessary dishes to make her favorite meal - breakfast for dinner: pancakes and eggs.

“If it’s sub-par, I’ll rewrite it. I want to talk to family members and gather interesting information that paints a picture of who you are as a whole person, not just a doctor.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” I state, turning my attention to her by sitting back in my chair and placing my glass of whiskey on the table. “I’m just not sure anyone cares what I was like as a child.”

“I disagree. You’re a fascinating person,” she says unironically, being the most fascinating person I’ve ever known. “You managed to amass a fortune in pharmaceutical technology after earning your MD, which no one saw coming.”

I scratch the back of my head before I reply. “I don’t know if I would use the word ‘fascinating.’ That’s very subjective. But you’re right. No one thought I would actually make it through medical school,” I deadpan.

“You can’t blame them, though. It’s common knowledge that you lived like a frat boy on spring break. You are brilliant, but back then, you were also a mess.”

I nod. She knows the story. Everyone knows the story. “That’s accurate.”

“Then you managed to pull it all together to care for a child who was quite literally dropped on your doorstep,” she says. “Now here you are, 47 years old, and the CEO of one of the world’s most successful Biotechnology companies. It’s extraordinary.”

“Yes, that’s me, Iris,” I say between sips of my drink, “I’m extraordinarily old now.”

“Old is a very subjective word,” she says, parroting my words from earlier. “And you are not boring. I’m excited to speak to everyone about you. You, Grammie and Pops, Uncle Callan, Auntie Colby, my cousins, and obviously, Jem.”