Joshua

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I lean back in my sleek, leather office chair, loosening my tie as the last rays of sunlight filter through the towering glass windows of my penthouse office. I stare out at the city, its hum of life a distant murmur behind the thick panes. To everyone else, this view– the sprawling skyline of Atlanta, glowing with promise and prosperity– is a symbol of my success. But to me, it’s starting to feel like a gilded cage.

At 35, I check off every box society (and my parents) had laid out before me. Ivy league education? Graduated at the top of my class from Yale. Thriving career? I’d built my tech company from a single idea scribbled on a napkin to a multi-million-dollar enterprise. Respect, power, and the kind of money most people only dreamed about. I have all of it.

What I don’t have is time.

Time to breathe. Time to think. Time to figure out why, despite everything I’d achieved, there is still a gaping hole in my chest that no amount of success can seem to fill. The shrill ring of my phone cut through the silence and my thoughts. I glance at the screen, my mother’s name flashing in bold letters. With a sigh, I swipe to answer.

“Hi, mom,” I say, trying to sound cheerful. 

“Joshua! I was beginning to think that I’d have to schedule a meeting with your assistant just to hear your voice,” she teases, though there’s a sharpness to her voice that betrays her.

I force a chuckle, “Things have been busy. You know how it is,”

“I do,” she says pointedly, “But it wouldn’t kill you to make time for your family. Or for yourself, for that matter. When’s the last time you had a real vacation?”

“I don’t need a vacation,” I reply, leaning forward to shuffle a few papers on my desk, 

“Work keeps me busy. Keeps me focused.”

My mother sighs, a sound I’d heard countless times, “Joshua, sweetheart, you’re not a machine. And while we’re on the subject of priorities, your father and I have been talking–”

Here it comes. I think to myself.

“--about your future. You’re not getting any younger, you know? Thirty-five is a fine age to settle down. Start a family.”

“I’m aware,” I reply dryly.

“Are you? Because every time I bring this up, you dismiss it like it’s nothing,”

“It’s not nothing. I just don’t think you can schedule a wife and kids into a five-year business plan,”

“Don’t be flippant, Joshua,” she scolds, “You know we only want what’s best for you. And frankly, I’m starting to worry you’ve buried yourself so deeply in work that you don’t know what that is anymore,”

Her words are hitting closer to home than I care to admit.

“Mom, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Really, I am. I just haven’t met the right person yet,” 

“Well, maybe you’re not looking in the right places,” she says, “Do you remember the McAllisters? Their daughter Rachel is back in town–”

“Mom, I’m not interested in a setup,” I groan into the phone. 

“It’s not a setup! It’s a friendly introduction. Besides, Rachel is lovely. She’s smart, accomplished–”

“Let’s drop it, okay? I’ll figure it out in my own time,”

She sighs again, “Fine, but don’t wait too long. Life is passing you by while you’re not paying attention.”

After we hung up the phone, I sat there in silence. Her words echo in my mind. I’m not blind to the fact that my life is imbalanced. Work has consumed me for so long that the idea of slowing down feels foreign to me– almost dangerous. 

    And yet, as I sit staring at the darkening skyline, I can’t help but wonder. What was the point of building an empire if I have no one to share it with?

    An hour or so later, I meet my brother, Jonathan, for drinks at a local spot called The Factory. It’s an old, industrial building that has been repurposed as a bar and hookah lounge. At 34, Jonathan and I are polar opposites. Where I am reserved and meticulous, Jonathan is carefree and spontaneous.

    “You look like hell,” Jonathan greets me as he slides a beer across the table.

    “Nice to see you too,” I mutter, taking a sip.

    “Let me guess,” he says as he leans back with a grin, “Ma on your ass again?”

    “She wants grandkids,” I tell him, “Yesterday.”

    “Well, she’s not exactly wrong. You are getting old, nigga,” he teases.

    “Thanks for the reminder, but you’re not that far behind me,”

    “Yeah, but I’m the fun one. Everyone expects me to stay single and irresponsible,”

    I smirk, “Must be nice,”

    “Why don’t you take a break? Get out of town for a while and clear your head?”

    “I can’t just up and leave,” I say, “The company–”

    “The company will be fine,” he interrupts, “You’ve got a whole team of folks to handle things. Come on, man. Let’s take a trip. Just the two of us. Somewhere warm, with no Wi-fi and plenty of rum.”

    I hesitate. The idea is tempting– more tempting than I care to admit.

    “Think of it as a reset,” he says to me, “and who knows, you may even meet someone.”

    I snort, “Highly unlikely.”

    “Hey, stranger things have happened,” he responds, “So, what do you say? Two weeks in Jamaica? No work, no stress, no parents?”

    I consider his offer for another moment before I nod my head. As cautious as I feel about it, I know that my baby brother is not going to take no for an answer. Jonathan raises his beer in triumph, and I feel a flicker of something I haven’t felt in a long time: anticipation.

    Maybe my brother and mom are right. Maybe it is time to step away from the spreadsheets and the skyline to see what else life has to offer.