Chapter 13 - FRANKLIN'S SHAME
Franklin began therapy too.
Ryan hated that.
“Why are you acting like you’re responsible?”
Franklin answered:
“Because responsibility isn’t a pie.”
Ryan frowned.
“My part doesn’t disappear because yours is larger.”
Franklin reviewed his own parenting.
He had confused:
providing with raising,
standards with character,
access to privilege with immunity from entitlement.
He told Ryan:
“I taught you to read a balance sheet before I taught you how power distorts rooms.”
Ryan answered:
“You taught me manners.”
“Manners are easy around people who can hurt your career.”
Silence.
Then Franklin admitted another shame.
He liked Ryan’s success.
Liked hearing:
your son is ruthless,
your son gets deals done,
your son doesn’t hesitate.
Franklin translated those compliments into:
strong.
Maybe he should have asked:
ruthless toward whom?
Then Ryan asked:
“Do you hate me?”
Franklin answered immediately.
“No.”
“Are you ashamed of me?”
Franklin took longer.
“Yes.”
Ryan’s face tightened.
Then Franklin continued:
“And of myself.”
That prevented the conversation from becoming moral theater.
Father and son had different failures.
Both real.
Then Ryan whispered:
“I thought you came to test me.”
Franklin shook his head.
“I came to verify a policy.”
“So I failed anyway.”
Franklin looked at him.
“You didn’t fail a test.”
Pause.
May you like
“You revealed a habit.”
That distinction would matter if Ryan ever changed.
