I’VE MADE it about half a block down the street when two things happen. First, my phone buzzes with a new text. Second, as I reach to retrieve it from my pocket, my father’s Camry rolls slowly toward me on the street. He’s on his way home from work.
Shit.
The car pulls over to the curb, and the window rolls down. “John? Something wrong?”
Why yes, there is.
I walk over to the car and peer into the window. “I’m sorry,” I say, then kick myself. This shit just isn’t my fault. “Mom invited Pastor VanderBeek over for dinner. I asked her whether there was some kind of agenda there. She said yes. They want to talk about therapy.”
My father’s face falls. “I didn’t know she would do that.”
“I know,” I say, certain he’s telling the truth. “But she did it anyway.”
“Get in,” my dad urges, reaching across to pull the handle on the passenger door.
“Uh, I can’t, okay? I was fine with silence, but I don’t need to hear that man shame me to my face.”
“Just get in so I can talk to you for a second.” He turns the key, cutting the engine to prove his intentions.
So I do it. I slide onto the passenger seat, my bag at my feet, and we sit parked in front of a stranger’s house, both silent for a moment.
“Look. I understand if you can’t stay,” he says.
“You do?”
“Yes, okay? Yes. I get it. Your mother isn’t going about this the right way.”
“Going about what?” I demand. “You can’t change me, and I don’t want to be changed.” My throat closes up on the last word, leaving me to gulp audibly. For the first time in ages, I feel out of control.
“I’m not going to try to change you,” he says quietly. “I…did some reading. Those therapies don’t work, and they’re cruel.”
The pressure builds inside my chest. “No kidding. But it pisses me off that you’d want to change me. That’s not what parents are supposed to do.” You’re just supposed to love me.
Right. Dream on.
Dad lets out a sigh. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t have chosen a different path for you. Don’t forget that my introduction to the topic was finding you bloody in a hospital bed. What parent wants that?”
I make an angry noise. “That’s a cop-out. It shouldn’t matter that my life got a little ugly there for a minute. That was just bad luck. You don’t get to tell me that you wish the world was different, and then drive my ass out of state to solve the problem. ‘Better sprint out of town with our pervert kid so nobody knows.’”
My father’s chin drops. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like a dirty secret.”
“But you’re still doing it! If you want me to come home and eat taco bake, I shouldn’t have to lie to do it. Either I’m your son and you can say that out loud, or I’m not. It’s your call.”
“You are my son,” he says quickly. “I accept you. But I don’t know how to get your mother to do the same.”
“I don’t trust it.” Shit. The truth just keeps falling out of my mouth. “If you accept me, then you should be able to tell her how it is.”
“I have,” he says with a sharpness I’m not expecting. “But she won’t engage. And so I’m just stumped. When I married your mother, I said, ‘Until death do us part.’ I made a vow. There’s no exception for when your spouse is wrong, John. Seven years ago we had a crisis, and I didn’t like any of your mother’s solutions.”
A chill snakes up my back. “What did she want to do with me?”
He tosses his head as if shaking off the memory. “It doesn’t matter now. I knew she was wrong. So I did the best thing I could at the time. I put you in the car and I drove you to the person that I trust most in the world.” My father’s voice is shaking now. “And she was so good for you. When we walked in the door of your grandmother’s home, she smiled like your bruised face was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.” He swipes at his eyes with the back of one hand.
And now mine are damp, too.
“…so I knew I’d done something right. I left you in her care. Then I came home to work on your mother. I thought she needed just a little time to get over her shock. That she’d calm down and make the right decision. But it backfired. You were out of her sight, and she rewrote the story in a way that was easier for her to accept. And meanwhile, you were doing so well. You had a new hockey team and good grades. Friends. Your grandmother made sure to tell me all the nice things that happened to you.”
“I had a boyfriend,” I say, wondering if he can say that word aloud.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “Skippy. I knew that, too. So even though I failed you at home, I knew you were okay. I’d done one little thing right. And I let myself believe it was enough. I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t care.”
My eyes leak. We sit there in silence for a couple of minutes, just taking up space and feeling like shit.
I never should have come here.
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go now,” my father says eventually. “You’re right that there’s no reason why you need to listen to VanderBeek’s bullshit. We could go out for a beer somewhere together.”
“I’m going to stay with Graham,” I say, clearing my throat. “I already texted him.” I haven’t actually communicated with him yet, but it doesn’t matter. When someone loves you, they’re always ready for you.
I pull out my phone and find his response. At Founders Brewing Co with HS hockey team. Miss you.
“Can you drive me to Founders?” I ask. “That’s where G is, and I’ve never been to that place.”
My dad lets out a disappointed sigh. “All right. But I hope you’ll say goodbye before you go on Thursday.”
I don’t make any promises.
He puts the car in gear and starts her up.
It’s a twenty-minute drive, and I spend it thinking about Graham and how happy he’ll be that I have a couple of extra days to spend with him.
The car is silent until the moment my father pulls up in front of the giant brewery building.
“Wow,” I say, eyeing the place. “They must print money in this place.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” When I open the car door, my father grips my forearm. “One second, okay?”
Slowly, I turn back to face him.
“What can I do for you?” he asks.
“Uh…” I glance at the bar, wishing myself inside. I’m so close to freedom, and I don’t know how to interpret his question.
“Next time we see each other, how about I visit you?” he suggests. “I could come to one of your games in the fall.”
“Okay,” I say quickly. A visit on my own turf sounds about a thousand times better than this debacle.
“What else?”
“The tuition you’ve been paying,” I blurt out. “I want my degree, and I appreciate your help with the part that financial aid doesn’t cover.”
“Of course. That’s a given.”
Hearing that brings my blood pressure down more than a few notches. “That’s really all I need, I guess. For now. I’ll spend next summer with Gran again. It’s my last chance before I graduate in a year.”
“One more year,” he says.
“Yeah. Pretty hard to believe.”
He actually smiles. “Please take care of yourself. Call my cell if there’s something else I can do for you.”
“All right. Thanks.” I wrench my bag off the floor of the car and push the door open wider.
“Hey.”
I look back one more time after getting out.
“I’m proud of you.”
Shit! My eyes well up immediately. “Thanks,” I say, giving him an awkward wave before shutting the door. Then I’m standing there on the sidewalk in front of a giant brew pub, my eyes like fountains.
Because I’d needed to hear that so very badly.
I wait until my dad drives off down the street. Then I take a deep breath and begin a slow trip around the building. The brewery takes up an entire city block. By the time I make it to the entrance, the cold winter air has dried my eyes. They’re probably red, though.
Graham won’t care.
“Enjoy,” the bouncer says after checking my ID.
“Thanks.”
