Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” His voice was rough, more gravelly than it had been; smoking, drugs, and alcohol had taken their toll.
When he opened the door, I gasped. He looked a hundred years older. Had a beer belly but a gaunt face. A cigarette hung from his lips, and he had a beer in his hand.
“Holy fuck! Gage? Isn’t this a damn surprise!” He shocked me by wrapping his arms around me, hugging me. I froze, didn’t let go of Joey’s hand. When he pulled back, he saw how we held each other and laughed. “Always knew you were queer with this one.”
Because of course he would say something like that, as if it hadn’t been obvious we were together after everything went down.
“Come in.” Dad stepped back. The trailer was a mess, though it always had been. He had the same furniture. Smoke was thick in the air. Too many bottles and beer cans to count littered the place. “You little bastard, dropped off the face of the earth.”
“I was in prison.”
“Goddamn hero, if you ask me! His daddy was always a fucking asshole.”
I flinched. While I’d begun to make peace with what I did, it felt wrong to hear him say I was a hero. It was different from how Joey had said I took care of him. Dad wanted him dead because he used to arrest him for public intoxication.
“Want a drink? We should have a drink. I think I have stuff for some shots around here somewhere.”
“I don’t want a drink, Dad.” I sat down on the dirty couch, Joey beside me.
“Suit yourself.” Dad grabbed a bottle of whiskey, drinking straight from it while he sat in a chair. “So, where you been?”
I gave him a brief rundown—prison, parole, Southern California. “I always wondered if maybe you’d come see me,” I admitted.
He took a drink. “You know I can’t handle being around that many badges. Makes me twitchy. What good could going to see you do? Wasn’t like I could change anything.”
“No, you couldn’t, but it would have been nice to know you cared.”
He frowned, chuckled. “You’re my kid. Of course I care. Just fucking hate cops. You coulda come here when you got off just as easily.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I guess.” I’d hoped for more. Despite knowing he hadn’t changed—Mouse and Romeo kept me updated—somehow, I’d still hoped.
“He deserved better,” Joey said. “He’s your son. He was in prison. He deserved better.”
Dad shrugged. “Maybe he did. Can’t change the past. I was never cut out to be a father anyway. Bitch got pregnant and then left when he was a couple years old. She shoulda known not to get knocked up. I didn’t want the responsibility of a kid. Could hardly take care of myself.” Another drink. “But looks like I did okay. Looks like you turned out okay.”
“Not because of you,” rushed out of my mouth. “Did you know I could hardly read when I was younger? That I struggled in school? That Joey is the only reason I was able to get by without dropping out? You never once asked me if I did my homework, if I needed help, cared if I missed school, if I drank. You never went to my baseball games. Nothing.”
“That why you came here? To bust my balls over being a shitty dad? I already knew that before you came. You wasted a trip.” He took a few more swigs of whiskey.
“You know, I used to feel stupid because I wasn’t as smart as everyone else. I used to feel like I was broken. If my own dad didn’t love me or care enough about me to be a good father, what did that say about me? But the truth is, I don’t feel that way anymore. I have people who love me. I know I’m a good person, and…and I’m offering you help.”
Joey’s head whipped around so he faced me. I could see it in my periphery.
“There’s a rehab center in Sacramento. We’ll take you there. If you’re willing to go, I’ll find a way to pay for it, even if it means taking out a loan. If not, this is goodbye.”
He didn’t answer right away. He took another drink, set the bottle down, and I let myself hope. Dad lit a cigarette, took a few drags. I held my breath. Joey’s hold on me was tight, his hand in my lap, his arm touching mine, letting me know he was there, always there.
“Too old to give a shit about making changes now. If that’s all you came here for, you shoulda just stayed away.” Dad picked up the bottle again, and somehow, I just…let go. He’d made his decisions. He was who he was, and that had nothing to do with me. I deserved more than he’d ever given me. I’d deserved love. I would do whatever I could to love myself, to love Joey and my friends. That was really what life was about, wasn’t it? The love we gave and received from others.