Chapter 49
Andrew
I’ve lost track of the days. My time at home has been a blur of sleep, self-pity, more sleep, Rice Krispies Treats I don’t eat and hot chocolate I don’t drink, overly cheerful chatter from my mom, and silence from my dad. My jeans, when I bother to put them on, are loose, and I don’t care.
I can hear Mom and Dad outside my door, arguing quietly. The bright sunlight seeps through the blinds. Groggy and with a pounding headache, I drag the clock into bed with me and press the button on top to light up the display: 3:00 PM.
I can feel an intervention coming on. It won’t be the first.
When the door opens I pull the quilt up over my head. Just as quickly, someone yanks it back.
“Drew,” my dad barks. “Enough. Get up. Get dressed. We’re going for a walk.”
I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to do anything.
Mom pretends to be busy scrubbing the sink as Dad silently hooks the leash on Shep’s collar and hands it to me. “I’ll have an early dinner ready when you get back,” she offers as he opens the back door and gestures for me to walk through it.
Shep takes the lead and I trudge along behind him. Dad walks with his hands in his pockets. When Shep stops to lift his leg to a curb, Dad turns to me. “You need a shave, and you need a haircut.”
He waits for a response from me, but he doesn’t get one.
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out with an, “Aw, hell.” Shep starts to walk on and I start to follow, but Dad takes the leash from me, and I dissolve into tears. I haven’t cried since they picked me up at that gas station some two weeks ago or so. I drop my head and hug my arms to myself. I don’t want to do this, but I can’t help myself anymore.
“Goddammit, Drew.” He hooks his arm around my neck, and we walk on. “You screwed up, Son. There’s no denying that. But that doesn’t make you a screwup. It’s time to be a man. Stop this wallowing and take charge of your life. I know you don’t think so, but you have options, and you have Kiki to think about. That adorable little girl needs her daddy.”
She’s not the only one, I suddenly realize. I need mine too. I stop and fall into him and let him hold me while I get it all out. When the sobbing eases up, he sits down on the curb and pulls me down with him. Shep pushes his wet nose into my palm.
“You’ve had two weeks of your mom’s coddling, Son. I’ve given you that. But that’s over, okay? You and me, we’re going to work through this. You need a job, and you need a plan. You’re a bright young man. You can do anything you want to do.”
“Except teach,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Then you will turn your talents elsewhere. I’m not going to do it for you, Drew, but I will support you in whatever you decide.”
I sniff and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“Are you disappointed in me?” I blink a few times, then turn my head to him.
“Oh, Drew.” He stretches out his legs. “I’ve known you a long time, Son. At first, yeah, I was a little surprised, maybe even shocked. This Robert was your student and that is a sacred relationship. But I’ve never known you to be anything but completely honorable. Sometimes too honorable.”
He smiles and scratches Shep’s head, and I know he’s thinking about my marriage to Maya.
“So,” he continues, “I have to believe that he was someone pretty special to you.” He pauses and fixes me with his eyes. “I just don’t know what you were to him and whether or not he was really worth everything that it cost you.”
I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes again.
“Look, Son, there’s an opening at the kiosk in the mall. It’s a decent job with some upward mobility. I’m not going to pave the way for you, but you’re certainly qualified and it’s a start.”
Selling cell phones? Is that where all my education has led me?
Dad seems to understand my silence. He pats me on the back. “You can stay with us for a while, get caught up on your child support, pay down your attorney’s fees some. And when you decide what you want to do with your life, you can move on.”
Robert
I look away. This should have been one of the best days of my life. It’s not, and I can’t pretend any differently.
Mom lowers the camera and sighs. “It’s just going to take time, baby.”
Time is something I have way too much of.
“Give me the camera,” I say, changing the subject. I hold out my hand.
She looks at me curiously. “Why?”
“I want to take a picture of you.”
“I’m not graduating. Why would you want a picture of me?”
“Just because.”
She hands the camera over with a curious smile, then strikes a diva pose. I snap a photo, then a few more because she will have photos.
“Enough,” she says, laughing. “This is your big day.”
“Yeah. Community college, here I come. Watch out world.”
She picks up an envelope from the table and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I open the envelope. Inside is a large, a very large, check signed by Aunt Whitney. I look up at Mom.
“Whitney and I had a come-to-Jesus meeting. She was pretty upset that you aren’t going to LSU. But, according to your grandfather’s will, if you choose not to go and pursue a degree in medicine, the money he’d set aside was to be split evenly amongst all his grandchildren. It’s not enough to get you through four years and veterinary school, but it’s a good start. This is just a loan until the funds are released. It’s her way of making peace.” She grins. “And you’re headed to Texas A and M, young man.”
“I’m not going to A and M. I didn’t make top ten percent.”
“I know that,” she says, touching my cheek. She’s been doing a lot of that lately—hugging me, putting a comforting hand on me. “But this money means you won’t have to work, and you won’t have to depend on massive loans. You can focus on your classes and transfer in next year.”
It takes only a split second to make my decision. “I don’t want it.” I stuff the check back in the envelope and hold it out to her. “I want to do it on my own, Mom. And I don’t want Grandfather’s money either. You can use it to pay down the house.”
“It’s not my money.”
“Then I’ll pay down the house with it. You’ve struggled enough.”
“Robert—”
I shake my head, and when she won’t take the envelope, I lay it back on the table.
Some state representative is giving the commencement speech today, but I’m not listening. I’m scanning the room. I don’t expect him to be here, but I can’t completely tamp down the hope sparking in my chest. I see Curtis sitting with Luke’s mom and dad. They’re the only faces that register with me as I fidget with the edges of my gown.
My row stands and I stand with them. We make our way to the stairs on the side of the stage. One by one, my classmates walk the stage.
“Blake Walker.”
Mom waves from the audience. I smile back weakly.
“Johnathan West.”
I climb the steps and take another good look at the families and friends who’ve come to celebrate this day. Where are you?
“Robert Westfall.”
I imagine that the room is unnaturally quiet as I shake Mr. Redmon’s hand—“I’m very proud of you, Robert”—and then the superintendent’s—“Congratulations, Son.”
And then I exit stage left.
It seems like everyone is in a hugging mood today, everyone but me, that is. Mom’s never met a lot of my friends so I introduce them as we go. Even Nic stops me for a perfunctory hug in the parking lot as we make our way to my car.
“You sure you don’t want to drop me at the house and go hang out with some of your friends?” Mom asks as I open the door for her.
“Robert.”
My head snaps up, and my heart thuds in my chest. Luke is bounding between the cars lined up to leave, dragging Curtis with him. He drops Curtis’s hand when he reaches the bumper and pulls me in for a big, swaying, back-slapping hug. “Congratulations, man,” he says.
“Yeah. You too,” I say when he releases me. “Hey, Curtis.”
Curtis eyes me with that mixture of suspicion and warning I’ve long since gotten used to, but he reaches out to shake my hand anyway. Damn, he’s possessive. But I know Luke is right when he says he’s got Curtis wrapped around his little finger.
“We’re not leaving for Galveston for another couple of hours,” Luke says. “Still time to change your mind.”
I turn away from Curtis and fix my eyes on Luke. “I thought he would be here.”