Micah
Micah was in Rhina’s kitchen Tuesday afternoon when, wondering how Adrien’s meeting with his siblings had gone—the man had been nervous about it during their Sunday night shift—he heard the sound of the front door closing and footsteps coming down the hall.
He turned from the counter where he was chopping vegetables for dinner on his day off, shocked to see Caleb walk through the door. His son paused briefly, scanning the contents of the counter before looking at Micah, his wavy blond hair falling in his eyes.
“Hey,” he said before slinging his backpack into a chair at the kitchen table, pulling his jacket off, and tossing it on top of his bag. He shifted nervously from foot to foot.
What was he doing here?
Caleb shoved his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. “Want to set the knife down, dude?”
Micah knit his brows then looked down to find he still held the big chopping knife he’d been using. He set it on the cutting board and wiped his hands on the dishtowel he had slung over his shoulder.
“So, uh, what are you making?” Caleb asked, sidling up beside Micah, grabbing a piece of bell pepper off the cutting board, popping it into his mouth.
Vegetable thief. Just like his mom.
“Pork chops, rice, and vegetables,” Micah said, still a bit confused. He wasn’t unhappy to see his son. On the contrary, he was thrilled…but surprised. Caleb had made it clear that he wouldn’t be home for dinner tonight.
Micah had been making an effort to reach out to Caleb, no matter how many times his son pushed him away and rejected him. Adrien had been right. The onus wasn’t on Caleb to build a relationship, it was on Micah.
He’d continued to keep his distance when Caleb and his friends came in to study at the Bright Bean. But, when they were home, Micah always asked Caleb about school, friends, his interests.
Then, yesterday, when he, Rhina, and Caleb had breakfast, Micah had worked up the courage to ask Caleb for a little one-on-one bonding time. “So, uh, I know you usually go to your grandparents’ house after school when your mom works in the evenings during the week, but I was wondering if you might be up to coming home and having dinner here with me tonight and tomorrow?” Micah gripped his coffee mug nervously, but continued. “Mondays and Tuesdays are your mom’s late shift, but they’re my days off so…” He rubbed the back of his neck, trailing off as Caleb stared at him blankly.
“That sounds like a great idea!” Rhina chimed in brightly, always championing Micah’s efforts with their son. “And that way I won’t have to pick you up from Grammy and PopPop’s house.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” Caleb murmured, grabbing his jacket and backpack and heading toward the door.
Micah looked down into his coffee, his face warm as his son slammed out of house.
Rhina stood from the table and came around to where Micah sat, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, just give him time. He’ll come around. He needs you, Micah. Just—just don’t give up on him.”
He looked up at her. “Never.”
Rhina nodded with a sympathetic smile then went back upstairs to shower. Her words had echoed Adrien’s. They both said that Caleb needed him. That Micah shouldn’t give up on trying to make a connection with his son. But each time he tried and Caleb rejected him, a piece of Micah withered.
Maybe he was better off staying away? Maybe Caleb really didn’t want anything to do with him? And why would he? Micah had nothing to offer as a father. Caleb and Rhina had been doing fine before Micah had come back on the scene.
Despite Adrien and Rhina’s encouragement, Micah’s old doubts about his place in Caleb’s life crept in.
He wanted to connect with Caleb, have a relationship with him as a teen and an adult because Micah had always wished he’d been closer to his own father at that age. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have ended up in prison. He wasn’t blaming his father. Micah had run afoul of the law of his own free will. And it wasn’t that he hadn’t had a positive male influence growing up. He hadn’t had any male influence growing up.
Micah was fifteen years younger than his brother, and his parents had let him know at a young age that he had been a surprise. An unwanted surprise. They hadn’t been cruel about it, just matter-of-fact.
And when he hadn’t turned out to be a copy of his perfect brother, his parents had written him off, treating him as an inconvenience or with indifference.
At first, his bad behavior had been a way to get their attention. And then, the guys that he’d run with had become the closest thing to family he had. Until he got busted. Then they got scared and abandoned him.
Rhina had been his only friend, even after they’d split up, and even when he’d been sentenced to prison, she’d answered his letters and taken his calls.
But now his son was here, and he had a shot to be a father again, one meal at a time.
“You want to help me cook?”
Caleb nodded. “Yeah, okay.” As Micah picked up the knife and continued chopping, Caleb stood next to him.
“Okay, what do you already know how to cook?” Micah asked. He wanted to get a sense of Caleb’s skill level.
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “Sandwiches, frozen burritos, ramen?”
Level zero. Micah chuckled. “Okay. So, no cooking experience. No problem. I’ll walk you through it.”
“Uh, okay. What should I do?”
“Why don’t you season the pork chops—salt and pepper on each side.” Micah gestured toward the meat on a red plastic cutting board about a foot from where he was chopping vegetables.
“You’re just letting the meat sit out like this? It’s not that cold anymore,” Caleb observed, poking at the meat with a finger before reaching for the salt and pepper.
“Wash your hands first. And I left it out so that it won’t seize up when I put it in the pan. It’ll be more tender when I cook it at room temperature.”
Once Caleb finished washing his hands, he came back over, grabbed the salt grinder, and looked at the meat. Micah wiped his hands, then put his palm out for the salt grinder which Caleb handed over.
“Just a couple turns per piece,” Micah explained as he demonstrated. “Hold it up a little above the meat so it spreads evenly. Same for the pepper, then flip them with the red tongs and do the other side.”
Caleb had watched intently, nodding. Micah handed the salt to him and returned to his own cutting board where he started slicing onions to sauté the chops in.
For a few minutes, nothing but the sound of his chopping and Caleb’s grinding filled the space. The sounds brought Micah a quiet joy. He could stay in the kitchen, cooking with his son, indefinitely.
“So how did you learn to cook?” Caleb asked as he flipped the chops.
“Actually, your mom taught me,” Micah said as he reached beneath the counter to pull out a large pan.
Caleb nodded. “She’s a pretty good cook. She just works so much she doesn’t really have time to show me anything. And she’s usually pretty tired even on her days off.”
Micah nodded as he moved from Caleb’s left to the right side of him before placing the pan on the stove. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been trying to help out a little and do a few meals a week. Ready for the next step?”
Caleb nodded and turned to face Micah.
“You’re gonna want to turn the stove on—”
Caleb snorted. “Obvi.”
“Okay, smartass.” Micah laughed. “Turn it to medium heat.”
Caleb turned the knob on the stove and waited a few seconds, but no flame appeared under the pan. Micah turned the knob back to the off position.
“Not so easy, huh? It’s a gas stove. It works different.” Micah showed Caleb how let the burner ignite under the flame, then turned it back to the off position.
“Okay, now you try. Listen for that ticking sound, and just hold it in the position I did,” Micah said, switching places with Caleb so he was in front of the stove.
It took him two tries, and Micah ended up opening the window right above the kitchen sink to let the gas out, but Caleb finally got the stove working and the pan heated.
“Now we’re cooking with gas,” Micah said, ruffling Caleb’s hair. The kid groaned, but looked up at Micah with a smirk on his face.
“So cheesy.” He shook his head. “So, what’s next?”
***
It took Micah twice as long as it would have had he finished cooking the meal on his own, but about an hour later, he and Caleb sat down to a meal that they’d cooked together.
“What do you think?” Micah asked between bites of the pork chop. Caleb hadn’t done a half bad job. His piece was a touch overdone, but it was seasoned well.
“It’s pretty good. I think it would be cool to try different spices on the meat next time. I don’t know, maybe like lemon pepper,” Caleb said before cramming his mouth full of rice and vegetables.
Next time. Micah grinned, trying hard to contain his happiness. His son wanted to cook with him again!
“Yeah, I think lemon pepper could go well,” he said, trying to play it cool.
He had so many questions he wanted to ask. What kind of music he was into. If he had a girlfriend. He didn’t even know if Caleb was into sports. But every time he’d touched on those subjects, Caleb had been shifty, not offering too many details. He was clearly protective of his personal life.
Micah decided to stick to topics a little more close to home. He cleared his throat. “I know you spend quite a bit of time with your Grammy and PopPop. Do you ever see your other grandparents? My parents?”
Caleb swallowed, then set his fork down, running a fingertip along the handle. He shrugged. “Not really. I mean, a couple times a year. But I don’t know, when my mom takes me by for a visit, they don’t really seem…”
“Interested.” Micah finished his son’s sentence on a sigh. Micah couldn’t say he was surprised. They’d never been that interested in Caleb. They’d been more embarrassed that Micah had gotten Rhina pregnant at such a young age, and they’d told Micah he was on his own as far as supporting his girlfriend and child.
But once Caleb had been born, and Micah had held that tiny, fretting, scrap of humanity in his arms, he’d thought there was no way his parents wouldn’t fall in love with him instantly, the way Micah and Rhina had.
He’d been wrong. His parents had been as indifferent to their grandson as they had to Micah. They had pictures of his older brother’s three children around the house, but they hadn’t displayed the baby pictures he and Rhina had given them. After that, Micah didn’t want his son around them. But Rhina had insisted that Caleb know his grandparents and had made an effort to visit periodically, even after Micah had gone away.
“I’m sorry, Caleb.” Micah pushed his plate away, not very hungry anymore.
Caleb shrugged. “What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault they’re lame. Are you sure you aren’t adopted or something?” Caleb asked around mouthful of food.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Those people seem way too boring to be your parents,” Caleb declared, reaching for the dish of rice and raking the last of it onto his plate.
Micah huffed. “You know, kid. I wonder the same thing myself sometimes.”
“Hey, Dad, can you show me how to make lasagna next week?”
Micah’s jaw dropped briefly before he recovered.
“Yeah, son. I’d be happy to. That sounds great.” Micah couldn’t wait until next week. And he couldn’t wait to tell Adrien about the progress he’d made with Caleb.