Beautiful Boy

by Leddy Harper

  I couldn’t respond. Nothing came to me as I allowed her words to soak in. She had always told me those things, starting from a very young age, and I’d always tried to live up to them. But then my choices had been taken away from me, which led to the life I now had. A life so void of passion and love, her teachings seemed foreign.

  She should’ve understood that.

  I didn’t think I had to remind her.

  “When everything happened with that girl in high school, I didn’t know what to do. I was mortified for her, worried about you, and honestly, I was simply scared. The last thing I wanted was for her or her family to press charges against you and have to see you deal with those repercussions. I was horrified it had happened in my house, with my son, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. The decision to have you go into the Army wasn’t made lightly. But it was done with the intention of showing everyone involved we weren’t hiding you or letting you get off easy. We weren’t using our political power to make the situation go away. Clearly, we had no idea we’d go into war. No one did.”

  I shook my head and turned my attention to the table. Frustration bubbled up inside me at the inability to express myself to her. “I get that, Mom. I’m not upset with you. I just don’t understand how you can sit here and support me like this. Why would you be happy at the idea of me being with the girl who ruined my life, or with me taking up photography again? The one thing which had set all this into motion?”

  She snapped her fingers, forcing me to look at her once more. Her expression was hard, and I knew I was in for a motherly lecture. “That girl did not ruin your life. Shame on you for saying that.”

  Had I really said those words? I thought back and realized yes, I’d actually accused Novah of destroying me. I didn’t understand why I’d done that. I knew better. If anything, I’d ruined hers, not the other way around. And even that thought was ludicrous. I knew Novah…her life had not been destroyed—by me or anything else. She was strong and confident. Loving and supportive. Why had I said that?

  You’ve damaged her enough for one lifetime.

  She’s destroyed enough of your life.

  The voice rang loudly in my head, echoing until I couldn’t hear anything else. They hadn’t been my words, but the words of someone else. I hadn’t believed them when I heard them, and I didn’t believe them now. Somehow, I’d inadvertently allowed my father’s opinion to infiltrate me, get inside my mind, and disintegrate my own thoughts.

  My mother’s eyes softened and she tilted her head, gazing at me with sympathy and unbounded love. “Nolan, you have to stop this. Stop allowing what’s happened to you in your past affect your future. You can’t go back and change things. The only thing you can do is adapt. Like your leg. It couldn’t be reattached, so you got a new one. A sturdier one. Don’t try to rewrite history. It’ll only hurt you in the end. Adapt, son.”

  I couldn’t help but think back to Novah telling me those same words. I’d dismissed them at the time, too stubborn to see how right she was. But hearing them again, especially from my own mother, it did something to me. It changed me.

  “I think I lost her…” I mumbled, my voice too hoarse to produce strong enough words.

  “No such thing. I don’t presume to know her or your relationship…but I know you. And after what I’ve heard you say tonight, I can only imagine what it’s been like for her, because I’ve been there, too. Trying to save someone who isn’t ready for salvation can be exhausting. It’s excruciating to watch someone you love hate themselves so vehemently and you can’t do anything to stop it.”

  The muscle in my forehead grew taut as I stared at her, wondering what she meant by that. I’d never heard her talk this way before, and I could only assume she meant me.

  “You’re too focused on everything that has happened to you, and it makes it impossible to see the things happening around you. At some point, you have to stop reminding yourself of the mistake you made when you were eighteen, or that you had to grow up too fast overseas. You can’t keep staring at your leg, hoping it’ll grow back. Instead, you should be observing the life around you. You have so many people in your life who love you, but you refuse to let their love in.”

  “That’s not true.” I didn’t really have the right to argue with her, but I knew one thing. “I allowed her to love me. I allow you to love me. To say I refuse to be loved is simply not true.”

  She ran her fingers along the side of my head, through my hair like she used to do when I was young. It offered me comfort, even though I didn’t realize I needed it at the time.

  “Nolan…there’s a difference between letting those around you love you, and opening up to them, allowing them to be a part of your life. You can’t simply take their love and not give them reassurance in return. I’m sure she has her reasons for backing away, and if you allow yourself to, you’ll not only see them, but you’ll understand them as well.”

  My father took the stage and tapped on the microphone. The loud boom echoed and caught everyone’s attention. But my mom didn’t turn away from me.

  “I can see you’re in a better place now than you were six months ago when you left. Whatever she’s doing, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Don’t give up. And if she’s letting go, listen to her. Believe in her reason, because I’m sure it wasn’t an easy choice for her to make. I know I didn’t want you moving so far away, but you’d gotten to a point where I couldn’t do anything else for you. The therapists couldn’t do any more than what they’d already done. You’ve been given the tools, and I think maybe it’s time you learn to walk on your own.”

  I wanted to ask what she meant, but my dad began his speech. It was just like him to interrupt my mom while we were in the middle of a deep discussion. But I couldn’t do anything about it except sit back and listen as he made himself sound amazing while blowing smoke up everyone’s asses.

  “Before I begin, I would like to thank my amazing family for being here and supporting me. My wife, Donna, has been by my side cheering me on ever since the first day I met her. And I wouldn’t have been able to have half the successes I’ve been granted without her.” He winked in her direction, and I could practically feel my mother swoon next to me.

  My relationship with my father might’ve been strained, but he and my mom had a solid foundation, and I only wished I could have the same thing one day.

  “My son, Nolan, who’s sitting beside my beautiful wife, has overcome a lot in his life. And him being here means the world to me, showing his support, much like he has his entire life.”

  I became torn between my emotions. On one hand, hearing him say something like that about me tugged at my heartstrings. It wasn’t often I earned a compliment from him. But on the other hand, I couldn’t help the nagging voice in my head telling me he’d said it because he’s in front of a roomful of people, and it was more out of necessity than love.

  Then he continued.

  “I’m sure most of you know, though some may have forgotten, Nolan fought for our country in the War on Terror. He was deployed to Afghanistan and then to Iraq, in which he came home a wounded war hero after losing his leg in an IED explosion.”

  My face burned hot with the amount of rage coursing through my veins. My hands shook in my lap and my leg began to bounce beneath the table. The ringing in my ears—which I’m sure was from a spike in blood pressure—almost drowned out the audible gasp from my mother beside me.

  “But he never let that get him down. He came home, fought hard to get back up, and now he owns and operates a very successful security company. Even at home, he serves and protects the citizens in his community, and I couldn’t be more proud of him.”

  I stopped listening. I couldn’t handle any more of his outright fabrications. He’d somehow twisted my entire life to suit him, to make him look better.

  Such a fucking politician thing to do.

  It had only been days ago when he sat me down and belittled my job, calling me nothing but an administrator,
yet now he paints it as this important job. Serve and protect the citizens of my community? I catch thieves and shoplifters at retail stores. The same job he’d recently tried to convince me to leave because of its unimportance.

  What about all the times I’d overheard him talk to my mom about my recovery? He never hid his irritation from me over the fact I hadn’t bounced back as fast as he’d like. So why stand up there and say he’s proud of how hard I fought to regain my life again?

  I hadn’t regained shit in his eyes.

  My life was in shambles, yet he made me out to be some pillar of the community. Some upstanding guy who overcame adversity.

  Not to mention, what right did he have to speak openly about my personal tragedies? Who was he to air my story to a roomful of strangers?

  I wanted to get up and walk out, but my mother’s hand on my arm kept me in my seat. Her glistening eyes prevented my backlash from escaping. Sympathy was written all over her face, and I could tell she had nothing to do with his speech.

  “Let me handle it,” she whispered, and I couldn’t do anything other than offer a slight and strained nod. “At least wait for him to finish before leaving.”

  “Why do you care?” My words gritted out through clenched teeth, sounding hoarse and angry even to my own ears.

  “Because if you interrupt him, it’ll only bring the storm to your front door. If you want to walk away, I’ll support you. But I don’t think you should go before speaking your mind. You deserve to get this off your chest instead of taking it home with you.”

  “You know I can’t talk to him here.”

  “Talking to him doesn’t have to be an argument, Nolan. You can calmly express yourself away from prying ears in a mature fashion, and then leave.”

  I thought about it, but once again, panic struck me deep. I’d longed to escape my father so many times. Growing up, I couldn’t wait to get out of his grasp, out from under his control, but it didn’t happen the way I’d planned. And in the end, I found myself back under his roof, back at his feet. And when I finally found the courage to leave again, to truly get away, I’d inadvertently lost my relationship with my mother in the process.

  “He doesn’t deserve to be in my life, but I don’t want to cut you out, too. If I tell him—even calmly or in a mature fashion—it won’t be kind, and it will more than likely sever my ties with him. So how do I do that without losing you?”

  She ignored the tear falling to her chin and grabbed my hand. “I don’t think you have to cut ties with your father. He’s the type of man who needs to be stood up to. If you don’t assert yourself, he will blindly walk all over you. He’s in politics—it’s how they operate. Standing up to him won’t push him away; it’ll more than likely bring him closer, make him understand and respect you more. But you can’t go off like a loose cannon.”

  I sat at the table with my hand in my mom’s and waited for his speech to conclude. I didn’t bother listening to the rest of it. Instead, I stared at the condensation rolling off my glass of water and contemplated what I’d say to my father. I had so many years of anger built up, but my mom was right. I couldn’t come at him looking for a fight. So I took advantage of the time and organized my thoughts.

  Finally, his speech ended. But then he made his rounds, shaking hands and making small talk with the guests. I didn’t want to keep waiting around, and eventually I grew tired of it. I knew I needed to talk to him, and I also understood this was his night, but the longer I stayed, the worse I felt, and I knew I had to leave before my carefully planned words went up in smoke.

  I kissed my mom’s cheek and ignored the sadness in her eyes before heading toward the front. Luckily, I was the only one out there aside from the valet, so I didn’t have to wait in line to get my car.

  After the attendant left to pull my car around, I heard heavy stomping on the concrete behind me. “What do you think you’re doing walking out like this? Do you have any idea how that looks?”

  I turned around, catching the ruddy color on my father’s cheeks. I didn’t even need to see his expression. His tone made it abundantly clear just how pissed off he was.

  I took a deep breath, needing something to calm me before my own anger rose to the surface. “Dinner is over. Your speech is over. I didn’t see any reason to stick around longer. I have a two-hour drive home and work tomorrow.”

  “One night…it’s all I asked of you. One night to support me. To show your support for me. And what do you do? You keep to yourself most of the night, refuse to speak at dinner, and now I have to leave my own party to chase you down because you decided to leave without saying anything to me.”

  I took a step closer to him, squaring my shoulders. We were the same height, but my build was bigger than his, and this was the first time I’d ever positioned myself this way in front of him to notice. But I had to admit…it felt damn good.

  “I have supported you my entire life,” I said, keeping my tone even yet low. I made sure my words were carefully spoken so they could not be misconstrued as an argument. “I do not need to be here to support you.”

  He rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, I spoke again, making sure my brisk tone conveyed I would not be walked over. Not this time. Not ever again.

  “And don’t tell me you only asked for one night. You know as well as I do this was just the first of many nights—you’ve already eluded more would follow. But I’ll go ahead and tell you now so there won’t be any confusion later…this is the last time. I won’t be attending any future events.”

  He narrowed his eyes on me as the vein in his temple bulged with pressure. “After everything I’ve done for you…this is how you repay me? I need you at my side, to show a unified front, and you’re refusing to do so?”

  “All you’ve done for me?” I wanted to say so much more, point out just how much he’d “done for me,” but I kept it in. I knew if I let my anger out, there would be no controlling the full extent of my rage.

  “Doctors, therapists, and the long lists of bills that come along with those visits. I got you the best prosthetic available. You came and lived in my house for over ten years, and I never asked you for a cent.” He stood with his nose inches away from mine, seething in anger as he pointed out everything he’d done over the last eleven years.

  “And I’ve thanked you for it all. I’ve offered to pay you back, but you refused it. Why was that? Because if I had, you wouldn’t be able to hold it over my head anymore? Because you wouldn’t be able to use it to manipulate me?”

  He took a step back, confusion and anger warring in his expression between his tight lips and set jaw, his flaring nostrils and pinched eyebrows.

  “You said you wanted my support and you have it. You’ve always had it and you always will. I don’t need to make a banner or scream it from Times Square. I don’t even have to be at your side to support you. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. All I’ve wanted my whole life was for you to support me.”

  “And I have.”

  My voice broke as I gave in to the waves of emotion threatening to take me down and steal every last breath. “No. You paid doctors to take care of me after I had my leg blown off in a war I only fought in because you sent me off to the Army. You think that’s supporting me? You’re my father!”

  He stepped closer to keep our altercation quiet. “There are lots of men in this world who don’t take care of their sons, so don’t even try to use that as an excuse. I didn’t have to do any of it for you.”

  “No, you didn’t have to.” I shrugged, unsure of what else to say—if there was anything else to say. “Supporting someone doesn’t always have to be about how much money you spend or how long you let me live in your house. It’s not even about getting dressed up and playing nice with a bunch of strangers.”

  “Enlighten me, son…what does it mean to support someone?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I had so much to say—mainly about his speech inside—but his rigid postur
e and clenched fists made it obvious he had no plans to even listen to me. Nothing I had to say would’ve done any good; it would’ve only been a waste of breath.

  The valet attendant came back with my car pulled to the curb. I nodded his way to let him know I was ready, and then I glanced back at my dad one last time.

  “Fathers are supposed to be real-life superheroes…” I took a step toward the curb, but I stopped when he spoke up, louder than before to catch my attention.

  “Are you saying I’m the villain?”

  I shook my head, and without a backward glance, I called out over my shoulder, “No…you’re just not the hero.”

  And then I got in my car and drove off without once looking his way. My mom had been right—I needed to stand up for myself. It might not have done any good where he was concerned, but at least I didn’t have to worry about carrying the weight of it with me any longer.

  My conscious was clear.

  My chest was lighter.

  If he chose to keep that torch lit, it was his prerogative. But at least I didn’t have to worry about my life turning into ashes anymore.

  I’d been burned enough.

  And I had the scars to prove it.

  Twenty-Two

  I sat in my living room with my computer in front of me. The television playing in the background offered enough noise to keep me company, but not enough to distract me. I already had enough distractions in my head as it was.

  Two days without Nolan was brutal. And it wasn’t even the not seeing him part that gutted me the most—I was used to going days without being around him. It was the lack of his voice that cut me the deepest. No nightly phone calls or texts during the middle of the day.

  And I had no one to blame but myself.

  I was the one who told him he needed to figure things out without using me as a crutch, which he did, but it didn’t mean his absence in my life came easy. When I told him he needed to do this on his own, I only meant I couldn’t hold his hand. Not that I couldn’t be around.