by J. M. Colail
John sat on the couch and let his head fall back. His eyes closed, but he still threw his arm over his face as if to shield him from the light. We don’t need this now when things have been going so well. He wanted to leave it, not mention the phone call and take the pressure off David, but John remembered the look on Adam’s face and the desperate tone in his voice. He’s a teenage boy who wants to talk to his dad. Thoughts about his own dad crept into the debate. He loved his granddad, but many times over the years he’d wondered not only what his dad was like, but perhaps more importantly, what he would think of the adult John. Would he be proud of how his son had turned out? There had been times in John’s life when that question was vehemently denied but lurked in his thoughts nevertheless.
Not tonight, he decided. Deal with it tomorrow. He hauled himself off the couch, flicked the light switch, and walked into the bedroom. David was lying on his side so John couldn’t make out if he was asleep. The room was silent. He quietly undressed and climbed into the bed, where he lay looking at David’s back. As his breathing slowed and muscles began to settle against the mattress he heard the softly spoken question. “Did he talk to you, John?”
John’s chest tightened, although he knew the only way to deal with this was honesty. “Yeah. He’s very confused, Dave, but he wants to talk to you.”
David didn’t answer.
John shuffled closer and rested his chin lightly over David’s shoulder so that his cheek rested against David’s jawline. He took a small breath and said, “I gave him my cell phone number and he called me tonight.” John could feel David tense and was tempted to pull David back against his chest, but reached up instead and ran his hand over the curve of David’s shoulder; slow, soothing strokes.
David was torn between the need to know about his son and the desperate panic of Adam knowing what he’d become. “I can’t do this, John,” he whispered.
“He doesn’t know where you are.” John sighed, kissed the side of David’s neck, and rested his forehead against his hair. “I told him I’d talk to you…. I told him you might not be ready to talk yet.”
David’s breathing became uneven and John knew he was struggling, but he also knew that he needed to continue. “He asked if I’d talk to him. Can I do that?”
No answer came except a shuddering breath.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me now,” John whispered, his lips making gentle contact with the man in front of him. David nodded and reached up for John’s hand, pulling it around his chest. John wrapped him tightly against his body, pressed another kiss to his skin, and murmured, “I love you so fucking much.”
“FUCK!” JAMIE said a little too loudly.
John quickly shot him a withering looking and growled, “Keep your voice down, Jamie. I’ve warned you about that before.”
Jamie glanced to the back of the store and held his hand up in way of apology. “So did Adam talk to him? Did David talk to Adam?” he asked at a more reasonable volume.
John shook his head and said sadly, “No, David panicked. I didn’t understand what was happening until it was too late and he took off.”
“Shit,” Jamie said softly and leaned back against the counter. “Poor Dave. It must have scared the hell out him.”
John’s stance softened; Jamie understood. “Yeah, I haven’t got much out of him about it.” John glanced up to the back of the store where he could hear the faint shuffle of books as David reorganized the shelves. He sighed and said very quietly, “Adam wants to talk to him.”
Jamie followed John’s eyes and frowned. With a sad shake of his head he mumbled more to himself than John, “He’s not ready.”
“I know, Jamie,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache threatening behind his eyes. “It’s so fucking hard because Adam’s hurting too. I talked to him on the phone; he asked me to meet him.”
“It’s a funny thing, John,” Jamie said softly. “I’ve worried and looked out for David for so long that it’s almost hard for me to consider how Adam must be feeling. Except, I know I’d hate to not have David in my life now.”
John looked up at Jamie and nodded with a quiet “Yeah.” But in the back of his mind lurked the long repressed thought, but I’ve been on the other side too.
“Did you tell David?” Jamie asked.
John exhaled a long breath before saying, “I asked if it was all right; he hasn’t given an answer yet.”
“He will,” Jamie said with a surety that almost made John smile. John admitted, “To be honest, I was tempted to just go ahead and do it without telling him….” John saw that Jamie was about to interrupt and held up his hand. “Don’t worry. It was a fleeting thought. Just frustration, not one I’d act on.”
“Trust is a hard thing to earn,” Jamie said with a wisdom that would have surprised anyone who didn’t know him well. “Especially with someone who’s been through so much.”
This time John did smile and gently ran his hand over Jamie’s messy hair.
OXFORD DICTIONARY, Webster’s Dictionary, Dictionary of Famous Quotes…. The reference collection was solid and tangible; real. Something David could move around and hold onto. Each time his mind strayed back to the café courtyard or the conversation with John, he lifted another book and reorganized another shelf.
“You’ve done a lot,” John said quietly and placed a coffee mug on newly wiped shelving.
David stopped what he was doing and looked at the mug. He noticed it was one of the usual publisher’s mugs with green and blue script. The writing blurs a little in the sweep of the “T” as if the transfer slipped during printing. Not perfect, so maybe the hairline crack doesn’t matter…. It might be all right that the letter is broken….
“Drink your tea, Dave,” John pushed softly.
David lifted the hot mug to his lips, but didn’t drink. It hovered close while he whispered, “Please don’t tell him what I did, John.”
John blinked at the words. Is that permission? He stood and watched as David sipped the coffee, his hands clenched a little too tightly around the steaming mug. He carefully put his fingers through the handle and eased the mug away to place it on a nearby shelf. “I won’t tell him anything you don’t want me to,” John said gently and wrapped David’s hands in his own.
David stared at their joined hands and nodded, thankful of the contact to steady and ground him. They stood quietly until John dipped his head in an attempt to catch David’s gaze and asked, “You sure you want me to do this?”
A frown twitched across David’s brow and his lips tightened, but he nodded slowly and looked up. “Not sure about anything right now,” he said, “but he needs this.”
I think you both do, passed through John’s thoughts.
JOHN FOUND the number on his cell and waited until he heard a teenage voice on the other end. “What did he say?”
“Straight to the point, eh?” John chuckled nervously.
“Sorry… sorry, John,” Adam apologized. “It’s just when I saw your name, well….”
“It’s okay, lad,” John said quietly. “I understand.” He took a breath and started. “I spoke to Dave… your dad. He’s not ready yet, Adam… but you and I can have a talk.”
There was silence on the other end for quite a while, but John knew there was nothing wrong with the line. Finally Adam asked, “This afternoon okay?”
John glanced up at the clock and said, “That would be good. Just tell me when and where.”
Adam gave John the address of a café near his school and suggested they meet in an hour.
After John said his good-byes he heard a quiet voice behind him. “Is he okay?”
John took a moment to compose himself before he turned around. One look at David’s body language said it all. Better than you are right now, Dave. “He’s disappointed, but he’ll be all right,” John said and then took the few steps to David and smiled. “I think he’s skiving off school to meet me though.”
David t
ried to smile, but his face contorted as he fought the tears that began a trail down his cheeks. John quickly pulled him close and whispered, “We’ll forgive him one missed class though.”
Chapter 25
JOHN LOOKED at the menu board in the café. What the fuck do teenagers drink? He ordered himself a tea and sat down to wait for Adam. His fingers fiddled with the small salt shaker as he watched the fine grains shift within the glass confines. Several times he glanced up when customers came and went; he couldn’t begin to imagine how David must be feeling. He’d been quiet since they’d talked, barely said half a dozen words. David had politely refused his half of the sandwich and gently fended off Jamie’s chatter, but at least he hadn’t retired to his chair. That had to be a good sign, an improvement, John thought, remembering the compulsive sketching and “hiding” in the battered leather chair.
His thoughts were interrupted when the waitress slid his cup of tea onto the table. “There you go,” she smiled, recognizing his worried expression. “I put a couple of cookies on the saucer for you.”
“Thank you,” John answered and then frowned. “Actually, can I order a juice, too, please?”
IT HAD been easy enough to sneak out of his study period, grab his bag from his locker, and duck out through the side gate of the school. He’d asked his friends to cover for him if anyone looked for him, but rather than telling them where he was going he let them believe it was to meet a girl. They’d laughed at his agitation when he checked the time on his phone yet again until he could make his escape to whispered jibes and suggestions of how to “get some”.
It was a relief to be away from his friends and finally walking toward the café. Watching his feet move rapidly over the cracked sidewalk, Adam wondered how he would cope if it was his dad meeting him instead of John. He pushed the thought out of his head, shoved his hands in his pockets, and set up a determined stride.
John was munching absently on one of the cookies when he saw the teenage boy walk through the door. Ignoring the nervous twist in his gut, John stood up and beckoned him over to the table. Adam gave a half-smile and sat down, pushing his school bag under his seat. “Thanks for talking to him for me, John,” he said, trying very hard to sound adult.
John nodded and said, “I’m in a difficult situation here, Adam. I feel like I need to look out for David, but I can also understand why you need some contact with him.”
“I just…,” Adam started and then stopped to take a breath. “I want to know why he left us. Why he….” The question remained unfinished when the words simply wouldn’t come. Adam quickly looked away from John and down to his hands.
“I can’t answer that, Adam,” John said sadly, wishing he had more to offer the boy. “All I know is that he was living between the street and a homeless shelter when I met him.”
Adam stared at him with obvious confusion. “But my mum said he left us for another family.”
“I don’t think that’s right,” John said quickly, puzzled why Adam’s mother would lie to him. “David won’t really talk about any of it, but now and then he lets slip some information and I’m pretty sure he was alone when he left. He said he was confused and didn’t know what was happening at the start.”
John watched Adam as he spoke and the boy seemed to be struggling to sort through his recollections of his dad during their last days together.
“He wasn’t too good before he left,” Adam said, softly looking at the glass of juice in front of him.
“In what way?” John gently pushed.
“Dad always worked really hard. I mean, really hard, and I know he hated being away from me so much. I remember waking up one night and he was asleep in the chair in my room. I’d gone to sleep so angry with him because he’d had a meeting or something and missed… shit, I dunno, some school thing.” Adam looked up at John to apologize for cursing, but John merely nodded for him to go on. “Anyway, he didn’t get up one morning. I heard Mum yelling at him and she slammed the bedroom door. When I got home from school the door was still shut… and the next day too. I wanted to see how he was, but Mum told me he was sick and to leave him alone.” He stopped and hesitated for several seconds to get it all straight in his head before he added, “I listened at the door, John… and I think I heard him crying.”
The image of David hiding alone in his room crying made John’s chest ache and the emotion played on his face for barely a second before he managed to suppress it, but it was long enough for Adam to see. “I didn’t go in to see him and I think maybe I should have,” he said quietly.
“You were young, Adam, and he was your dad,” John said gently. “It’s a bloody tough lesson to learn that your dad isn’t perfect. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” He leaned forward and patted Adam on the shoulder, knowing exactly how he must be feeling.
“He had some kind of breakdown, didn’t he, John?”
“I think so,” John answered. “He’s a bit better now, but he still has his bad days.”
“That’s why he left,” Adam stated, confirming it to himself more than John. “I hated him for leaving us, leaving me without saying anything. For not caring enough to stick around. There were so many times I wanted to yell at him, and other times I just… I guess I wanted him to talk to. But he was never there.”
“It hurt him not to be part of your life, Adam,” John murmured. “But he was around. He went through a lot just to see you.”
Adam frowned. “What do you mean? I never saw him after he left; not until the day at the art gallery.”
John took a breath and thought through the best way to word this without giving away too much information. He started slowly and said, “David always made sure you were okay, Adam. He rarely had money, but the little he did have he spent on buses to see you; he’s been around even though you didn’t see him.”
Adam shook his head and was about to argue when he stopped and paled. He stared at John as an unwelcome realization dawned. “The bus shelter near school; sometimes the kids used to joke about the old bum in there….” His voice trailed off and he quickly turned to look out the nearest window.
“It’s okay, Adam,” John whispered. “You didn’t know because he didn’t want you to know.”
Adam blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears away. He kept his face turned toward the window as he said with a slight break in his voice, “They gave him a hard time, John.”
John leaned forward, laid a hand on Adam’s arm again, and said, “I did too, Adam; at the start.”
“Fuck.” Adam cursed half under his breath and angrily wiped away a stray tear with the back of his hand. John took a sip of his tea and let Adam have some privacy. He smiled and nodded at the watchful waitress to reassure her that things were okay.
Eventually Adam sucked in a shaky breath and turned to face John. “Can I ask when you met him?”
“Not that long ago, actually. Just the middle of the year,” John answered, a little surprised that it had been such a short time. “He… was a regular at a store I took over.”
Adam looked at him and frowned until John explained. “It was cold and the previous owner had let him read the secondhand books at the back of the store to stay out of the weather. It took her a while to convince him it was okay, but she was pretty persuasive.”
When Adam merely replied with a small nod John felt the need to expand on the explanation. “He had an old leather chair among the books at the back. It’s still there actually, and he used to spend his days sitting reading.”
“Dad enjoyed reading,” Adam confirmed with the slightest hint of a smile.
John returned the smile and added, “It was good for him to disappear into a book; he needed that.” He paused and took a sip of his tea, not really wanting to admit what came next, but knew Adam needed to know the truth. “When I leased the store I didn’t want him around,” John said in an embarrassed and somewhat ashamed tone. “I thought he might scare the customers because he was a mess and smelled pretty bad. But I got to
know him and ah, offered him somewhere to clean up.” Seeing the miserable expression on Adam’s face, John quickly said, “He’s getting better, Adam… even if he still doesn’t say much.”
Adam took a few minutes to process the information and sat back in his seat, eyes following the condensation forming on his glass of orange juice. A lot of questions vied for attention in his thoughts; some he wasn’t sure he wanted to be answered. Finally he looked up with a sigh and asked, “But he knows you’re here with me?”
“Yeah, he does,” John said softly. “Please understand that even this is a huge step for him, Adam. Even you talking to me has him terrified.”
“Why? Why is he scared of me?” Adam scowled in confusion and John instantly tried to pacify him.
“I really don’t think that’s it. I think he’s afraid of what you might say. No, that’s not it. He’s ashamed, Adam. Ashamed of leaving you, ashamed of how he’s had to survive….” John shook his head, knowing he couldn’t follow that path with David’s son, and said instead, “Your dad never stopped loving you, Adam.”
A tear made its way down Adam’s cheek. “Will he ever talk to me, John?”
“I think so,” John said with some confidence, because after meeting Adam he honestly believed it could happen.
Adam sat forward and took his first mouthful of juice and asked, “Can we talk again?”
“Yeah,” John replied with a grin. “We can do that.”
BY THE time John parked his car, the store was already closed, yet he still peered through the front door to check it was empty. John briefly looked up at the front windows of the apartment. No sign of life. He walked to the doorway.
The living room was quiet; still no sign of David. He stood and listened. Somehow he knew David was around. At the barest sound of water moving, John turned to the bathroom and tapped lightly on the door before trying the knob. It was unlocked.