Learning to Live Again
Page 19
“Not the fast food chain.”
“Why don’t we meet someplace so we can talk? Maybe we could sort out these hard feelings you have about your mom.” Sam saw the questions on Margie’s brow. She was probably wondering where he was going with this. He shrugged his shoulders. He was playing it by ear. Just keep the boy talking. “At least give me a chance. I kind of thought you and I were pretty good friends. How about it, Peter? You know, for old times sake.” Old times sake? Sam couldn’t believe he’d said that. Peter would know he was … what? Being a parent? Desperately searching for anything to convince the kid to talk? Peter could think that, because it was the absolute truth. Sam would say and do anything.
“Old times sake?” Peter said something to Joe, but Sam couldn’t hear. “Where are you going to live?”
“With Mom for a while. Mom and Brownie are getting married and I don’t know where they’re going to live. If Mom wants to sell her place I may buy it or something else in the area. Why?”
“Nothing. Just wondered.”
“How about it? Will you meet me somewhere? I won’t force you to come home. I won’t even tell anyone I’m meeting you. Just between you and me.”
“You’re at Mom’s right now, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. What’s your point? She can’t hear your side of this conversation. You tell me where to meet you and that’s as far as it goes. Why would I force you to come home? You could always leave again. I know that.”
“I’ll meet you at Walmart. In Keene where we left the truck. I’ll wait in front. We can talk in your car,” Peter said. “When?”
“I’ll leave right now. See you in about an hour and a half.”
******
Sam saw the skinny kid standing in front, leaning against the wall beside the entrance door. His hair needed a cut, his shoes were untied or the laces were broken, the legs of his jeans were ragged where the hem should have been. Didn’t he just see this kid last week? He’d only run away two days ago. What would he look like in a month?
Sam stopped in front of the store and honked. Peter looked up, pushed himself away from the wall with his foot and walked to the car. Sam opened the door from inside and Peter got in. Sam drove to the far end of the parking lot, angled in between two white lines and put the gear in park. “You look like hell, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said.
“You know,” Peter sniffed, looked up at the car lining with eyelids batting like butterfly wings, “I made up a story in my head—you were my real dad.” Moving his head he looked at Sam with an eyebrow raised, watchful of Sam’s reaction. Puddles formed in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He swiped at his face.
“It occurred to me …” Peter pulled his lips into his mouth and clamped down before he continued, “I might be doing my real dad an injustice wanting you to be him.” Peter’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Maybe, I thought, he was a hero or something really great.”
Sam bent his leg and pulled it up on the seat so he could face the boy. He grabbed Peter by the shoulders and pulling him forward, wrapped his arms around him and hugged him to his chest. “Maybe he is a hero. You don’t know.”
“He’s a bum, Sam. I saw him.” Peter raised his face from Sam’s chest. “He has no front teeth, almost bald, unshaven. How could my mother sleep with him?”
“She was fifteen, a year older than you are, but unlike you, he was the only person in her world saying ‘I love you.’ He was the only person in her world telling her she was special. He was all she had,” Sam told him.
Sam cupped Peter’s chin, brushed a tear from his cheek with a thumb. “You and me—we can’t even imagine. Love everywhere. Parent or parents, neighbors, teachers—everyone we care about cares about us. Your mom didn’t have that, Peter. No matter how hard we try, we can’t imagine.”
“I ain’t all that popular. But I know what you’re saying,” Peter admitted. “I know Mom loves me. More than I deserve.” Peter’s lips quivered.
“We all deserve our mother’s love, Peter. It’s a God-given right. Not earnable, but a right of passage.” Sam smiled a grim line. “You’re playing the feeling sorry for myself tape. Don’t play it to me. I produced it and I can tell you it’s a piece of shit.”
“I’m just angry he’s my father. Like I deserve better, huh?” Peter looked up at Sam, a half smile playing on his lips.
Sam shrugged, slid a hand over the top of Peter’s head, messing up his hair. “I think you’d make a fine son, Peter. I don’t know that I’m a better person than your real dad, but if you and he are willing, I’d be mighty proud to adopt you and make you my son.”
Peter hugged as tight as he was able, buried his face in Sam’s chest.
“You owe your mom an apology. You realize that, I hope.”
“I know,” came the muffled reply. “Are you going to marry my mom?”
“Yes, if she’ll have me.”
“Can I call you Dad?”
“You bet,” Sam said amazed. Was this going as well as it seemed? Was Peter coming home? “So, you ready to come home?” He asked then held his breath.
“Yeah. My stuff’s inside the Walmart entrance door. The greeter is keeping an eye on it for me. I told her I was a runaway and my dad was coming to pick me up.”
“Joe talk some sense into you?”
“Yeah.”
THE END