by Jay McLean
“But I’m Thomas Joshua,” he says, beaming up at me. “Ma’am loves me. She’ll remember.”
I look over at Becs, her eyes as sad as I feel, and after a moment, she sits down on the couch next to her dad. She types something on her phone and he reads it, his eyes moving from side to side. Then he sighs, wraps an arm around her and brings her into him, kisses her forehead, making it impossible for me to dislike him as much as I had been.
The room fills with silence again, only for a few minutes before a nurse comes in, her eyes lighting up when she sees everybody in the room. “Young Chazarae must be very popular,” she sings. It shouldn’t annoy me that she’s so happy, so immune to what’s happening, but it does. “I just spoke to Dr. Richards. I have some good news and some bad news. Which would you like first?”
“This isn’t a game,” I mumble.
“Josh,” Kim says, placing her hand on my shoulder. I’m getting real fucking tired of the way people say my name like I don’t have a right to speak.
The nurse sits on the end of Chaz’s bed, completely clueless to my reaction. “The good news is Chazarae can go home today.”
“That’s great,” I say, at the same time Becca stands and moves toward me. “So what’s the bad?”
“The bad news is that her body’s taken quite a beating. She’ll need some help moving around. She’ll be able to walk, but not for extended periods of time, and she might need a wheelchair long term. She’ll need rails in the bathroom, little visuals around the house that remind her of her routine, signs on walls, things like that. Stairs might be a problem, too, so I don’t know what her house is like—”
“I’ll take care of it. Give me a couple hours.” I stand quickly and turn for the door, but Becca stops me. She types on her phone before showing it to me. Do you need any help?
I shake my head and point to Rob who’s already saying goodbye to Kim. “I got it,” I tell Becca. “Can you stay here until she wakes up and bring her home when she’s ready. Just um…” I take a calming breath. “Just please make sure she knows I’m at home waiting for her, okay?”
* * *
Rob and I get measurements and create a list of supplies we need to build the ramp on the porch before he goes to the lumber yard and I start working on things in the house. Once my dad got too sick to walk, we had to convert the downstairs office at my parents’ house to a bedroom. Chaz doesn’t have any rooms on the first floor, so I make quick work of disassembling her bed upstairs to convert her living room into her bedroom until I can come up with a better plan or maybe make provisions for an extension.
I hear a car pull up in the driveway, and I look out the window to see Martin stepping out of Chaz’s car. No Becca. I continue to watch as he leans against the hood and pulls out his phone. He taps a few buttons then holds it to his ear. A second later he’s talking, lips moving, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I give up trying and head back downstairs to start moving the furniture to make room for the bed. I try to push him out of my mind while I drag the couches in all directions, attempting to find the perfect position. But he’s there, every interaction, every word spoken, every glare made my direction, he’s there… until my mind gets lost in the hurricane of his anger and hate toward me and before I know it, I’m stepping out of the house and walking over to him.
He says, “I’ll call you back,” when he sees me and hangs up the phone. “What do you want?”
“Will you at least tell me what your problem with me is?”
He laughs once—this arrogant, cocky laugh that has me balling my fists. I forget for a moment who he is, as well as the fact that he’s a fucking Goliath who could take me down in a single punch. “My problem with you is that my daughter contacts me, tells me her grandmother is sick, and that I need to come here. So I do. And what do I see? I see her in your apartment, practically naked, playing house as if nothing’s changed between you two. Do you enjoy taking advantage of emotional girls, Josh? Is that your game?”
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Oh, I’m dead serious. Every fucking time you show up in her life this shit happens, and guess who has to pick up the pieces?”
I shake my head, my eyes wide in disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say to you. I know I’ve hurt Becca in the past but—”
“And you’ll continue to hurt her, because you can’t seem to leave her alone!”
I start to walk away, because I can feel the anger rising, feel it burning a hole in my chest.
“What’s your plan with her, anyway, Warden?”
I spin quickly. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re going to go off and skate around the world, different places, different girls, throwing around your money like it’s nothing…” He steps closer, towering over me. “All while she’s in college, going to classes, pining over the boy who once loved her?”
“That’s not what this is, and what you think I do, isn’t who I am.” The anger doubles, boils, bursts. “You don’t know fuck-all about me!”
He fists my shirt, pulling me to him until I’m on my toes. His breath is harsh against my skin. Through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, he fumes, “You’re a punk who knocked up a girl when you were sixteen! And now you’re going to do the same with Becca and ruin everything she’s worked for! I’ve been in your shoes. I’ve made the same mistakes. You think I don’t know you, Warden? I was you!”
I grasp his wrists, trying to get him off of me, but he won’t budge. “Don’t you dare bring my son into this.”
His fists tighten, but he doesn’t speak.
“You and me—we’re nothing alike.” The anger’s gone now, replaced with bottled rage. “Because I’d never, ever, call my son a mistake.”
Rob returns in my truck, the tires screeching as he comes to a stop. “Get your fucking hands off him!” he yells, running toward us.
I straighten my T-shirt when Martin releases me and keep my eyes on his. “You want to come into her life and man up eighteen years too late, then good for you. But don’t ever compare us again. Because I was there for my son through sleepless nights, and colic and teething and every bad thing imaginable. And I’d never let anyone or anything hurt him.” I try to breathe through the agony, the burn, and take a calming breath so I can think. “Where the fuck were you all those times her mother abused her? Beat her to within an inch of her life? Where were you when she was crying, her nightmares a fucking reality? She wasn’t the mistake. You were!”
* * *
Luckily, Martin leaves, giving me time to calm down. I can sense Robby watching me, wanting to ask questions he knows I won’t answer, so instead, we focus on building the stupid ramp on the porch and moving the bed downstairs. As soon as we’re done, Rob gets a call from Kim telling him they’re on the way.
We wait for them outside, the tension between us building. “Don’t you dare say a word to Becca about what you saw,” I tell him.
“So I assume you will.”
“She’s going through enough, Rob. Please don’t make this harder for her.”
* * *
We settle Chaz in her new space while she tries to smile and nod through everything, but she’s annoyed. Frustrated. I can tell. Six people surrounding her, all fussing over her? I would be, too.
Martin returns, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, and a moment later, a nurse I’ve never met before shows up. This one’s here to make sure Chazarae has everything she needs at home, not just physically, but mentally as well. After making sure Becca and I understand what medications Chaz needs to take and when, she leaves, satisfied, with a promise to check in tomorrow. And as much as I love Chaz, as much as I want to be with her, it’s just too damn much with Martin around.
“Are you guys all right for food?” I ask Becca, standing just outside their door. “You need me to go to the store?”
She shakes her head as she pulls on my shirt, wanting me closer. Over her shoulder, Martin stands with his a
rms crossed and I fight the urge to scream, to shout, to run like a baby and tell Becca everything he said and the way he treated me. Instead, I kiss her forehead and ignore the disappointment in her eyes when I tell her I’ll see her in the morning.
I take Tommy’s hand and lead him to the apartment where we pretend like everything is good and fine in the world, and that one of the most important people in our lives isn’t a few feet away surrounded by people she doesn’t know, lost in a mind that’s no longer hers.
Mom comes by with food, and we all sit at the table continuing to pretend.
“Eat your broccoli, Tommy.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
I don’t know if he actually does because I’m not looking at him. I’m staring down at my plate, my fork prodding my own broccoli.
“Remember when you used to call them little trees last time, Daddy?” Tommy asks.
I look up at him, my eyes tired. “Yeah.”
“Why would I like to eat trees?”
I smile. I can’t help it. Then I lean forward and push my plate aside, glancing at Mom quickly. “When I was little like you, I didn’t eat my vegetables, either. So your Pa—he used to sit with me at the table until I’d eaten every single one on the plate.” I point to Mom. “Nanni—she used to tell him to just let me go, that it was past my bedtime, but he wouldn’t. And then one day, he came up with this idea to make up an entire land made of vegetables.”
“And did you?” Tommy practically shouts.
“We did. We stayed up and made broccoli trees and carrot stick logs and a pea sea.”
“Pee sea!” He cackles with laughter. “And then what happened, Daddy?”
Mom giggles.
“And then…” I say, my eyes wide. “He said I was a T-Rex and T-Rexes destroy land. And so I opened my mouth wide, and I ate everything on that plate!”
Tommy laughs, loud and free, and I watch, letting the sound of his joy overpower the misery of the past few days. “I want to be a T-Rex, Daddy!”
I stand and move toward him, but the breaking of glass from somewhere outside stops me. Chaz’s screams fill my ears and dread kicks in. I look over at my mom. “Go!” she says.
I slip on my shoes and run to the house, cringing when I feel the glass crunching beneath my feet. The living room window’s smashed, so is a ceramic vase now in pieces on the porch steps. “Get outta my house!” Chaz screams. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
I push the door open with so much force, it hits the wall behind it. “What’s going on?” I take a second and look around the room. I look at Chaz standing there with her hands to her mouth, at Becca crying in the corner, and at Martin standing between them, his hands in his hair.
“She can’t…” Martin mumbles.
Becca cowers even more.
“Joshua,” Chaz cries, moving toward me. “Why are these people in my house?”
“It’s okay.” I hug her to me, but my eyes are on Becca.
“Who are they? They broke into my house and they’re… they’re…”
“It’s okay,” I repeat, slowly guiding her back to her bed. I look over at Martin and point to Becca. He seems to come to, quickly moving to comfort her.
“They’re trying to make me take these damn pills, Joshua. They’re trying to kill me!”
I settle the covers around her and sit on the bed.
There are tears in her eyes, fear in her voice matching the fear in my heart. “What’s happening?”
Behind me, Mom says, “Is everything okay?”
I turn to her, hoping she doesn’t have Tommy because I don’t want him seeing this. She must sense my unasked question because she says, “I set him up on his iPad. I video called Blake and Chloe. He’ll be occupied for a while.”
“Who is she?” Chaz asks. “Who are all these people?”
I take a calming breath, my eyes drifting shut from the sudden weight of the world. Then “Ma’am.” I take her hands in mine, and I pray to a God she so strongly believes in that I say and do the right things. “These people are your family.”
She shakes her head, her dark eyes focused on mine. “You’re my only family, Joshua. I don’t…” Her gaze drops, her tears ripping my heart in two. “I don’t know them.”
“I know. And that’s okay. But I promise, Ma’am, they’re not here to hurt you. They’re here to help.”
“I’m scared,” she weeps, her hand squeezing mine. “I feel like I’m not real and this isn’t real and you’re the only thing that makes sense and that can’t be right, can it? How…” Her gaze moves to the window, both hands covering her mouth. “Oh no! The window. What did I do?”
“Don’t worry about the window. I’ll fix it.”
“You’re always fixing things. Always taking care of me.”
Martin clears his throat, his arms around Becca keeping her upright. “I read that it might be helpful if you talk about something she openly remembers…”
“Who is he?” Chaz whispers.
I sigh.
She cries harder.
I focus on Martin’s words, and take a steady breath, trying to find the hope I felt earlier. “You remember me, right?” I ask.
She nods, freeing the tears from her cheeks. They land on the blankets bunched around her and for seconds, minutes, I watch them seep into the fabric.
I mumble, trying to find strength in my voice, “And you know my son, Tommy?”
She nods again. “Thomas Joshua. Such a beautiful boy.”
“You met us at the store. Do you remember that?”
“Yes,” she sobs, wiping at her eyes.
“I didn’t know you were there watching—watching me with a baby in my arms, struggling to pay for his formula and his diapers and I was so afraid, ma’am. I was so scared because I felt like I couldn’t take care of him the way I should. I was failing him, and I tried so hard not to let it show but you saw it, didn’t you?”
Her lips tremble, her eyes filling again.
“And you followed me to that skate shop where I tried to sell my board, and then you followed me again into that alley. I was lost and alone, so alone, and I broke down. And you watched it all. You watched me look at my son, you heard me make promises I didn’t think I could keep, and you saved me. You saved me that day, ma’am.” Now I’m crying, too, our tears a mix of memories and heartache. “And then we went back to the store. Do you remember what you said?”
Chaz inhales deeply before blinking back even more tears. “I said my niece was coming to visit and to get everything I needed for a newborn baby like Thomas.”
“Right. And then you brought us here, led us to that garage apartment and we put away all the groceries you’d bought. Do you remember what you said to me? Because I’ll never forget it, ma’am. Never.”
She sniffs once, holding her breath to stop the cries from forming.
“You took my hand in yours and you said, ‘It’s not much of a house, but you and Tommy, you can make it your home.’ You didn’t just give Tommy and me a place to live. You didn’t just save us. You gave us a family when we had none. And you gave us you. You are our home, Ma’am.”
18
—Becca—
Loud hammering wakes me from my sleep, and I get up quickly and run downstairs to check on Grams. She’s fast asleep, exactly the way I left her in the early hours of the morning. Josh is out on the porch with another guy replacing the window that Grams had thrown a vase—aimed at Dad—through the night before.
“Morning, sleepy head!” Tommy calls out, standing in the middle of the driveway with a skateboard in his arms.
I wave to him, just as Josh asks, “You sleep okay?” He’s wearing work pants and work boots, the kind I’d seen him in often, back when we were together.
I nod. It’s all I can do since I left my phone upstairs. Dad’s voice from the other end of the porch grabs my attention. “How did you get a replacement so fast?” he asks Josh.
Josh ignores him, so the other guy—I now recognize as M
ichael from Josh’s old job—answers. “Josh’s uncle is my boss, and he called in a favor.”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “A favor?”
“Yeah. Before Josh decided to make us all look bad by becoming a pro-athlete, he worked construction,” he says slowly, like it’s something Dad should know. He pats Josh on the shoulder as Josh hammers at the window frame. “My boss made a call to our supplier this morning and got it cut to size.” Michael shrugs. “Josh can do the install on his own. I’m just here to deliver and get free shirts and shoes.”
“The garage door’s open,” Josh mumbles, and without a second thought, Michael makes his way across the driveway toward the garage, cracking jokes with Tommy as he passes.
Josh faces me. “You better get some shoes on, Becs. I haven’t swept the glass yet.”
“I didn’t know you could do this stuff,” Dad says.
Josh scoffs and finally acknowledges him. “With all due respect, sir. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
* * *
“What the hell was that about?” Cordy asks for me.
Dad rubs his hands across his face before sipping on his coffee. “What was what about?”
Grams woke just as Josh was finishing up on the window and he offered to take her for a walk. She’s mobile enough to be able to eat on her own and go to the bathroom, but she still tires easily, so a walk meant him and Tommy on skateboards and her in her chair—something Tommy thought was hilarious. “The Really Wheely Team,” he called them.
Cordy says, “The way Josh spoke to you this morning. That’s not like him. Did you say something to him?”
Dad shrugs. “I may have a had a word with him and I don’t really feel like repeating what all was said, if that’s okay with you.”
I stare incredulously.
“Sweetheart, I just worry about you. That’s all.”
My eyes narrow, and I become unreasonably angry. Not for me. But for Josh. “I don’t care what you said, but whatever it was, you’re wrong. I care about him, Dad. And maybe that’s not enough for you, but he’s going through enough as it is. You need to apologize to him.”