Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“Is that manga appropriate for a twelve-year-old?” I ask him.
He shifts ever so slightly so that the cover of the book is all I can see. “Yes.”
His voice dropped an entire octave on that lie. At least he’s a horrible liar. If he ends up staying with me, detecting when he is or isn’t telling me the truth should be easy.
If he ends up staying with me, maybe I should buy him a few self-help books for balance. I’ll stock his bookshelves with whatever graphic novels he wants, and then secretly slip in a few of my own to supplement my lack of skills as a guardian. Untamed, Man Enough, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Heck, maybe even some sacred text from every major world religion. I’ll take whatever help I can get.
Especially after today. As much as Josh may think this is a one-way trip, I know in my heart he’s coming right back to Boston with me. I just hope he doesn’t come back kicking and screaming.
When the GPS says we’re turning onto the street, Josh’s hand tightens around his manga. He doesn’t look up from it, though, even though he still hasn’t turned the page. When I spot Tim’s address on the curb in front of a run-down frame house, I pull the car over. The house is across the street on the driver’s side, but Josh pretends to be sunk into his story.
“We’re here.”
Josh drops his book and finally looks up. I point to the house, and Josh stares at it for a good ten seconds. Then he puts the book in his backpack.
He brought most of his things with him. The clothes I bought him, some of the books. They’re all stuffed so tight in a backpack that barely zips, and he holds it in his lap with the hope that he has at least one parent that will take him.
“Can we wait a little bit?” he asks.
“Sure.”
While he waits, he fidgets with everything. The air vents, his seat belt, the music on his Bluetooth. Ten minutes pass while I patiently give him the time to work up whatever courage he’s in need of that will help him open the door.
I look at the house, taking my attention off Josh for a while. There’s an old white Ford in the driveway, which is probably why Josh hasn’t worked up the courage to walk across the street and knock on his door yet. It’s an indicator that someone is probably home.
I haven’t tried to talk him out of this because I know what it’s like to want to know your father. He’s going to live in this fantasy until he’s able to confront his reality. As a kid, I had the highest hopes for family, too, but after years of being disappointed, I realized that just because you’re born into a group of people, that doesn’t make them your family.
“Should I just go knock?” Josh finally asks. He’s scared, and to be honest, I’m not feeling the bravest right now, either. I went through a lot with Tim. I’m not looking forward to seeing him again, and I am absolutely dreading the potential outcome of this meeting.
I don’t think this is the best place for Josh, and I’m in no position to tell him he can’t reconnect with his father. But my biggest fear is that he’s going to choose to stay here. That Tim is going to be like my mother and welcome Josh with open arms, simply because he knows it’s the one thing I don’t want to happen.
“I can go with you if you want,” I say, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. I’ll have to stand in front of that man and pretend I don’t want to punch him for the sake of my little brother.
Josh doesn’t move for a while. I’m staring at my phone, attempting to appear patient as he works up courage, but I want to throw the car in drive and get him out of here.
I eventually feel Josh’s finger briefly graze an old scar on my arm, so I look over at him. He’s staring at my arm, taking in the faded scars that remain from the shit I endured living with Sutton and Tim. Josh has never asked me about the scars, though.
“Did Tim do that to you?”
I clench my arm and nod. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. How he treats a son might be completely different from how he treated a stepson.”
“That shouldn’t matter, right? If he treated you like that, why should he get another chance with me?”
It’s the first time Josh has come close to admitting his father isn’t a hero.
I don’t want to be the person he blames in the future for not having a relationship with his dad, but I want to tell him he’s right. His father shouldn’t get another chance. He left and never looked back. There’s no excuse good enough to walk away from your son.