Copyright 2015 Charisse Spiers. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
I grab my football off of my dresser and start tossing it lightly to keep my hands busy. I'm a little nervous. Registration for the youth team is today and I've been teaching myself, at least the best way I know how. I may not be very good, but I’m trying. I'm starting to get really bored sitting at home alone all the time. It took me giving up my allowance and promising I'd get myself to practice for her to agree to let me play, but it'll be worth it. It has to be. I have to get out of this house. Mom is always gone with some guy and I'm not old enough to do anything for myself away from home. The only reason she is letting me play is because we live within walking distance from my school. I already have to fend for myself when it comes to finding meals from the barely stocked cabinets and doing my schoolwork so Mom can go out, doing whatever it is that she does. The few nights that she comes home I have to help get her to bed because she acts weird and says crazy things.
I'm completely self-sufficient, or at least that's what Mom says that I am. It's kind of a big word for someone of my age; even with me being in excel classes at school. She always says I need to learn to be a man and that no son of hers is going to be a pussy. I think that's a bad word, but she likes bad words. She likes anything that she tells me is bad. Football is my last option. I want to do things that other kids my age get to do.
I look around at my small room, almost bare except for my bed and dresser, and the few toys that I have. Our small townhouse doesn't consist of much furniture, because Mom says she doesn't make much money to buy extra things. My favorite toy is the basketball goal that hangs on the back of my door. When I'm bored and alone it keeps me occupied, because I play an imaginary game, pretending I’m in the NBA. The weird thing is that Mom is constantly buying new clothes and things for herself. I'm not sure where she gets the money, because she always says she's broke. I've been saving up all summer to pay the football registration by sneaking over to Mr. Erwin’s next door when Mom leaves to go to work. When he saw me looking at the registration form for about the tenth time, he agreed to let me help him do things for pay since he’s old.
Mom starts screaming, but we are the only two here. I throw the ball down on the bed and open my door, now worried that someone else is here. "You've never made an effort to come around before now, Phillip. What do you want with my son now?"
"He's our son, Anna. I do everything you ask of me to take care of him financially, even more so than you need. Neither of you do without. I personally make sure of it when funds are deposited into your account. You know the reason I can't be around. I wouldn’t even be here now, but I want to see him, so I’m putting my foot down, what I should have done a long time ago. I need to fucking see him."
At the sound of that word I stop. Son? I line my back against the wall of the hallway, trying to stay still so that they won't see me. What does he mean I'm their son? I don't have a father. Mom said he ran off and never wanted anything to do with me before I was even born. She constantly complains about how hard it is to be a single mom.
"No, that's where you're wrong. He's my son. You're just his sperm donor. You made it clear to me that he wasn't yours when you chose your family over us. You told me you fucking loved me and that we were going to be together, but when I got pregnant you ran back to your wife and daughter. We weren't good enough for you. What was the reason, Phillip? Was it because I was your assistant and you saw me as an easy fuck since I was in love with you? How do you think it feels to watch the man you're in love with be a family with someone else while I raise our son? Money isn't everything. Sometimes what someone needs is your presence. Do you think I wanted this? I didn't want kids period, so I sure as hell didn't want them alone."
"You knew I was married, Anna. You knew the consequences of what we were doing. My wife and I were going through a hard time and I was attracted to you, I grew to care about you, and in one form I did love you, but you know we were never in love. We both know it now and knew it then. I love my wife. I just made a lot of mistakes back then. I'm paying for it now by not helping raise my son." He sounds angry, his words slithering through his gritted teeth. It's what I do when Mom makes me mad.
I breathe slowly, trying not to be heard in their silence. He has a family? I have a sister? I'm trying to piece everything together. I may only be eight, but I'm not dumb. I've seen movies, a lot of them actually. I know what goes on between grown-ups when they're naked and under the sheets. I may not know all the details, but I know basically what's going on, and I know that's how babies are made. I spend a lot of time alone and the television teaches me a lot.
I peek around the wall to get a glance. He's standing on the inside of the door facing me. He looks up at the exact moment I peek my head around enough to get a good look at him, as if he already knew I was standing here. He looks like an older version of me. He has the same light brown hair and light eyes. Mom is starting to zone out. She's trying not to cry. I've seen that look before, and often. Mostly it's when her latest date stops calling or picking her up. I don't really understand why it makes her sad. She just calls them friends.
He looks back at Mom as she starts talking again. "Does she know about us? Does she know you have a son? Answer that question and I will decide if you can see him."
I hide behind the wall again. My chest starts to rise and fall quickly. Am I going to meet my dad? I place my tiny nails in my mouth and start to bite. I can't see either of them right now. They're behind the wall in the other room. "Yes, Anna. You know the answer to that question. Is this some kind of joke or have you really forgotten? You were in the same damn room. Things could have turned out so much differently. He could have known me, and his sister, but I guess none of that matters now...because she's dead. I am here because I can’t stay here. I have to move away. I've never asked you for anything, Anna, but I'm asking you to let me see our son."
She doesn’t respond immediately. I'm going to be brave. Mom isn't good at making the right decisions. Even I know that. I step around the wall, showing myself. "Mom..." She turns around at the sound of my voice. "It's okay. I'm a big boy."
I look at the man that looks like me. "So, you're my dad?"
He steps around Mom and walks closer to me with his hands in his pockets. "I am, Kaston." He squats down to bring himself closer to my height, now resting his forearms to his thighs. “Is it okay to talk for a minute? Man to man.”
“Okay.”
“I'm really sorry you don't know me and have had to grow up without a dad. That’s not fair to you, and I'm sorry I've never come to see you, but I have watched you grow from time to time over the years. I even know where you go to school. You never knew I was there, but I was.”
I blink, trying not to cry. Boys aren't supposed to cry. Mom told me so. My friends sometimes make fun of me for not having a dad. They said it was weird, and that kids are supposed to have two parents. "Why didn't you ever tell me who you were? Did you not want me? Did I do something wrong?"
The look on his face changes. He briefly looks at Mom and back at me, before rubbing the pa
lm of his hand over his mouth like he's thinking of what to say. "No, Kaston, that wasn't it at all. Sometimes grown-ups do the wrong things even though we know they aren’t right. You know how when a kid does something wrong, he has to get punished to make him know that it was wrong, and to teach him right?”
I nod.
“Adults get punished too. We make mistakes just like kids do, and when we make those mistakes we have consequences. Unfortunately, sometimes those consequences hurt other people too, but I'm here now because I want to make up for the eight years you've lived without me. Kids shouldn’t feel like they aren't wanted by their parents. I can't change the decisions I made before, just like you can’t take it back after you do something wrong, but now I know what it's like to live without one of my children permanently and not having a choice to change it. I never want to go through that again. I've wanted to be a part of your life for years, but I didn't enforce it harder. I am now. I want to know you, Kaston, if you'll let me."
My stomach feels like it did when Mom took me on that elevator. He's not saying anything, just looking at me. I wonder what he's thinking. Maybe he's waiting on me to say something, but what? “How?”
"There's something I want to ask you and I want you to answer honestly, because it's a big decision, but it's your decision. I don't want you to let your mom nor I sway your decision. Can you do that?"
My heart starts beating fast. I feel like I'm about to go over the slope of a roller coaster. He sounds serious. "Yes, Sir. What do you want to ask me?"
"I have to move away...and I wanted to know if you want to come with me. It'll be just the two of us."
"Like hell you are, Phillip! You aren't taking my son anywhere," Mom says.
He puts up his hand behind him, halting her words. He never takes his eyes off of me. "Kaston, if you want to stay with your mom then I will understand, but if you want to come then I want you with me. I know you don’t know me very well, but I promise to change that. Who you live with should be your decision."
He turns and looks at Mom. "And neither parent should have a say so in your decision, because it's not your fault that things are this way," he says and then turns back to look at me. "If you choose to come I will make sure you are in a good school, you will always have everything you need, and I will take care of you. Son, understand this is a big decision. You won't live close to your mom, so visitation would only be when you want to come and school isn't in process. You need a good education. You need to be a kid, and from recent information I’ve received you aren't getting that here."
He is starting to get an angry look about him, his tone changing like Mom's does when I'm aggravating her. I feel funny. I'm scared. I don't want to make Mom mad, but I think she will do better without me. She always tells me I hold her back from doing things she wants to do and that things would be easier if I were grown. I'm tired of being the weird kid without a dad. I'm sick of being lonely while Mom goes out all the time to do fun things. I don't really know him, but as little as Mom is home it can't be any more awkward than living with her.
I look up at Mom. "If you leave me, Kaston, don't think you can just come back. I've raised you for eight years. He's tried to be a father for eight minutes. It's all or nothing."
"Mom, do you love me?"
"What kind of question is that? This isn't the time to change the subject. What's it going to be, Kaston? I could just call the police if you tried to go anywhere. Would you want me to report you as a runaway, or your father for kidnapping you?"
Not once did she stop fussing long enough to actually answer the question. It really makes me wonder if she pays any attention to me at all or if I'm just invisible to her completely. "Do you even remember what today was?"
I've been reminding her all week that I just needed her signature to give consent for me to play football. I can't play without it. I haven't asked her for anything else, but to show up, sign the paper, and then I wouldn't need her to do anything else.
"Stop being silly. There is nothing important about today. Don’t try to trick me on your birthday. It’s not for a while." She looks at her watch, her eyes still shining from her trying to avoid crying every time she looks at the man in front of me, the one not paying her any attention at all. "You want to be a big boy, Kaston, then now is your chance. You only have one. If you want to go with your father then go, but don't call me when you end up abandoned like I did when I was pregnant with you."
"I’ve heard enough of your fucking mouth, Anna. What the hell is wrong with you? Kaston, I will never abandon you," he says in response to her snippy comment. "It's been eight years and I haven't once left you. I've been in the shadows through every phase of your life, watching you from the places no one can see."
This isn't fair. I shouldn't have to choose. I'm just a kid. I don't want to hurt Mom, but I know that I'm a boy and boys need to be with their dads. I am tired of raising myself. It’s too hard. I just want someone to love me. "I'm sorry, Mom, but I want to go with my dad. Things will be better this way. You'll see. You will finally get your wish and I won't be in your way anymore. You'll finally be happy."
A tear runs down her face, making me feel guilty. "Kaston." I look down at the man that calls himself my dad. "Go pack a bag, Son. I'm going to talk to your mom for a few minutes, okay? You don't need a lot, just enough to get you through a few days and we'll get you everything you need when we get settled."
I nod and back up a few feet. It’s probably a good thing, because I don’t really have a lot. "Where will we be going?"
"I'm not sure yet, but we'll decide together. Does that sound good?"
"Okay...Dad. I'll be right back." I look at Mom once more. "Oh, and Mom, today was my football registration. It was the one thing you promised you wouldn't forget or miss because I’ve begged you all summer, and you can't even remember that one thing. I'm sorry that I get in your way. I try my best not to. I do love you, though. You'll always be my mom."
I turn and walk back toward my room, my heart beating fast in my chest. For the first time in my whole life I feel like someone actually wants me, even though I've only known him for a little while. He may not have been here before, but he came back for me. I finally have a dad like all the other kids. I'll be fine without a mom. I pretty much live without her most of the time anyway...
Twenty years later...
I pull into the club and park, ready for a night of release and relaxation. Work was a bitch today. Sometimes I think it was easier to just go to school during the day and party at night with no other obligations. I kill the ignition as my phone starts to ring. I look down at the screen to see that Dad is calling. I instantly answer. "Hey, Dad, what's up?"
"Kaston, how have you been, Son? Everything okay your way?"
"Never been fucking better. You know...grown up job and shit."
"I sense some sarcasm in your tone. You could always come back to Spain and take over the company. I don't really see you taking orders from someone else anyway. I taught you better than that."
"You're the one that was hell bent on me coming back to the states after graduation, old man. An American education is no better than one there. I was fine staying in Spain with you. I do kind of like it here though. What about expanding the PI firm here? Then we could have two locations; the best of both worlds. I could go back and forth."
"Giving up so easily on your dream of becoming part of the FBI?"
"I guess it's kind of like you said. I don't take well to being someone's bitch. It eats at me and just pisses me off. I feel like smoking a blunt a mile long and I hate weed."
He laughs. I have the best damn dad in the world. He gets me and he doesn't act like he has a stick shoved up his ass all the damn time like some parents. He’s real. "That could work. I think I might like that. I've been thinking about retiring from my other obligations. I have one last job and then maybe we can do this, just the two of us. I'm getting too old for this shit."
I close my eyes. He's never going to
see anything he does as being good enough to avenge her death. "You don't have to fight everyone else's battles, Dad. It's time to give it up. She can lay to rest in peace. You've done more than enough. There's always going to be bad people in the world. You can't get rid of them all. It's time to live. Why don't you let me take the last job…"
"Fuck no. I told you I wouldn't allow you to do this. I want your freedom untouched. I want your conscience clean. I have to do this for her. I would do the same for you. On her death anniversary, I'll retire. I've given it two decades."
"Promise me. One last job and you're done?"
"I promise."
"When is it?"
"Three days."
"What's the hit?"
"Rapist, murderer, and thief. He's a triple threat."
"Be safe?"
"Always. I need to get off the line. Can you fly out next weekend?"
"Yes. I'll fly out Friday."
"See you then."
"Dad."
"Yeah?"
"Be smart. Fucking outsmart him."
"I always do, Son. I love you."
"I love you too, Dad."
The line goes dead. He doesn't tell me about his side job very often. It usually doesn't bother me too much, because I know what kind of man he is and this is something he feels he has to do. God knows the rest of the world commits enough sin that I can’t judge him, because he’s trying to right the world and not make it worse, but this time it's bothering me and I have no idea why. Maybe it's just because I've had a shitty day. I hate my job. Staring at a shit ton of cold case files does things to me I can’t explain. When I get like this I need two things: alcohol and pussy. Both, in that order.
I toss my phone in the passenger seat and lay my head against the headrest. I almost don't feel like going in anymore. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. A knock sounds on the window, reminding me that I'm sitting in my truck. I look over and smile. She backs up and I open the door, get out, and shut it behind me. "Makayla, what are you doing here?"
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