by Alexa Land
“I am. Like you said, we wouldn’t do it right away, not only for Elijah’s sake, but because I haven’t been out of recovery very long. I love this idea, though.” He smiled at me, and I ran my fingertips over his cheek. It felt so good to plan a future together.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stopped in my tracks and muttered, “Holy crap.”
My boyfriend looked devastatingly handsome. His dark gray suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist. We’d both gone to the barber shop that morning and had gotten haircuts, and it was the first time I’d seen him with short, tidy hair. It brought the focus to his beautiful light eyes, instead of hiding them. There was worry in those eyes, though, and he asked, “Do I look okay? It’s been a long time since I’ve worn a suit. I don’t even think this one’s in style anymore.”
“You look amazing.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him gently. He’d just shaved, and his cheeks were smooth to the touch.
“So do you.” I was dressed in my only suit. The blue thrift store find was only ever used for legal proceedings and meetings with my dad’s case manager. I wished I had another one, since I associated it strongly with disappointment. “Guess it’s time to go,” he said, and I nodded.
The cat glared at us as we left the apartment, and I called, “See you later, Chaplin.” That made him jump off the coffee table and hide under the couch. Our relationship was still a work-in-progress.
When we reached TJ’s car, we both took off our jackets and put them on the backseat, and then he got behind the wheel. It was a two-hour drive to the prison. We were both anxious, and neither of us spoke as we left the city.
Eventually, he said, “I wish you’d eaten something this morning. You must be so hungry.”
“I couldn’t, my stomach’s in knots. I was a high school kid last time my dad saw me. I might seem like a stranger to him.”
“In a way, it reminds me of when Trevor and I found each other three years ago. We had no idea how to relate to each other as adults. I guess we’re still learning.”
I said, “I’m also worried about the meeting with the lawyers. What if we’re getting my dad’s hopes up for nothing? There are no guarantees that they can get him out of prison.”
“Your father knows that, though. He’s had plenty of experience dealing with the legal system by now.” TJ didn’t say it, but I filled it in anyway: my dad was used to disappointment.
*****
A high, imposing wall surrounded Warrington State Prison. It seemed like overkill. There was a second fence around the prison building, and that one was topped with razor wire and had a guard tower at each corner. So basically, the outer wall was just there to trap the parked cars and the administrative offices.
Fortunately, the legal team met us outside the main building, since I didn’t have a clue where to go. Alastair was there too, as promised. He wasn’t going to sit in on the meeting, but he’d come along anyway. He thought he might be useful, because he was ‘excellent at ordering people in suits around.’ His words.
The lawyers oozed confidence and efficiency, and assumed control right after we made our introductions. There were two men and two women, and they all delivered crushing handshakes. They shepherded us through the sign-in process, the pat-down, and the metal detectors as if they did this every day. We followed them and an armed guard through a labyrinth of hallways, until we reached a featureless waiting room.
“Good luck, mate,” Alastair said. He too was wearing a suit, which looked perfectly natural on him and made him seem older than he was. He gave me a quick hug and then glanced at TJ to see if he’d disapprove.
TJ just patted his shoulder, then drew me into an embrace. “I’ll be right out here if you need me,” he whispered.
“You still okay with me bringing you in at the end to meet my dad?” I’d called the lawyers that morning, and they’d somehow gotten approval to include TJ in the meeting, despite his criminal record. I wasn’t quite sure how they’d managed that.
“If that’s what you want, then absolutely. If you end up running out of time or change your mind, that’s fine, too. I’m not the priority here.”
I kissed his cheek before following the lawyers and the guard into the conference room. The space was plain and utilitarian, just a big wooden table surrounded by six no-frills chairs, a whiteboard, a clock exactly like the ones I remembered from elementary school, and a wall of windows that served no purpose at all. The reinforced, shatterproof panes were so frosted that they barely let in any light, and weren’t designed to open, so they didn’t let in any fresh air, either. That sucked, since the room was stuffy. I tugged at my collar and muttered, mostly to myself, “I’m going to suffocate in here.”
One of the lawyers, a tall African-American man named Chet, took that as a call to action and instructed the guard to adjust the climate controls. He addressed the man like he was his personal assistant. The guard, a man of about fifty with a name badge that read D. Peralta, looked like he was fighting an eye roll as he turned his attention to a box on the wall and made some adjustments.
Chet was unfailingly kind to me, though. So were his colleagues. He asked the guard to bring me a glass of water and said, “You have nothing to worry about, Zachary. Your father has a solid case. My firm went through the original trial with a fine-tooth comb and found numerous errors on the part of both the defense and the prosecution. The very fact that the court has agreed to a retrial tells us there’s an excellent chance we can get his verdict reversed.”
“God I hope so,” I said. My voice was barely a whisper.
It was several minutes before the door at the back of the room opened and my father was led inside by another armed guard. A lump instantly formed in my throat. He was almost unrecognizable. It seemed like my dad had aged twenty years instead of six. His face and body were lean and hard, and his hair and beard where shot through with gray. He wore an orange jumpsuit, and there was a chain around his waist, connected to his wrists. His ankles were shackled too, so he had to shuffle when he walked.
Seeing my kind, gentle father chained like an animal tore my heart out. I got to my feet as the guard removed the restraints, steadying myself with a hand on the tabletop. It was a struggle to hold back my tears. My dad’s gaze remained fixed on the tile floor. I realized after a moment that he looked ashamed. He didn’t want me to see him like that. It became so much harder to fight the tears.
The second guard left the room with the chains, closing the door behind him. The guard that remained stood in the corner with his hands folded in front of him. His expression was perfectly neutral.
I took a step toward my dad, and only then did he look up. There was raw heartbreak in his eyes, just like there must have been in mine. He whispered, “My God, look at you. You’re all grown up.”
I proved him wrong when I whispered, “Papa,” and lost the battle to hold back my tears. I hadn’t called him that since I was six years old. I ran to him, just like six-year-old me would have, and he held out his arms. I crushed him in an embrace, and as he held me tight, I stammered, “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too. God, I missed you, Zachary.” His voice was exactly the same as I remembered it, deep and warm. I broke down sobbing and never wanted to let go. How the hell was I going to walk away at the end of this meeting and leave him in that hell hole?
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered between sobs.
“What are you apologizing for?”
“Everything.”
“Nothing that happened was your fault.” My dad stroked my hair as I took a deep breath and tried to get myself under control. I pulled back a little to look at him, and my father ran his hand over my cheek. “God it’s good to see you, Sloneczko.”
I laughed through my tears and said, “I’d almost forgotten that nickname.” He’d stopped calling me that about the same time I stopped calling him Papa. It was literally the only word he knew in Polish, and it meant ‘sunshine’. His grandmo
ther had called him by that name when he was little, and he’d passed it on to me.
When my father smiled at me, his warm, brown eyes crinkled at the corners and the years fell away. He looked like the man I remembered. We sat down side by side and I hugged his arm as the lawyers introduced themselves. I knew I was acting like a child in front of them, but I didn‘t care. “We have a lot to discuss, Mr. Paleki,” Chet told my father as he pulled a thick file from his briefcase. “Let’s work on getting you out of here.”
We’d only been allotted an hour for the meeting by whoever made the rules. The lawyers worked quickly and efficiently, asking us questions and making notes. They seemed very well-prepared and had obviously studied his case closely.
A court date had been scheduled almost exactly a month from that day, on the thirtieth of December, and I started to feel optimistic as I listened to the legal team. I could tell my dad felt the same way. If this ended up leading nowhere, I’d never forgive myself for getting his hopes up.
Toward the end of the hour, a lawyer named Samantha said, “We’ll be meeting with you twice more before your court date, Mr. Paleki, to prepare you for your testimony and to assure we’ve built an iron-clad defense. We won’t be as time-restricted next time.” The hour time limit had been imposed because I was a part of the meeting. God forbid that it might have turned into a chance to visit with his son.
“Thank you,” my dad said, “for everything.”
“Save the thanks for when we get you out of here. Zachary expressed an interest in visiting with you for a few minutes at the end of the hour, so we’ll leave you two alone.” Samantha snapped her briefcase shut and smiled at us as she and her colleagues got up from the table. “See you in a week.” The lawyers shook hands with my father one by one and left the room, but the guard in the corner remained. He’d stood in the same spot during the entire meeting, his neutral expression never wavering.
My dad turned to me and said, “I don’t know how you pulled this off, but thank you. I guess you’ve got some friends in high places.”
“Just one. My friend Alastair is a great guy and I’m looking forward to introducing you. But there’s someone else I want you to meet today.”
My father’s expression instantly darkened, and he muttered, “The old guy.”
I sighed at that and said, “My boyfriend is not old.”
“Yeah, he is. He’s only four years younger than I am, for God’s sake!”
“You’re not old, either.”
“Like hell I’m not. I feel ancient.”
“That’s because this place is sucking the life out of you.”
“You’re not wrong there,” he said. “But that’s beside the point. Any guy who’d go after a boy half his age only wants one thing! You should know better than to get mixed up with someone like that!”
“I’m not a boy, Dad. And our age difference is a total nonissue. I’d love TJ if he was twenty-one or forty-one or sixty-one. It makes absolutely no difference!”
“Jesus, thank God he’s not sixty-one,” my dad muttered. Then he added, “I don’t get it. You’re such a handsome kid!” I shot him a look, and he said, “Sorry. Man. My point is, you could have anyone you want. Why would you settle for some old guy who has to be taking advantage of you?”
“I’m not settling, not by a long shot! And in no way is TJ taking advantage of me!”
“You can’t be this naïve, Zachary.”
“And you can’t be this closed-minded!”
His voice rose. “I’m not! I just want what’s best for my son, and that’s not some old guy who probably treats you like a trophy! You deserve so much better than that!”
My voice rose, too. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about! He doesn’t even sort of treat me that way. This is exactly why I wanted you to meet him, so you could clear up your misconceptions. But I’m not going to bring him in here if you’re going to treat him like dirt!”
“How else would I treat a fucking child molester?”
“Oh, come on! I’m twenty-four years old, Dad. I’m a grown man. I know that you probably still think of me as that innocent little eighteen-year-old you used to know, but I’m not that kid anymore. I grew up a long, long time ago.” My dad flinched at those words and looked away. Shit, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. I took a deep breath, and then I continued quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, or to remind you of the years we lost.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet, too.
After a pause, I said softly, “Why can’t you just be happy for me, Dad? I found a great guy, someone who loves me with all his heart, and who I love with all of mine. TJ literally saved my life, and I’m so damn grateful for him, every minute of every day.”
He turned to look at me. “What are you talking about? How did he save your life?”
I hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, “I’ve been keeping a lot from you in my letters. You know I was busted for drug possession when I was eighteen, since that’s why I’m not allowed to visit you here. I told you I got clean after that, but that was a lie. I used pretty much everything out there over the last six years, meth, cocaine, pot, you name it. I managed to hold it together though, until I tried heroin. When TJ met me, I was a junkie. Soon after, I hit rock bottom. I know for a fact I would have ODed if it wasn’t for him. He helped me get clean and has been there for me through every step of my recovery.”
I glanced at my dad. He looked stunned. I returned my gaze to the floor and continued, “TJ was a drug user too, decades before I knew him. He got clean and stayed that way, so he knew how to help me. He let me stay with him while I went through withdrawal, and he got me a counselor. He never once took advantage of me, not in any way. I was the one who initiated a romantic relationship after the worst of all of that was behind me, and he insisted that we take it slowly. He’s always put my well-being first, Dad. He’s an amazing man, and he truly loves me.”
My father was quiet for a while before asking, “How could you keep all of that from me?”
“I never told you about my drug problem because I didn’t want you to worry about me. I didn’t want you to be disappointed, either. You had such high hopes for me, and you taught me to stay away from drugs. I failed you, Dad, and I’m sorry.”
“You never failed me, Zachary. I can only imagine how hard the last six years have been on you. I left you with nothing when I went to prison. It didn’t surprise me all that much when you got arrested for possession right after that. I figured you’d probably turned to drugs to try to shut out the pain of what had happened.”
“Yeah, but it was a terrible decision, and I—”
Just then, the door at the back of the room opened, and the guard with the chains returned. “It’s time,” he said flatly.
I jumped to my feet and exclaimed, “No! Not yet! We’re not done!”
“I don’t make the rules.” The guard started to walk toward us. I wanted to throw myself between him and my dad and yell and grab the chains from his hands.
The other guard, Peralta, surprised me when he stepped forward and said, “Give ‘em five more minutes, Bobby.”
“Why should I?”
Peralta raised an eyebrow. “Three reasons. First of all, there’s no reason to be a dick. Second, you didn’t bring Paleki in until nine past the hour, when he was supposed to be here right at noon, so they’re owed more time. Third, see reason number one.”
The other guard stared him down for a long moment. Peralta held his gaze with steely determination. Finally, the guard with the chains turned and left the room, muttering, “Fine. Five minutes, asshole.”
I turned to Peralta and said, “Thank you so much.”
He just shrugged. “I got a son too, about your age. I can’t imagine going six years without seeing him. You want me to go to the lobby and bring in the old guy?”
I grinned at that. “Yes, please. His name is TJ Dean.”
The guard went to the other d
oor, stuck his head out, and looked around. After a moment, he called, “Is there a TJ Dean here?” When TJ came up to him, Peralta said, “You’re the old guy?”
TJ said, “I…guess?” The guard stepped aside, and my boyfriend came into the room. His expression wouldn’t have been any less guarded if he’d been walking into a pit of cobras.
My father was on his feet, and he and TJ assessed each other for a long moment. Finally, he stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “Mel Paleki.”
“TJ Dean.”
They shook hands, and my dad asked, “What do the initials stand for?”
“Trevor James. Since Trevor is also my son’s name, I just go by TJ.”
“I didn’t realize you had a son. How old is he?”
“Twenty-four.”
My dad shot me a look, and I frowned at him. When he turned back to TJ, he said, “How would you feel about your boy dating someone your age?”
TJ considered the question, then said, “It would depend on the man. I don’t get a vote in Trevor’s life though, so it wouldn’t really matter what I think.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t around for most of his life, so I have no business telling him what to do. I went to jail when he was a toddler, and when I got out, he and his mother had disappeared. We actually didn’t find each other again until three years ago.”
“Shit. Sorry.”
TJ grinned a little. “It’s a good thing I didn’t get a vote, actually, because I would have completely disapproved of his husband Vincent. I would have been wrong, too. Trevor married a man whose family has a very long history in organized crime. On paper, he’s the last person I’d ever want my son involved with, but Vincent has surprised me every step of the way. He and Trevor are deeply in love and great parents to their adopted son. Now they’re expecting twins, and Vincent’s proven to be a completely devoted family man. You just never know about people.”
“So you have a gay kid, too.” TJ nodded, and my dad watched him for a moment before saying, “Thanks for helping Zachary when he was trying to quit heroin. He never told me about any of that until today.”
