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I tried going somewhere else. I got a hold of Garret last night to ask about his parents’ house, but they’re on vacation. The old job I held between summer league ball and school wasn’t available to me this year. Without money to stay in a hotel, my only choice was to come home. I should man up and call Cassie to check on her. But I don’t. I can make excuses all day long—her dad would find out I called and get her into more trouble, or she’s better off without me—but the truth is, I’m too chicken to find out if another person I love abandoned me. She surely realizes by now how better off she is without me in her life. I don’t think I can stand knowing she wouldn’t want me around. So, I took a page out of her notebook and blocked her number, even if the move gutted me.
I change into my running gear and step out into the living room. Dad startles when he sees me.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m back.”
He scoffs. “I always knew you’d blow your chance.”
My hands ball into fists, but I press them into my thighs. My jaw clamps tight. Talking back now would only fuel the fire. It wouldn’t help.
“Yep, give a man enough rope, and he’ll hang himself.” He laughs menacingly. “I’m not surprised. You screw everything up.”
I want to say not everything. I want to tell him about fixing the ’57 Chevy he supposedly broke. It wasn’t Dad’s fault, but fixing the car that ruined the already broken family gave me some sort of restitution. It felt good having accomplished something. If all fails, I guess being a mechanic won’t be so bad. I don’t necessarily have to work in my dad’s shop. There’s a need for mechanics all over the country.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m back now. You got your wish.”
“You’re worthless.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here.” I breeze past him and head out the back door. The door slams behind me but not before I hear Dad mumble to himself, “I knew he’d screw up sooner or later.”
My feet hit the pavement, and I run. I try to clear my mind with the wind on my face, but every repressed memory crashes forward. The houses blur as I remember Steve picking me up at school and walking me home. He tried making it seem like it wasn’t a big deal that Mom was late. But then we walked into the house, I learned what a big deal it actually was.
“This is your fault.” Dad’s face turned red as spittle flew from his mouth. I’d seen him angry, but I’d never seen him this angry. He pointed a finger at me. “If you weren’t a little bitch boy, she wouldn’t have left.”
“Dad,” Stevie pleaded, but his attempt to calm Dad down only fueled Dad’s anger.
“Don’t you try and coddle him too. That’s his whole problem. That bitch coddled him ever since he was born.” Dad leaned down and got in my face. Pure disdain etched his features. “Look at ya. Red, swollen eyes. You’re nothing but a little pussy. You’ve always been needy. You’re the reason she took off. You drove her goddamn crazy.”
“Dad, that’s not—” Steve didn’t get to finish talking because Dad smacked him aside the head like he did Mom. Steve stumbled back a few steps, his eyes wide with fear.
“I said shut up.”
I couldn’t help the tears that slid from my eyes. I tried to hold them back, but the harder I tried, the more I couldn’t. I drove Mom away. I made Dad mad. I couldn’t do anything right.
“Look at you cry. You disgust me.”
That was the first time my dad hit me, but it wasn’t the last.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
DALTON
It takesgreat restraint not to tug at my polo shirt as I wait to visit my brother. Dressed in my Sunday school best, I spin my ring to keep my mind occupied. Fidgeting around armed guards would be frowned upon, I’m sure, and the last thing I want is to draw any more attention than necessary. Part of me wonders what I’m doing here in the first place.
A week has passed since I left Baytown. I haven’t reached out to Cassie. I wanted to. I wanted to apologize. But what can I say? Her dad will never accept me, and despite what she thinks, she will never leave him. She loves him wholeheartedly. He’s the only family she has left, and I won’t be the one who steps between them.No regrets. No remorse.I won’t let Cassie choose between her family or me. Whether or not she realizes it, she’ll regret that decision and end up leaving me anyway.
My body tenses as the correctional officer steps into the room. I raise my head in anticipation, but he calls some other family member. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but it’s useless. I’m too keyed up. I haven’t laid eyes on my brother for two years. Guilt sinks in. I’ve been on the approved visitor’s list since Steve’s incarceration, but I’ve never utilized the privilege. I never intended to until now. I need answers as to why he’s in here. I need to find out if the reason he’s in here is because of me. If Dad is correct and he did this all for me, I need to apologize. I haven’t heard from the Wildcats coach. I can only assume I’m off the team, and I can kiss my scholarship goodbye. And that means everything my brother did that landed him in jail was for nothing. I close my eyes to the tan block walls surrounding me. A tiny baby cries in the corner of the room. The mom leans over and whispers coddling sounds. The seconds on the wall clock tick by. I tamp down the jittery feeling clawing up my spine. It’s almost time.
“Mr. Boyd, you can come this way.”
I stand and follow the correctional officer to the visitation room. It’s another sterile place with tables set far enough apart for privacy. The officer shows me to my seat. Once settled, my eyes draw to my brother approaching the table. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of him dressed in orange. Guilt washes over me. Shame for taking advantage of my life while he spends time staring at these block walls. Not that I haven’t worked hard, but I certainly never gave any thought to his living conditions. Both times I’ve seen him, he wore a suit to his parole hearings.
His face has hardened, but emotion swirls in his eyes when they connect with mine.
“Brother,” Steve says as he sits.
I swallow past the sudden lump of emotion lodging in my throat. I’ve lost my train of thought as to where to begin. It’s not like I can ask how he’s doing. How fucking lame would that be?
