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“That’s all you have to say? You’re their father. Be one.”
“I’m trying.”
“Oh, I’ve heard that before.” I crossed my arms.
“I know I’ve said it, but—”
“Not from you. From my dad.”
The comparison hit him square in the chest and he went still. “You think I’m like him?”
“Maybe you are. Clearly, Agnes thinks you are.”
I wondered if he would snap at me. Or worse, yell. His fists were clenched. He was pissed at me.
Maybe a fight was what we both needed.
“I’m taking Agnes,” is what he said instead, and he brushed past me. I turned to follow, only to see him staring at the little girl eating.
“Am I in trouble?” she muttered.
“You never are,” he said softly. “What are you eating?”
“Hopes and dreams.”
“So, Lucky Charms. I’ll get you some.”
“Fuck you.”
“Beatrice misses you.”
That made Agnes look up. Her bottom lip poked out and she stormed out of the apartment.
Gabriel didn’t look at me as he left.
When I was alone, I let out a sigh and pressed my palm against my forehead. I’d felt so bad for Agnes that I punched my way into a situation I had no standing in, and it only seemed to make it worse.
In the old days, I would hold onto my anger. I’d refuse to feel bad. Were there similarities between Gabriel and Dad? From my perspective, yes.
But I was old enough now to know my perspective wasn’t everything.
Which meant I owed Gabriel an apology.
12
GABRIEL
Strawberry Springs Neighborhood Watch
Jackie Anne: @Wren Hackett When are you working on that old shack right outside of the square? I’m worried it’s going to fall any day now!
Comments:
Wren Hackett: I want to, but I still haven’t gotten the funding approval yet.
Jackie Anne: Still??? What’s going on? They’ve never been late before!
Tammy Jane: Bet it finally ran out of money . . .
