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29
Wasthis a day of reckoning for me or for him?
Myles Owens.
My mom had me take her name. She’d known right from the start this man wasn’t going to be in my life. So it sure was a mystery how she’d been able to love him enough to make a baby, only to leave him just after I was born.
I’d never asked her much about him. The few times I had, she’d told me he wasn’t a good guy. Guess a lot can change in thirty years. How had he gone from being someone who would ditch a kid to a guy working in a non-profit? Penance. Only sinners repented.
I’d watched every single person who’d walked into the restaurant for the past ten minutes. I was thirty minutes early, so it was ridiculous to think he’d be here. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I tried to watch some YouTube videos but I couldn’t even focus on a dog that could sing “Bohemian Rhapsody.” I wasn’t one to get nervous, and it should have been him who was, but my stomach was in knots, and the water I drank as I waited went down dry.
So here I was, at a café in Venice Beach, my new favorite town, now twenty minutes early and trying not to watch the clock. Why had I come so early? Apparently, Myles also liked to get the worm. Because moments later, a man entered. I knew it was him because I had his eyes. And mouth. And height. All in all, I was just a lighter-skinned version of Myles Owens.
I stood as he entered further into the café, and my movement caught his attention. His gaze settled on me, staring, and he seemed transfixed. I was, too. This moment was immense.
He smiled. He had my teeth, too. Maeve was right. He was a good-looking guy. I tried to focus on the positive because bubbling underneath my surface was a line of questioning that could make a witness weep on the stand. Maeve had tried to prepare me, calm me by telling me bits and pieces of the story my mom had told her. But it hadn’t really had that effect.
Myles snapped out of his stupor, made his way in long, sweeping strides to my table. He held out his hand. “Drake.”
He didn’t ask. He knew just as I had.
“Hi.” I shook his hand. “Do you want to grab a drink first or…? I did get a couple waters.”
“Water is fine.” He sat.
I did, too.
Should I talk first? No. Make him sweat.
Except Myles didn’t seem like the kind of guy who sweated. He didn’t. He went right for the jugular. “Thanks for seeing me. I have always, and you may not believe it, but I have always wanted to meet you.”
“How could you want to meet someone you don’t know?”
He smiled with his eyes and lifted his brows. “I know more than you think. Your grandma wrote to me every year. On your birthday. Until she passed, that is. And I wrote to her, too. I knew when you got your first guitar. I knew when you made the football team in high school. I knew you took a girl named Meagan to the school dance in eighth grade.”
I tried the water again. My mouth wasn’t only dry, it now felt packed with sand. How could my grandma have kept this a secret from both me and my mom for so many years? I obviously knew there was some way my grandma would have gotten my dad’s address, but I couldn’t have dreamed in a million years it was because they’d been pen pals for over a decade.
Myles took a drink of his water. He looked cool, but maybe the desert sand had reached inside him, too.
“My grandma was a smart cookie. Street smarts, too, for an old lady. So why did she write to you in secret?”
Myles nodded and smiled. “That’s true. She was ahead of her time.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get why, or how, you could abandon me, and then my grandma would want to update you and keep in touch.”
“Your mom didn’t tell you anything?” His eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”
“Until yesterday, I assumed you abandoned me. My mom just said I couldn’t see you because you were trouble.”
Myles let out a laugh. “Oh man. Well, that’s true.”
“She kept me in the dark, and I didn’t ask. To be honest, I haven’t spoken to Maeve or my mom about this much. I was pretty pissed they went behind my back and found you. Much as I appreciate you being in the picture, and your willingness to possibly help me, I’m not sure you deserve for me to play happy families.”
As soon as I’d said it, I realized how rude it was. The little boy in me finally had a chance to let out some of that raw, gritty sadness. So be it.
“I’m not here to do that, Drake. I just wanted to meet you. For thirty years, I’ve wanted to meet you.”
“Tell me what happened.” My words came out stiff and accusatory, but this was what I had come here to do.
