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“No, sweetheart. You’re not in trouble. This was my fault, not yours.”
“How come you have a gun?”
“Because I was scared.”
“Because Daddy isn’t here?”
Maggie shrugs. She’s been scared for so long it’s hard to know what she’s scared of anymore. “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to get rid of that stupid gun,” she tells him. “And then you know what?”
“What?”
Maggie smiles through her tears. “Then I’m not going to be scared anymore.”
—
Aiden sits at the kitchen table in the dark, the only light coming from the iPad open in front of him. He clicks onto Facebook and types in the name Gordon Young, then stops, erases it, types it in again, then erases it again.
What the hell is he doing?
How much more of a mess can he make of this night?
He’s hated Fourth of July celebrations ever since he came back from Afghanistan, the intermittent, bomb-like explosions of the colorful displays, the rifle-likerat-a-tat-tatof the firecrackers, the easy patriotism that knows nothing of death and destruction.
He knows that he made a complete ass of himself by tackling Julia Fisher’s grandson in front of all the neighbors, that he embarrassed Heidi and scared the poor old lady half to death. He’s lucky Mark wasn’t seriously injured.
And for what? Had he really thought the kid was an enemy combatant? Did he honestly believe his mother’s accusations had any merit?
He bites down on his bottom lip till he tastes blood. What is the matter with him? He knows that Heidi would never cheat on him. He knows the baby is his. Why does he let his mother put such stupid ideas into his head? Why does he continue to let her manipulate and control him?
“She’s just using this baby to try and trap you,” Lisa said even before they were fully through their front door. “You know that.”
“I don’t think…” he started to reply.
“That’s the problem. You aren’t thinking clearly. Not where she’s concerned. You never have. Darling, don’t you see? She’s just using you. This baby is her meal ticket. You deserve so much better.”
Heidi’s the one who deserves better,Aiden thinks now.
He’d waited for her to come home when the night’s celebration was over and the last of the fireworks had been sent soaring into the sky. From his living room window, he’d watched the neighbors packing up and putting everything away and waited for Heidi to break from Maggie’s side and come back home to him.
But she didn’t come home.
Instead, he watched her go home with Maggie.
“It’s better this way,” his mother said.
Was it?
“I don’t know what to do,”he’d said to Maggie.
“You’ll figure it out.”
Would he?
“I think you already know,”she’d said.
Once again, Aiden enters the name Gordon Young into his iPad. The screen is suddenly awash with images. There are literally dozens of Gordon Youngs on Facebook. Gordon Youngs of all shapes and sizes, all ages. White, black, and brown Gordon Youngs. Aiden scrolls through the photos until he finds the one he’s looking for.
Even though the man is decades older and twenty pounds heavier than he was the last time Aiden saw him, he instantly recognizes the man who is his father. According to his profile, Gordon Young works as a building contractor and lives in San Francisco with his wife of twelve years and their three dogs. If the photos posted are an accurate reflection, they look happy. Hell, even the dogs seem to be smiling.
