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I look at my inked hands. “How old is he?”
Smiling, he tells me, “He’s twenty but has the mind of a four-year-old.”
“What?” I ask.
“He is disabled and has severe autism,” he explains, “He’s a great kid.” He shows me a picture from his wallet.
“Does he live with you?” I ask, handing him back the picture.
He shakes his head, puts his feet up on his desk, and takes out a pack of Lucky Strikes. “What’s that smile for, kid?”
“I smoke the same ones,” I tell him.
The side of his mouth hikes up when he taps the carton on his leg and offers me a cigarette. He lights mine before the flame dances in front of his own.
“Nah, he lives in a great home. He needs twenty-four-hour care. Debra used to take care of him when he was younger; she couldn’t after a while. But he’s happy there. You should meet him.”
“I’d like that,” I say, looking at the dog tags hanging around my neck.
We are both quiet for a while, smoking our cigarettes, listening to the muffled sounds of the party still going on outside.
“Did Jay come here to talk to you?”
He smiles. “Jay’s daughter actually, a couple weeks ago. She made me promise not to tell you. The girl loves you. She knew you wouldn’t let her pay the money you owed, so she asked me. Kid’s got balls coming here, I’ll tell you that much.”
I’m momentarily speechless. “Can’t believe she did that,” I say, inhaling deep and blowing out the smoke through my nose, the cigarette shaking between my fingers. “You know what is happening to her?”
He leans forward, putting his hands on his knees. “She told me. There’s one thing I know.” His eyes are kind. “You got a good one there.”
I bite my lip. “I’m scared, Dad,” I say.
He places his hand on my shoulder, pinching a little. “I know, son. I know.”
“I’m not ready to let go yet.”
He smiles at me. “Then don’t.”
He’s right.
We talk throughout the night, and well into the early morning. There are still a lot of things left unsaid but I know we’ve passed some sort of imaginary line. We talk about memories shared, and dreams we have but have never reached. And I listen until I find what I’m looking for. I want to understand, to get to know the man who left me, the man whose dreams didn’t include me.
He talks about Jay as an old friend. When he points to the wall of my clippings, of articles and pictures, I spot the pride in his eyes.
“You gave me everything to succeed, Dad. Without the pain, without the hate, the hurt, I could never have ridden the way I did.” I swallow hard. “I never needed anyone.”
“And now?” he asks, with red-rimmed eyes.
“I guess you know the answer to your question.”
He smiles. “I guess we do.”
We both stand and I hold out my hand. He takes me into his arms, slapping my back twice. When he looks into my eyes, I can’t help but smile.
“I’m going to pay you back,” I say, promising him right then and there.
“You don’t have to.” He shakes his head, smiling. “It is what I wanted to do.”
“Either way, I am going to do it.”
