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He looks up from his train set and he smiles.
And I realize it then; what everyone always tells me. His eyes may be like his mother’s, but his smile’s mine.
His happiness belongs to me.
“Your aunt said you drew something?”
“Wanna see?”
“I’d love to see it.” I place the photograph on top of the fridge and grab his backpack before sitting down on the couch. He takes a seat next to me and waits while I pull out his drawing from his bag.
I unfold it slowly as he climbs onto my lap.
It’s a stick figure drawing of a bunch of people—the smallest in the middle. “That’s me,” he says, pointing to the figure. Then he points to the ones next to him, “That’s you and Momma.” He goes on and tells me who the rest are; Natalie’s parents, Robby and Kim, Hunter and Chloe, his Nan and Pa, and then he points to Chazarae and Becca.
My eyes fix on his image of Becca—of her darker skin and her flowing dark hair and her eyes—her bright-green crayon eyes. “Daddy?” he asks, grabbing my chin between his hands and getting me to face him. His gaze flicks between my eyes, and then he says, “It’s my family. You like it?”
“Your family?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Do you like it?”
“I love it, Tommy. It’s one of greatest pictures I’ll ever own.”
He laughs at that, and follows me to the kitchen so I can stick it on the fridge along with all his other ones.
“I might sell it online,” I tell him. “I think I might be able to get a trillion moneys and then you can take care of Daddy for once. How does that sound?”
He cackles with laughter. One that spreads my heart completely open for him. I pick a magnet on the fridge and that’s when I see it; something that wasn’t there yesterday.
Two magnets.
Both white.
Red ink.
Choose to be happy. Fire truck the rest. -C-Lo.
I look down at Tommy quickly—still laughing, still happy.
Then I gaze back up at the picture of Tommy stuck on the fridge—the first one of him that Becca ever showed me. His face is covered in dirt mixed with sweat and his smile prominent.
Then I see the magnet used to keep it in place.
One word.
COAST.
Yeah…
It’s extremely easy to fall into the darkness.
But then I see my son.
And I hear his laugh because I’ve sheltered him from the pain of it all.
Just like my dad sheltered me.
Then the storm passes and the blackness turns to light.
And I wake up.
Breathe new air.
And fall even deeper in love with a kid a created.
I search for the light.
And my light is his words.
His last words.
“Time to coast, son.”
40
-Joshua-
So, for the next year I do what he asks.
I coast.
I think about him every second I’m out there.
I train when I can, travel only when I have to, and work in between. I place more times than not and even win a few comps. Each trophy sits on the mantel at my parent’s house right beneath a picture of three generations of Warden men. Warden Warriors, my mom calls us.
The sponsors start coming through—ones that are actually worthy of my attention. Chris and my mother take care of everything. The number one clause in all the contracts is that it doesn’t take away from my time with Tommy. Along with the exposure, comes interviews and social media awareness—things I don’t really enjoy but know I have to do in order to get myself out there. It all happens so quickly that I’m not really prepared for any of it—especially the phone call from Chris when he tells me that Globe shoes wants to be my major sponsor. They offer a six-figure deal that’ll entail me wearing their gear, promoting their brand, and they’ll take care of everything else. “You’d be an idiot not to take it,” Chris says. “I’ve gone over every single detail of the contract and they don’t want anything from you, Josh. They just want you.”
I take the deal. I’d be stupid not to.
Chris says the online skate world blew up when it was announced. I start getting messages from everyone and their dog congratulating me. I even make front page of the local newspaper. The day after the newspaper comes out I show up to the job site just like I’ve done many other days and as soon as Robby and all the other guys see me they drop their tools and cross their arms.
“What’s going on?” I ask Robby.
“They refuse to work with a celebrity,” he says, patting my shoulder.
“Don’t be assholes,” I shout, strapping on my tool belt.
They don’t move.
“Get out of here, Josh,” Robby says. “You can’t be wasting your time on a job like this when you have so much else going for you.”
“Shut up,” I say incredulously. Then repeat it, softer this time.
“I’m serious. And so are the boys. We’re all proud of you, Josh. You’ve worked hard and you’ve earned it. You deserve everything coming your way. And as much as we love/hate seeing your handsome face every day, we don’t want to see it anymore.” He smirks. “So, you either walk off my job site or I fire you. Your choice.”
“You’re kidding, right? I need this job. I need a fall back in case anything happens. I could get injured tomorrow and—”
“The job will always be here, Josh, and you know that. But right now, you’re living the dream. Take some time. Soak it in. Enjoy life.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Coast”
