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I sit up straighter, light finally shining on my confusion of his actions. “What do you mean?”
He’s quick to respond, as if he’d been waiting to tell someone, to lift the weight off his shoulders. “I mean, when I got her I had no idea what to do. I had a daughter who needed help and so I tried to do everything a dad was meant to do. I gave her a home, gave her support, but she’s not a little girl who needs her hand held to jump over puddles, you know? She was eighteen, a woman, and the majority of the time she was a strong one. Now, she’s even stronger, so I don’t really understand what my purpose in her life is. I feel like I should protect her from all the bad in the world, but you’re right, I was eighteen years too late and she’s already experienced them all.”
“I didn’t mean what I said. I was angry and this whole thing with Chazarae…” I trail off.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have pushed the wrong buttons. I’m just having a hard time with everything. Add to that the guilt I feel because I should be working, making money, but if I’m at work, then I can’t be here, and right now I don’t know which one’s more important. All that is going through my head, and then we get told that Chazarae needs medical support and all I can think about is how much it’s all going to cost—”
“I said I’d take care of it,” I cut in.
“I know,” he says reassuringly. “And I appreciate it. I think with everything else going on, you being able to do that just added more fuel to my fire.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet.
He finishes his beer and starts another one. “Fifty years I’ve been around. Thirty of those I spent working the same job. I never thought I’d have a family, never really wanted one, to be honest. I blew my paycheck whenever I got it, never had a home, just crashed at friends’ houses until I was back at work. Thirty years and I never really thought about anyone but myself. And then I get told about Becca and St. Louis and…” He swallows loudly, his beer almost empty again. “You ever feel like the world just stops, Warden?”
I stare ahead, letting his admission settle in my mind. “Yeah. All the time.”
“That’s how it felt when I saw her picture. I knew that she was mine, and I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t turn her away. So I quit, gathered whatever savings I had, sold whatever I could, and rented that house near WU. I couldn’t go back to work, not until I knew she was okay mentally. Even now I’m taking these small jobs because I don’t want to be gone too long in case she needs me, which she hasn’t for a while, but what if she does and I’m not around?” He’s talking in circles, trying to justify every decision he’s ever made. I know, because I do the same whenever it comes to Tommy. “College ain’t cheap. Neither is all the camera equipment and computer stuff she needs, and the rent for the house—” he breaks off suddenly, his eyes widening. “I don’t want you to think that I’m asking you for money, that’s the last thing—”
“I know,” I tell him, my mind spinning, “We’re just talking, right?”
He laughs once. “I know this doesn’t excuse the way I treated you.”
“I get it, though.” I find myself matching his position, legs kicked out, beer in hand, like it somehow makes this a man-to-man conversation. “You thought you were protecting her. And I know you probably don’t want to hear it, especially from me, but I understand what it’s like to be broke and to do everything you can for your kid. When Tommy’s mother left, I went running to my parents. They slammed the door in my face—something they regret, and something I’ve forgiven them for. But I would’ve never gone to anyone else. Every man, even at seventeen, has a level of pride, and then it doubles when being a man comes second to being a father. But even though I never asked, help was offered. My best friend, Chazarae, my uncle—they all came through when I needed them the most. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know it’s hard to ask for help. But there’s nothing wrong with accepting it when it’s offered. Especially when your kid’s involved.”
19
—Becca—
I have no idea what Dad said to Josh that made Josh speak to him the way he had. But I do know they spoke, and the next morning right before Dad left, Josh stopped him in the driveway, handed him something and said, “You didn’t ask.” They hugged. Honestly, it was a little awkward for me to watch, so I can’t even imagine how awkward it was for them to do it. Once the cab drove away with Dad, Josh turned to me and he smiled the same crooked smile that sets off all the butterflies and said, “Let’s take care of your grams.”
