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Noah has been exceptionally patient and understanding while I sort through the things I never really dealt with, and while I don’t think he minds taking care of me–that’s kind of his personality–I don’t want to be the kind of man who needs to be coddled. Prior to the run-in with my folks, I wasn’t, and I want that back. No, scratch that. I want to find a balance between taking care of myself and letting him take care of me.
“Preston,” Uncle Callahan booms as he opens the door.
“Tripp, actually,” I correct him as I step inside.
“Right. Sorry. That might take a little getting used to.”
“It’s okay.” I follow him as he leads us to his office, a room in dark cherry wood with an ornate desk and a wall of books. It's everything I imagined a judge’s office would look like. Even though this is a friendly visit, I can’t help feeling a little like I’m in a principal’s office, about to be interrogated.
He gestures to one of the wingback chairs as he takes a seat behind the desk. “Rose is packing her bags. I thought we might catch up until she’s ready.”
“Sure.”
“First off, I’d like to say I’m sorry.”
“What?” I balk. “Why are you sorry?”
Uncle Callahan props his elbows on the armrest and steeples his fingers together. “I always knew your parents weren’t really the parental type. They were both rather ambitious, even back in college, and in truth I think that’s why we became friends since I was the same way.” A wistful smile flashes across his face before he becomes serious again. “You were a bit of a surprise, and while I knew they continued to put your father’s career first even after you arrived, I did think you were being treated well at home.”
He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I knew you and your father butted heads of course, but that was no different than any other father and son relationship. At least not that I saw, and having no child of my own, I didn’t feel qualified to second guess my friend. Not even when they shipped you off to a military academy for getting caught up in drugs.”
My eyes widen on their own accord as my jaw drops.
“Yes, I knew about that. A few joints clearly intended for personal use wouldn’t have landed you in too much trouble, but I stepped in to help make that go away at your father’s request. They told me it was because of the drug incident that they sent you to school, although I now know they kicked you out.”
“Then they told you I became a doctor.” I put the pieces together. “And you believed that?”
“I did find it strange since I knew you to be an artistic kid, but military schools aren’t exactly known for their art programs, so I thought it was possible you discovered an aptitude for science.”
“You didn’t think it was strange that I never came home?”
“Since I knew you weren’t overly close with your parents, no. Plus, they spend half their time in Washington, so I had no reason to think they were making up stories that you visited them there.”
I chew my lip, considering his words. “The lack of family photos wasn’t a clue?”
“Are there any family photos in their house?”
“Good point.” I laugh without any humor. “Still, you’re their closest friend.”
“Was. We haven’t been close in years. Your father’s ambition out-paced mine a long time ago. While we kept in touch sporadically, that was more out of a sense of obligation than desire. We’re both prominent men in the community, and our decades-long friendship has been well-documented. It was easier to go through the motions than to sever ties. That’s why I owe you an apology. Your parents and I may have drifted apart, but I was still your Godfather, and I failed you.”
This is a lot to take in, and while part of me wishes he had done more when I was a kid, I can see how my parents manipulated him the same way they did me.
“They failed me, not you.”
“I’m a grown man, son. I can admit when I’ve screwed up, but I’d like to do better going forward. If you’re open to that.”
Not that long ago it was just me. And maybe Xander in a platonic way. Now I have a boyfriend, several friends, the only mother I’ve ever known and possibly an uncle in my life. It’s been a weird several weeks.
“Um, yeah. I’m open to that.”
“Wonderful.” His smile is almost blinding. “Maybe you and that young man of yours can come over for dinner. I’d love to hear more about how you helped him after his injury.”
“You remember the part about me not being a doctor, right?”
“Of course, but he said you helped him get through it.” Uncle Callahan’s brow wrinkles.
“Yeah, you probably don’t want the details on that.” Omigod am I blushing? I don’t blush. What is happening?
