Chapter Twenty-One: The Awakening
Smoke
“This is Grandpa’s house?” Gavin asked as I pulled into the driveway and of the three-bedroom home. “Did you grow up here?”
The home larger than what I thought my dad needed, but who was I to tell him that? “No, I didn’t really grow up in one place. My dad was in the army, so we moved all the time.”
“Why?”
“It’s just the way that the military operates. It’s a mobile group, and when a soldier is relocated, so is his family.”
“My mom moved around a lot too,” Gavin said.
There was no gravity to the comment, so I assumed he didn’t know much about that time in her life. I didn’t really know much about it either, but she’d indicated that some of the foster parents she’d been placed with weren’t good people. I knew there were some good people that took in foster kids, but I got the impression she hadn’t been lucky enough to be placed with any of them.
This train of thought made me think about what she’d told me, about growing up without a family or the ability to put down roots. I didn’t always remember how lucky I was to have my parents in my life when I was younger, or to still have my dad now. He wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly better than not knowing who he was at all, like Naomi. Moving around a lot and dealing with my dad’s rigidity seemed like nothing compared to all that.
We got out of the car.
Just then, my dad stepped out onto the porch. He looked more relaxed than normal, smiling slightly as he watched Gavin and I walking toward him. It had been almost a year since I had seen him, and his hair had been mostly brown then with hints of grey coming through. Now, it was all grey, but he still kept it in its usual crew cut. He was a little heavier too, but he stood with his back ramrod straight, his arms hanging down at his sides.
“Hi, dad,” I said as we walked up the porch steps. Gavin went quiet beside me, and I was reminded of the way he’d behaved during our first meeting. He’d seemed so shy then, and the first couple of occasions when we’d spent time together, but it hadn’t taken him long to open up. It had been easy to get to know him once we reached that point.
“Hey, Jay,” my dad greeted, holding out his hand.
It felt a little awkward, shaking the man’s hand when we hadn’t seen each other in so long, but that had always been just a part of how things were between us. We didn’t do physical displays of affection. He wasn’t big on verbal ones either. I shook it, promising myself I would have a better relationship with Gavin, even when he was grown.
Oh shit, have I ever hugged my son?
I hadn’t, and I was just now realizing it. That would have to change, as soon as possible.
“And what’s your name, champ?” Dad asked, crouching with his hands on his knees to look my boy in the eye.
“Gavin,” he answered, his voice soft.
If Dad noticed his timidness, he didn’t say anything. He just held out his hand, the same as he did for me, and to my surprise, Gavin’s face lit up as he took it, giving my dad’s hand a firm, manly shake like it was some kind of rite of passage. He seemed to glean a deeper meaning from the gesture than I did.
Maybe I had underestimated the importance of such a thing all these years.
“Nice to meet you, Gavin. I’m Colonel William Campbell, but you can call me Grandpa.”
Again, Gavin’s face could have lit up a room, but I understood it this time. He had always wanted a grandpa.
We went inside and Dad offered us some sun tea.
When he went into the kitchen to get it, I looked around the living room, but not much had changed since the last time I was here. I recognized the old, beat-up recliner that had seen better days in the corner of the room. He’d had it since I was a little boy. It had moved with us from base-to-base and I could actually make out the imprint of my dad’s behind in the seat, a permanent impression after so many years.
There were a few pictures on the mantle above the fireplace, featuring my parents together and myself from birth to my teenage years. They hadn’t been updated in over a decade, and I suspected it was because my mother was the one who’d framed them, and he kept them on display as a sort of memorial to her.
Gavin took a seat beside me on the couch—black leather—tapping his foot.
“Nervous?” I asked quietly while my dad was in the other room.
He nodded. “This is the only grandpa I have. What if he doesn’t like me?”
I wondered if he had the same fear when he met me. Probably. “You know, that’s the thing about families,” I said, turning to face him fully. “They don’t just like you, they love you.”
“Always?” He looked doubtful. “Do you love me?”