“You’re not angry?” I asked as he picked up the platter of raw hamburgers.
Dad scoffed. “If he was here, I’d throttle the little asshole,” he mumbled as he took the platter outside.
* * *
I rode my four-wheeler home late that night. I’d always enjoyed hanging out at my parents’ place when I had the time. Even after my mom had lost her shit in the kitchen, I’d still stayed long after dinner bullshitting with the two of them. She’d seemed to have calmed down after a little time to herself, and I was thankful.
I’d always been really sensitive to my mom’s moods. The moment I met her, I’d fallen in love with her. I’d been seven, standing on the front porch, surrounded by more trees than I’d ever seen in my life, with my social worker’s hand on my shoulder and a ratty backpack strap hanging from my hand. And when the door had opened and the small white woman with her soft smile and pretty-smelling perfume invited us in, I’d felt like I’d hit the jackpot. I’d been in a lot of foster homes by then—more than I could remember or count—but for some reason I’d felt instantly like I’d found where I belonged.
I hadn’t even minded much when her barrel-chested husband had come into the room and rubbed his hand over the small of her back in greeting. No, that was a lie. At first, I’d wanted Mike gone. The pretty lady who smelled like vanilla was mine, and I’d had a hard time watching him move around her and kiss her. I’d had few good experiences with men at that point, and the big man seemed like trouble.
As weeks had passed and I never witnessed Mike raise his voice, much less his hand, toward Ellie, he began to grow on me. I’d eventually even begun to spend time with him, tromping through the woods and fishing in the creek that ran through the property. Over time, our bond had strengthened into something that was lasting and irreplaceable.
But if I was honest with myself, even after I’d begun to call the two my parents, and even after Mike had wiped at his eyes during my adoption hearing—the first time I’d ever seen a grown man cry—my first love, and my biggest love, had always been Ellie. My mom.
So when Ellie cried, I felt it deep in my gut. When she was happy, it was like my entire body lightened until I felt like I could run for miles. I felt her emotions almost as if they were my own, and I’d spent a lifetime adjusting to her moods even though it drove her crazy. She’d never understand the way I felt about her. She couldn’t.
She’d taken in a seven-year-old boy who’d never had a damn thing in his entire life, and she’d loved him. Her love hadn’t been something I had to earn, and it had never been conditional. She loved me because I existed. It was that simple. And because it was so simple, I’d spent my life loving her back.
I think, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, my love for Mom was the reason why I couldn’t forgive Henry. Beyond the fact that he’d gotten some woman pregnant and hadn’t told me, his brother, and beyond the fact that he’d left that woman high and dry and had abandoned his child, I couldn’t forgive him for the way Ellie’s face had fallen when I’d given her the news. And I couldn’t forget that he’d made me the bearer of that news by setting it up so that his will was given to me. The little asshole.
My house was dark and quiet as I stepped inside, and I wished for the millionth time that I had a dog. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with, someone who was waiting and happy to see me when I got home. But I just couldn’t justify bringing a pup home when I was usually working late and it would be by itself all day.
I shoved out of my boots and pulled off my coat as I ambled into the living room and dropped onto the couch. Summer was coming, so there wasn’t shit on TV, but I found a new action movie that I hadn’t seen and threw my feet up on the coffee table. I needed a reprieve from the thoughts of Henry and my upcoming trip.
* * *
The next week passed in a blur of taking care of things that wouldn’t wait at work and getting my house ready to close up for a while. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be in California getting to know Henry’s little girl and her mother, but I sure as hell didn’t want to come back to a messy house and a fridge full of rotten food.