On every single tape,Evelynhad been covered over, and Frank had writtenAdaminstead. The man had actually taken the time to go back through Adam's life and validate his son's identity, all without telling Adam that he'd done so. And probably all without assuming Adam might ever so much as glance at those tapes again. Frank had done it for himself. Of course, it could have simply been a way for the man to get used to the idea of his little girl becoming a boy, but John had a feelingit was more than that. Adam had been Frank's entire world, and those rewritten labels proved it.
“It feels like a sign, you know?” Adam went on. He sniffed and wiped roughly at his cheeks, but more tears came as he laughed. “I mean, I know it's not. It's not like he came back from the dead and did this. He obviously did it before he died. But it feels like a message. That he really would have forgiven me. Like he wants me to be happy and have the surgery and beAdamwithout guilt.” Adam paused, his smile dimming. “Or does that sound stupid?”
“No,” John gasped. He set the tapes back in the box and grabbed Adam instead. “No, baby. That doesn't sound stupid at all.” John swallowed hard as a pang of envy hit him square in the chest. “You know how much your dad loved you. He would never have blamed you for his death. I'm certain of it.”
Adam smiled again, then he gasped as his smile turned into a grin. “Oh my god. Six days!” He threw his arms around John. “Holy shit. I can't wait.”
John held him, his chest feeling tight. On one hand, he was happy beyond words for his boy. Adam deserved this. Deserved to be free of the weight of the guilt he'd been carrying around for almost a decade.
But on the other hand, John couldn't help feeling like he'd lost some ground. Not just one step back, but a flying leap.
He didn't believe in signs, but a part of him desperately wished that Frank would give him one of his own.
That thought plagued him all weekend as he helped Adam start to clear out the apartment. With the stacks of boxes taking over the dining room, John knew they'd have to haul those away first so they could make some space, so he looked up the nearest donation center and discovered they were open on weekends, after all. Same with a place that accepted documents for shredding. They started with the latter, loading all of Frank'sold business files into John's truck on Saturday morning. Once those were dropped off, they went back and started bringing out the rest, piling boxes of clothing, kitchenware, and more into the truck bed.
While John hauled that load across town, Adam took pictures of the furniture with which he was willing to part. The boy got listings up on local market sites, deciding to give it all away for free rather than selling it. By the time Sunday evening rolled around, all the furniture in the third bedroom was gone. In the midst of all that happening, John helped Adam go through the rest of the boxes in that room, checking the contents before deciding whether they'd stay or go.
And Adam never stopped smiling through the whole process. He looked so unburdened that it simply took John's breath away. Adam was able to let go of a lot of things, but he kept the truly sentimental items. Photo albums, of course. And the box of VHS tapes, even though Adam didn't have a machine that could play them. When they came across a box of framed photographs, Adam broke down and cried again. Especially when he found a picture of himself and his dad at his high school graduation. Adam sobbed, staring at his dad's proud face, the last image captured of the man before he died just a few short weeks later.
But all of Adam's tears were happy ones.
“Is it weird that I feel like I've gotten a part of him back even though all his stuff is gone?” Adam asked, hugging the framed picture to his chest as he stood in the middle of the empty room at the end of the hallway. The few boxes that he'd kept were now in his bedroom closet, while a couple of the other framed pictures had found their way to the walls or tabletops about the apartment.
John looked at Adam. The boy had absolutely transformed over the course of the weekend. All the weight was gone from his shoulders. Even standing there, clinging to that picture, Adamlooked so incredibly light and free, John almost wondered if the boy might simply float away.
Somehow, it made his own burden feel heavier.
“Maybe I'll try to find a VHS player,” Adam went on with a big smile on his face. They had unearthed one from the mess in that third room, but when they plugged it in and hooked it up to Adam's TV, the machine made a horrific noise. Adam hadn't wanted to risk popping in a tape in case it got ruined, so the player had joined thediscardpile. “Then I can hear his voice.”
John winced. A part of him was tempted to offer that voicemail message on his phone again, but he stopped himself. Adam still wouldn't want to hear his dad in anger. Especially not after the joy he'd found after discovering those tapes. And even though John knew he needed to finally man-up and listen to the message himself, he couldn't find the strength to do it.
Come on, Frank. Give me something.
John inwardly cursed. Frank wasn't going to give him a sign. He knew that. Somehow, he was going to have to let go of the past all on his own.
But that was easier said than done.
“What do you want for dinner?” Adam asked, cutting into John's thoughts. “Shit. I probably need groceries.” Adam laughed. “But I'm sure I can come up with something.” He headed for the kitchen, and John slowly followed. “Or we can order in?” Adam asked over his shoulder. He reached the kitchen, set the picture frame on the dining table, and started hunting through the refrigerator. “Oh! Chicken and roasted vegetables? I can get started while you take a shower.”
John blinked, feeling like his brain was being slow to catch up. Normally, it would be John himself suggesting that Adam start cooking while he went to take a shower, but Adam had beat him to it. John was just about to agree—if for no other reason than to give himself a few moments of privacy to relax and tryto clear his head—but then he realized he hadn't been home for days and didn't have any clean clothes with him.Christ. For that matter, he suddenly couldn't remember the last time he'd done chores at home or bought groceries or paid his bills.That was last weekend, right?John inwardly cursed. He had no idea.
Who's the hot mess now?
Adam closed the refrigerator. “You wanna go home, don't you?”
John sighed. “I'm sorry, baby. Yeah. I need clothes for work tomorrow. I don't remember the last time I did laundry.”
He fully expected Adam to offer washing the clothes that he had there. Either that, or ask if they could go stay the night at John's place instead. John was about to make the latter suggestion himself, but Adam said, “You're probably dying for some alone time, aren't you? I'm so sorry. You probably feel like you've been stuck here, taking care of me.”
John's heart clenched. He crossed the room and grabbed Adam's head with both hands. “Not stuck,” he insisted, then blew out a heavy breath. “But, yeah. I really could use a night at home.” John barely paused before he added, “If you want to go pack a bag–”
Adam shook his head. “I'll be fine.”
John studied Adam's eyes. “You sure?” he asked, but he didn't need Adam to reply. The answer was right there on the boy's face. In those stunning grey eyes, so clear of grief and guilt.
So John gathered up his overnight bag full of dirty clothes and took himself home.
As much as he hated fast food, he stopped at a drive-thru on the way, just so he wouldn't have to scramble for dinner. Once he reached his house, he could barely figure out where to start. He began to carry all his stuff inside, then paused as he passed the laundry machines, setting everything down so he could dump the contents of his overnight bag into the washer. Except he wassure there were more clothes in his hamper, so he continued inside and went to grab that. When he came back out, he found the takeout bag still sitting on the dryer. Despite being hungry, he'd forgotten all about it.
