By the time I pull into my old neighborhood, I feel as if the whole town knows I’ve rolled in. Their prodigal son. The one who hurt his high school sweetheart and ducked out of town before I could pay for my sins. I get a few stares, and a few people who definitely recognize me stop to wave. I can’t help my gaze from wandering over to Lyric’s old house. The place looks closed up and I wonder if her parents even live there anymore. Dad’s house has the lights on inside and another car I don’t recognize is parked in the driveway already.
I get out and walk up the front path like I have hundreds of times before. The old flower bushes have been taken out and replaced with rock and flower pots. Where my old boards and bike rack used to be now sits one of those raised garden beds. Everything is familiar and different at the same time. I can hear noise inside, the sound of pots rattling and feet shuffling around. Emotion lodges itself deep in my throat. Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be. At the door, I hesitate; my hand half-raised, unsure if I should knock or just go right in. Considering the old man swore at me and told me to never come back all those years ago, I choose to knock instead.
When the door swings open, it feels like someone took a boulder and threw it at my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs and piercing my internal organs. Brown eyes stare back at me.
His brown eyes.
My eyes.
My mind is thrown back to a time where the other person with those eyes smiled and threw me one more pass, promising to take the rap for us being late to the dinner table.
“Hey, Uncle Colt.” AJ stands before me, tall, almost as tall as me, looking just like his dad, except for Caitlyn’s black hair.
I can’t speak or move. He’s the spitting image of the one person I’d wished I had around throughout the years to go to for advice. The one person I needed when things fell apart at home. My brother that I prayed to every time I wasn’t sure if I would make it back home from deployments. Every time I ran into danger, rather than away, I felt his protection, his presence shouting for me to keep moving. It was my dream of him that stopped me from volunteering for the mission Tric was on.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Dad’s gruff voice says from over by the kitchen area, and instantly pulls me back to reality. I blink, my fingers pressing to my eyes.
“Sorry,” I mumble and move to step around the kid, who clearly isn’t a kid anymore, and into the home I ran from. The home that held more painful memories than good. My eyes must be misogynists because right away they seek out the fireplace mantel where Alex and my mom’s shrine should be. A shield slides up to protect my heart only to falter instead.
Alex’s folded flag is still there in its wooden box, along with Mom’s picture. The frames are clear, clean and not a speck of dust coats them. It’s then that I see my picture from basic training that’s next to them. My pictures and accomplishments never made it on the mantel when I lived here. I never deservedthe spot of honor that would have been taken up. Next to mine is AJ dressed in a high school baseball uniform, and he looks so much like his dad that my chest squeezes. I’ve missed so much of him growing up.
“You play baseball?” slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“He’s going to play for Vanderbilt in a couple years,” Dad answers, his words dripping with pride.
My gaze swings to AJ, who looks uncomfortable with the praise. His shoulders lift in a shrug. “My ma said the first thing I learned once I could stand was to throw a ball. Guess I got it from my dad.”
“You look like him too,” I reply, wondering where the hell my filter went. Thoughts become words and pass my lips without my permission.
“That’s what I keep hearing,” he says, eyes looking down like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Not that I blame him. He was little the last time I visited him.
“Dinner is ready if you want to have a seat,” Dad interjects, saving us all from these agonizing moments of awkwardness.
I walk to the table, and my eyes widen. “You cooked?”
Dad’s eyes roll and he huffs, “I’ve been taking a class or two the past couple of years. Wanted to have more than barbeque or pizza available if you boys ever showed up.”
“You took a cooking class?” I scoff. The man never took care of himself and we lived off frozen meals when Mom died.
Dad stays quiet and so does AJ, while he passes the dishes around. I’m handed something that looks like eggplant in parmesan, a platter of chicken with mushroom sauce next, and a salad bowl last. Each helping onto my plate makes my blood boil. I keep my mouth clamped shut this time though, while AJ fills my dad in on the classes he’s taking.
“You two do this often?” I grit out, my fork gripped tightly between my fingers. This isn’t about me being upset about their relationship. It has to do with the fact that Dad made all these changes and never shared with me that he’s been close to AJ.
After Alex passed, we saw AJ only a handful of times before Mom passed away. After that, Caitlyn refused to bring him around when my dad became a drunk with a shit-poor personality. I purposefully stayed away from him, so we didn’t ruin his life. I didn’t even know if the kid knew who I was or would remember me, so even as an adult I never searched him out on social media.
“I got sober about a year after you left. I worked hard, Colt, to make peace with the shitty father I was, and knew I wanted to change. I reached out to Caitlyn a few years after that and she slowly started bringing AJ around for short visits. I wrote you about it,” Dad explains, his hands folded in front of him on the table, his head and eyes lowered. I’ve never seen this man cower in on himself. He has never admitted his mistakes or talked about the issues we had when I was growing up. AJ’s eyes bounce back and forth between us, his shoulders starting to tense.
“I didn’t read them,” I answer, swallowing my own shame. I purposefully pushed him further away, resentful of how things were left between us and damn angry about how I grew up.
“I can’t say I blame you there, son.” Dad rubs his hands together, clearing his throat. “I never heard back from you, but I learned from Zane’s parents that you were in Iraq a few times, South Korea, then were stationed out in Texas again. Moving around so much must make it hard to get mail too.”
“Pops filled me in on your career,” AJ interjects, trying to ease the mood at the table. “I feel like I know you without actually remembering much. I also know about your footballdays. I think the football coach was bummed when I decided to play baseball instead.”
I can’t fight the grin that tips my lips at that one. My eyes rake over my nephew. A young man I never had the chance to see grow up. “I’m glad you’re here, kid.”
He smiles and looks at my dad. “I told you a meal would help.”
I shake my head at both of them and we finish up eating. I laugh harder than I have in a long time. AJ’s stories of high school and antics his mom is up to in order to spend more time with him keep us rolling. He and my dad have an easiness to their relationship and I realize I’m actually grateful the old man has had someone around him while I’ve been gone. I’ll never have that with him, not with the history between us. Even if I could forgive his awful parenting, I’ll never forget the way he spoke to me and wished I was dead rather than my brother.
