“You’re telling the truth, cuz he’s not at his mom’s either.”
“Yeah, he’s not here. Did something happen?”
“We had a fight and he left.”
“A fight?”
“He quit school.” He exhales. “I fucked up, Bishop. Bad.”
I sit back on the couch. “What happened?”
“I criticized. I told him he had no direction or passion.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, and then he told me it was my fault. He’s been trying to live up to my expectations of him for so long he has no identity of his own. He’s right.”
“Shit, man.”
“And then he just left. He didn’t tell me where he was going, but it’s been over thirty minutes and he’s not at his mom’s and he won’t answer the phone. Can you try calling him? I just want to make sure he’s okay, and I’m sure he’ll answer for you.”
“Sure, Rocco. I’ll call him.”
“Do you need his number?”
I exhale slowly, choosing not to lie. “No.”
“Bishop?”
“Yeah?”
“I need your help. I need my boy back. Can you help him understand that I love him so much, I just wanted him to have a good life? I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“Of course, Rocco. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you.”
“Any time.”
“You care about him, don’t you?”
“I care about both of you.”
“I guess you and I need to talk too.”
“Yeah. Let’s get this part figured out first. I’ll call you when I talk to him.”
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
I hang up and dial Tristan.
“Hi, Bishop.”
“Where are you?”
“Five minutes from you. Can I still come?”
