Nate’s back went up. “So now it’s my fault?”
“What can I say? It’s certainly not mine.”
Nate realised he was getting nowhere, that their discussion was pointless.
“If either of you think I’m about to join in with your game, you can think again. I mean it, Bruce.”
The sudden silence on the line confirmed that that had been his intention all along.
“Shit, man. When I asked for your help I told you there’d better be no funny business.”
“Nate, mate. You’ve got this all wrong.”
What else was Bruce going to say? He’d always been a manipulative bastard, there was only Nate’s mother who couldn’t see it. He clamped down on his jaw before he said something he’d regret, as angry at himself as he was at him.
“You are still in though, aren’t you? You’re not pulling out on me? I mean I did stick to my side of the bargain.”
Hearing the panic in Bruce’s voice was of little comfort. Unlike him, Nate had always been a man of his word. “I said I’d do it, didn’t I?”
Rufus barked, but Nate continued to stand there, wrapped up in contemplation. He knew deep down that it was too easy to blame Bruce for this situation; hell, he could even blame Brenda if he wanted to. But he, alone, had to take credit, for thinking he could keep his past hidden come what may, buried away like some dirty secret. Maybe he was more like his mother than he cared to admit. Like her, he’d run away from his problems, instead of facing up to them.
A knock on the door made Rufus bark even louder and, glad of the reprieve from his thoughts, Nate turned. “Quiet, boy.” Wondering who it could be, he wasn’t expecting any visitors.
Opening the door, he immediately froze and unable to find his voice he stared at the person in front of him. “Lenny,” he eventually said.
“In the flesh.”
Nate swallowed hard. It didn’t matter that his aunt had suggested something like this might happen, the man’s presence still came as a shock and he continued to stand there, rooted to the spot.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Remaining silent, Nate stepped aside. Almost on automatic pilot as he allowed his unwanted guest over the threshold, his mind raced as it tried to catch up with what was happening.
Nate had often played this moment out in his head, deciding what he’d say and do if he ever came face-to-face with Lenny again. He’d tell him exactly what he thought of his disappearing act all those years earlier, then explain how, as a child, Nate had blamed himself for it. He’d outline how he’d spent days, weeks and months looking back on his own behaviour, trying to pinpoint the exact action or word that had made Lenny walk out. Because in his younger mind, it had to have been his fault. Why else would Lenny not even bother to say goodbye? Nate swallowed again. Being honest, the little boy inside of him still thought he was responsible, no matter how much Nate the adult insisted otherwise.
He watched Lenny take position in the centre of the room and observed him absorb his surroundings. The man looked surprisingly well. Not just sober, but healthy. He was also a lot smarter in appearance than Nate remembered. His hair was neat and cut short, not like back in the day when it fell into a scruffy mess below his shoulders. The tight jeans had been replaced with a more comfortable and less revealing fit. Getting older suited him. It was more than his image that had changed though. Standing there, he seemed humbler, and he even had the decency to appear as awkward about this situation as Nate felt.
“Nice place,” Lenny said.
Nate recalled the plush interior of his childhood home. This was nothing like it.
“I admire you,” Lenny carried on, failing to disguise the nervous edge to his voice. “Sometimes I think of escaping myself, disappearing.”
Nate folded his arms across his chest, wedging his feet hard against the floor. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” he replied, in no mood for small talk.
Lenny shot him a pained look. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“What do you expect? More to the point, what do you want?”
“Straight talking, I like that.”
Nate didn’t care whether he liked it or not.
His guest indicated to a chair at the table. “May I?”
Nate nodded.
Taking a seat, Lenny rested his arms on the table and clasped his hand. “In answer to your question,” he said, forced to clear his throat. “I’m here to make sure you’re okay. And to say I’m sorry.”
