I interrupted. “Get the other gift, Oliver.” I wasn’t going to let him chicken out.
“Are you withholding my presents, Eaglet? Perhaps I should make a house rule about it.”
“No. Darry said it was lame. It is.”
“Darius also thinks my choice in music is lame. I listen to it anyway because I don’t care about what he thinks when he’s being an ass.” I was treated to a stare that held all the promise of the lecture I got later.
Oliver scrambled off the bed and retrieved the blue bag. He leaned against the bed near Silas with the same worry between his brows he had when we’d been shopping.
Silas pulled out the white plaque with Oliver’s hand pressed into it. A hush fell over the room. “Oliver. This is incredibly special. I’ll keep it forever.”
Oliver was nervous again. Almost jittery as Silas looked it over, washing a hand overtop to feel the imprint of Oliver’s. On the back, it said “Eaglet” with the year.
“The teacher helped me spell that,” he said. “Everyone else was supposed to put son, but I’m not your son. I didn’t want to put brother for today. That’s just stupid.”
I hadn’t even looked at the back. I was an ass.
Silas was lost for words, in a good way, but it wasn’t something six-year-olds understood so he found some. “Eagles are at the top of the food chain. It’s only natural for you to engrave something even better than the word ‘son’. Thank you, Oliver. I’ll treasure this.”
Oliver was into it now. “And … and we’re making you breakfast in bed. Darry said we should. Darry will you come help me, please?”
I was already putting on a shirt. Silashatedfood in bed. I was looking forward to watching him live through that torture.
“You have to stay here, okay? Maybe read your book,” Oliver suggested, taking over the festivities.
Silas was amused. “I’ll stay put, but I’m going back to sleep. I refuse to be awake this early on a Sunday until I have a strong cup of coffee in my hand.”
ChapterForty
Oliver ~ May 24th, 2009
My eyes popped open at five am as they do every year on my birthday. Julius was dead to the world, so I reached for the book and spent the past three hours reading. I feel better that things are better and thathe’sdead.
Today, I’m the age Silas was when he got the trust. I feel so young. Silas raised a child, was working full-time, had put himself through school, and then began building his business at twenty-five.
It’s eight am, but Julius is still asleep. Maybe he’d like to be woken up via cock sucking? I can’t do it. He’s exhausted. He’s been working overtime and if he can sleep, I want to let him sleep. I toy with the idea of reading just one more chapter, fingering the pages.
There’s a corner folded over on one of the pages at the back. I flip to it. It’s Silas’s hand—perfect Randall script—and the date is yesterday’s.
I read:
Dear Oliver,
As I read over Darius and Simon’s words, I understand what I fool I’ve been. You didn’t want “a” Father, you wanted me to tell you I was your father.
I told everyone else—the school, the hospital, my therapist, my friends, the family, even myself—but never you.
That’s a Level Four Silas at best, maybe even only a Level Two—I’ll let you tell me.
When I pulled you out of that car seat when you were brought home from the hospital that’s when I became your father. It wasn’t the traditional way but it’s still valid.
I wasn’t given a lot of choices growing up. I often had to make the least worst choice from a list of horrific ones. I never wanted that for you. I realize now that I thought you accepting me as your father would be you doing that—accepting the least worst choice, me, because I was the only one lying around and it was better than having no one at all.
Which is ridiculous. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but never with you. Even when I’ve gone overboard protecting you. I would have regretted my choices more if I hadn’t. I have never given you less than my very best and I won’t stop until my job is done—in which case, then and only then, will I lower myself into molten steel.
That’s the mark of an outstanding father.
And so, I’m your father whether you like it or not. I have earned the honor and it’s a damn good choice to make. You’d be foolish to turn down a dad who can protect you from a T-1000.
