38. Tj
Tj
“Thank you for coming with me today.”
Carla wraps her scarf around her neck and smiles. “Thank you for taking me.” Her lips turn downward as she takes one last look around. “I hate that you were once on the other side of these tables.”
I pull her against me and press my lips to the top of her head. “Everything I went through led me to you.”
Every Thanksgiving, I volunteer at this soup kitchen in Manhattan. Being here with Carla, serving instead of receiving, is a surreal experience. This doesn’t seem like my life. I still feel as if I should be sitting at the table, listening to one of Steve’s stories.
I clasp Carla’s hand as we walk out the door onto the sidewalk. My eyes bounce off each familiar place we pass, but I don’t allow my finger to rise up and point them out. This isn’t a happy stroll down memory lane. What would I say? “There’s the alley where I used to scrounge for half-eaten scraps for dinner,” or, “That’s the warehouse I used to shoot up in.” No. I swallow it down and remind myself that the present no longer has room for my past.
That is, until I spot him.
It’s a face I’d recognize anywhere. My spine stiffens and my feet falter, energy spiking through my veins.
“Are you okay?” Carla asks.
It’s like seeing a ghost. Unbelievable, though I’m looking right at it. Maybe my mind’s playing tricks on me. Or maybe my heart just doesn’t want to believe that he’s really here.
Could be a mirage. When’s the last time I drank water?
“Do you know that man?” Carla whispers.
Nope. Not a mirage. Carla sees him too.
My mouth opens but no sound comes out.
My eyes are fixed on him as he weaves through the crowded sidewalk. He looks exactly like the man I once knew. Only, I don’t know him at all. Not anymore.
Anxiety twists my insides as he nears, my heart pounding louder with each step he takes.
I glance down at his shoes.
Still shiny.
“Thomas?” he asks, tearing me out of my dazed stupor.
I nod, still searching for words. A boulder has lodged itself in my throat.
Woods smiles and his arms open wide.
For me.
Carla nudges me toward him until my feet remember how to move. I take three clumsy steps and then his arms are around me.
“My God, I can’t believe it’s you,” Woods says. “I’ve always wondered what happened to you. I’ve looked all over this city.”
He has?
Woods pulls away and holds me out in front of him. His face is streaked with tears. “Look at you. You’re a man now.”
Carla clears her throat. “Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee? We’re kind of taking up the sidewalk here.” She gestures at the people stepping around us.
“I’d love to, if that’s all right with you.” Woods smiles and extends his hand. “I’m Philip Woods.”
Carla turns to me, eyes like saucers, before she shakes his hand. “Woods? Oh, my God. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Carla.”
“Whaddya say?” he asks, clapping me on the back. “Got some time to sit down and catch up?”
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We walk across the street to a small café. Woods keeps looking back over his shoulder at me, like he’s afraid to let me out of his sight. I grip Carla’s hand like a lifeline.
“This is fate, baby,” Carla whispers in my ear. “Just say whatever is in your heart.”
Thank God for this woman. I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I am not ever letting go. I place a swift peck on her lips before we enter the café and find a table.
“Order whatever you both want. It’s on me,” Woods says.
“You don’t have to do that.” It’s the first coherent sentence I’m able to speak. “It’ll be my treat.”
Woods nods in understanding, a smile spreading on his face. “If you insist.”
Woods knows how much it means to me to be able to buy something for him. Even if it’s just coffee.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he says, once we’re seated with our drinks. “I have so many questions.”
I inhale a deep breath and Carla squeezes my knee under the table. “I was so angry at you for so long. You were the only person I had back then. All I wanted was for you to say you’d take me in. I often think about how different my life would’ve been had I lived with you.”
“I’m so sorry, Thomas. I—”
“It’s TJ.”
“TJ. Of course.” Woods sips his coffee and for the first time, I can see how nervous he is. His hand trembles lifting the cup to his lips. His eyes dart between me and Carla, leg bouncing under the table. You’d never guess he was a badass detective.
“I wish you could know how hard I tried to fight for you to live with me. My wife and I were trying to have kids of our own at that time, and she didn’t think it was a good idea to take in a teenager. I tried, because I wanted you to be with me. I always did. I hated watching you go through the things you experienced with your father beating on your mom all those times I was called to your house. And I hated watching you continue to suffer in foster home after foster home. I wish there was something more I could’ve done.”
“I get it. I really do. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t your fault.” I avert my eyes from his, staring into my coffee as if it could give me strength for this conversation. “I blamed you when I should’ve blamed myself.”
Woods shakes his head. “No. You didn’t ask for that life. You didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
“I know that now,” I say. “But I made some poor choices. I chose heroin and whiskey. I chose to let my anger rule my life. I got mixed up with the wrong people.”
“What happened after you walked out of the precinct that day? Where did you go?”
Now I’m the one overcome with nerves. I’m embarrassed to tell Woods the truth. Embarrassed of myself. But I tell him everything.
Carla wipes her eyes several times as I recount my life, and soon enough I’m handing napkins to Woods too.
“I’m sorry about Reggie,” Woods says.
“Me too.”
“You know, I checked every hospital and obituary. Not a day went by without wondering where you were. I always hoped to run into you on the street. Always hoped you were doing better.”
Carla rests her head on my shoulder. “He is doing so much better than you can imagine.”
“I can see that,” Woods says with a smile. “He seems lucky to have someone like you in his life.”
I gaze down at her just to watch the blush creep onto her cheeks. “What about you? How’s your wife?”
“She’s well.” His eyes drop to the table. “We had our son a year after I last saw you.”
“Congratulations. That’s great news.”
His eyes flick back up to mine. “Named him Thomas.”
“You did?”
Carla’s reaching for a napkin again.
“I’m proud of you, kid. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help shape you into the man you are now. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you.”
“I forgive you,” I say, choking back tears. “And I hope you can forgive me.”
“You know I do.” His smile falls. “And I know you don’t like to talk about him, but I am sorry about your father. He did an awful thing, but I know what it feels like to lose both your parents, and it isn’t easy.”
Carla sits up ramrod straight. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes narrow. “Your father … you don’t know?”
I shake my head. “Know what?”
“Your father passed away last month.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’d call the jail every once in a while and ask if your old man had any visitors. I was looking for you. A corrections officer, a buddy of mine, said he died. Liver cancer.”
I raise my cup. “Good.”
“Figured you’d feel that way.” Woods checks the time on his watch. “Listen, I can’t stay much longer. But I’d like to do this again. Maybe we can exchange numbers.” He shrugs. “Make it a regular thing like old times. If you don’t want to—”
“We’d love to,” Carla says.
I laugh at her eagerness. “Yes. We’d love to.”
“I have a confession.”
I slip under the comforter and lean against the headboard. “Come lay with me.”
Carla wrings her hands together as she paces at the foot of my bed. “I think you’re going to be mad.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Does this confession have anything to do with Joe?”
“God no.” She shakes her head. “Nothing to do with him.”
“Okay. Then I won’t be mad.”
She grimaces and climbs onto the bed. “You won’t know that until after you hear my confession.”
I stroke her face and press a kiss to her lips. “Talk to me. I promise I won’t be mad.”
“Remember when you received that letter from your dad’s jail?”
“Yes.”
“Remember how you threw it in the garbage?”
“Yes.”
“Well … I may or may not have taken it out of the garbage and saved it for you.” Her hands slap against her face as she covers her eyes. “Please don’t hate me!”
I struggle to keep a straight face and slide her body closer to me. “And did you read this letter?”
She peeks out from behind her hands. “No. I swear.”
“So why keep it?”
“I didn’t want you to regret not opening it. But now that he’s gone, it might help give you some closure.”
“Do you have the letter with you?”
“It’s in my notebook.”
“Good thing I haven’t read your journal lately or I’d have found it.”
“Lately?”
I chuckle and reach for her purse on her nightstand.
Her nightstand. Love the sound of that.
I flip through her notebook until I find the envelope. Handing it to her I say, “Go ahead. Read it.”
“You want me to read it?”
“Sure. Tell me if there’s anything important in there, like some inheritance I don’t know about.” I cross my arms behind my head and close my eyes.
“Can I read it out loud?”
“Sure, babe. Whatever you want.”
She clears her throat as she unfolds the letter. “To My Son—”
I crack up laughing.
“TJ,” she says. “This is serious. Let me read it before you say anything.”
“Fine. Please continue.”
“To My Son.”She glares at me over the top of the letter.
I mimic zipping my lips and smirk.
“I’ve been wanting to write you this letter for many years, but to be honest I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I’m not sure what you want to hear.
Do you want an apology? I’ll give you one.
Will that make everything better? Not one bit.
Do you want me to say I’m a horrible human being? We both know I am.
Would it make you feel better to hear that I’ve suffered immensely for my sins? Because I have.
The bottom line is: There isn’t anything I can say in this letter to make up for what I’ve done. I killed the only woman who ever loved me. I killed the mother of my child. I put my son through unspeakable hell. I failed you. I failed her.
I failed myself.
I know I can’t make you understand why I did what I did. Even I don’t understand it. My therapist says that’s what happens when you have an addiction. It controls you and you become someone you didn’t even know you were capable of being.
I wish I could’ve been stronger. I wish I could’ve fought the cravings. Most of all, I wish I could go back. I never meant to hurt your mom. I never meant to hurt you.
But I did. So nothing I say makes a difference.
I’m dying, son. I’m not writing this letter for your sympathy. I’m writing simply to tell you goodbye. Maybe you’ll sleep better knowing I finally got the painful death I deserve. Or maybe you don’t think about me at all.
I think about you every day. I wonder what your life is like. I wonder what kind of man you’ve grown into. I wonder if you still look like me.
If you carry any ill feelings towards me, please, let them go. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. All I’m asking is that you let the past go. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy to do after what you witnessed. But the past is an anchor holding you back from moving forward. I don’t want you tethered to it.
Goodbye.
-Dad
Carla drops the letter onto the mattress and wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Wow. That was so …”
“Pointless?” I say.
“I was going to say real. He wasn’t begging for forgiveness. He wasn’t asking for anything. He just wanted you to lay it all to rest.” She sniffles. “That was pretty incredible.”
I shrug and toss the letter onto the floor. “For the record, I’m not mad at you for stealing the letter.”
She snuggles against me and a small sigh leaves her lips. “What a crazy day. I can’t believe we ran into Woods.”
“I can’t believe his name is Philip.”
She giggles. “He named his son after you.”
“I know. Crazy, huh?”
“Not crazy. Just another testament to how much of an impact you have on everyone.”
We’re quiet for a while, lost in our own thoughts.
“Carla?”
“Mhmm.”
“I can see it all with you, you know. Everything I never thought I’d get the opportunity to have.”
She nuzzles my neck and inhales. “Well, I don’t care what happens as long as I’m with you.”
“You don’t want to make a plan?”
I feel her grin against my skin. “Nope. I don’t need one.”
The End