Tommy
stood outside Cal’s apartment. The hall was a little dingy, a little narrow, but the building wasn’t too run-down, and the neighbors were mostly families with kids rather than whatever had been imaging. He’d discussed it with Judy, who of course thought it was a good idea. The kids need to see him outside of their own context. And, It’ll be good for them. Good for Cal, too, because he’ll hopefully remember if he ever feels himself slipping.
Yeah, right. Cal had lived with them on and off for more than twenty years, and that never helped keep him sober.
knocked on the door, three quick raps that were more like punches than anything else. He’d tried to get Judy to come along since she thought the whole thing was such a great idea, but she’d insisted it should be . Colleen didn’t come. Said she had a shift after classes, but was willing to bet she wouldn’t have joined them anyway.
“Right on time,” Cal said as he opened the door. Cheerful. Nervous. Seemed sober, though, so there was that.
“Yeah, we tend to keep our word,” said. He hadn’t meant it as a jab. Or, not entirely, anyway. He went in with Max in his arms. Even at five years old, he still liked to be carried sometimes.
“Hi, Pop,” Max said as set him down.
Carrie pushed past , holding Zoe’s hand, both of them smiling at Cal, who patted Zoe’s head.
“How was school?” he asked, stepping back to let everyone in.
Davey took up the rear with Collin. Neither of them answered, just glanced around the small apartment.
Zoe bounced on her toes and dashed toward the window, where about fifteen different plants sat on makeshift shelves. “We had a party and a movie today,” she said, inspecting each of the plants. “This one’s pretty,” she said.
Only one? There were nearly fifty of the damn things. Cal’s apartment was a fucking jungle. wouldn’t have minded it from anyone else, but all he could think about—for some stupid reason—was the time his father had knocked over Carrie’s little potted plant and nearly killed it. Seeing Cal with so much life around him made grit his teeth.
“That’s an African violet, Zoe.” Cal went to the stove and stirred something that smelled like spaghetti sauce, talking over his shoulder. “I’m trying to nurse it back to health.” He looked at and explained, “When the plants on the half-off shelf don’t sell down at the garden center, my boss lets me take them. They’re usually in pretty bad shape, but I do my best.”
For plants. Good to know he could do his best for something.
“They look real good,” Carrie said as she came into the kitchen. “Need any help with dinner?”
“Would you like to make a salad? Can you do that?”
Carrie rolled her eyes at the question. She’d been helping in the kitchen since she was younger than Max and Zoe. Not that Cal would know that.
“I can help too,” Max said as he followed after her. They went to work, pulling ingredients from the fridge like they lived there.
Collin and Davey still hadn’t said anything, and wasn’t too surprised. He didn’t like talking to their father either. But something about the way they kept looking at him and then Cal made wonder what the real reason was.
Then it struck him.
Loyalty.
The look on Collin’s face told he wanted to pitch in, too, or ask Cal questions, but he was holding back.
If he had to guess—which he did, really— would say Davey and Collin weren’t making themselves comfortable or chitchatting with their father because was there. He loved them a little more for it, but Judy’s voice was like a fucking alarm in his head. “Anything I can do?” he asked, trying to set aside his misgivings and do what was best for the kids. Though, what was best for them in this situation was debatable, in ’s opinion. They’d all gotten used to Cal coming over for family stuff or random dinners. The kids had gotten comfortable with him at Judy’s. Chummy, even. But this was new territory for everyone.
“I think we’ve got everything under control,” Cal said, stirring the spaghetti sauce. “I don’t have enough plates and silverware for everyone, but I picked up some paper plates and plasticware if you want to set the table?”
Calling it a table was a stretch. Cal had taken a bunch of pallets and improvised a table. The kind that someone who drinks wine and wears designer shoes would hire someone to make so their trendy loft would have character, but when stuffed into a too-small apartment and set with paper plates and plastic forks just looked cramped and sad. But Christ knew it wasn’t the worst place the kids had ever eaten. “Sure, Pop,” said as he grabbed everything and started setting it all out. “Make yourself useful and get some drinks for the kids,” he told Davey, who practically jumped.
“There’s soda, and I have a little bit of milk, I think.”
“No soda,” said, slightly sharper than he’d meant.
Davey filled cups with water from the tap, and Collin filled two cups with the last of Cal’s milk.
“I should’ve thought of that,” Cal said quietly. “Bad for their teeth.”
Yeah, he should’ve thought of that. Should’ve thought of a lot of things. But then Bobby popped into his head, right along with Judy. He’s trying, they said. He’s doing okay, all things considered, they said.
They said a lot of things, but this one pissed off. He tried not to let it show, though.
When the time came to sit down and eat, Cal had to pull three old plastic chairs in from his microscopic deck—which was also covered in plants and climbing vines.
Even with the extra chairs, Zoe had to sit on ’s lap and Max on Davey’s, but they all managed.
“Do you say grace?” Cal asked.
’s mouth nearly fell open, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring. “Do you?”
“Not a traditional grace, no, but I do usually pause and reflect over the food and let myself be grateful for a moment before I eat.” Cal shrugged. “I’m trying it out, but it’s helping me stay focused on good things.”
“Don’t let us stop ya,” said dismissively. “Reflect away.”
He reached for the salad and got a serving together for Zoe and himself, then passed the bowl down. Cal paused and reflected. forced himself not to roll his eyes. Dinner might kill one of them, but couldn’t guess which.
“The sauce is good, Pop,” Collin said around a mouthful of food.
hated to admit it, but Collin was right. “Yeah,” he said, and Zoe nodded her head in agreement.
Cal looked pleased but not smug. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. “I grow my own tomatoes out on the deck in the summertime, and the herbs too. I think it makes a difference.”
Time to play around with plants and grow his own food. Must be nice. And why was it every word that came out of Cal’s mouth made want to stab him with his plastic fork? Anyone else in the world and would be happy for them, or at least not actively wishing they’d choke on one of their homegrown tomatoes.
took another bite and hated himself for wanting to ask for the recipe. He cooked dinner more often than not for the kids and, watching the way Collin—his pickiest eater—put it away, thought even Judy would like it. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He did take a long, hard assessment of his old man, though. He looked good. Better than had ever seen him. He’d been looking better and better since that first and only visit had made to see him in rehab. Clean-shaven, eyes clear and bright green—not unlike ’s own. His hair had a lot more gray in it than it used to, but Cal kept it cropped short and tidy. Even under his nails was clean, which was a surprise given all the plants. He had the lights on, a roof over his head, food in his cupboards… He really was doing okay. Doing better than had hoped. Hell, he was doing better than insisted he do in order to see the kids. Not homeless and not blitzed wasn’t a very high bar, but Cal had vaulted over it, and goddamn it all, had to give him some credit for that.
Even if he still hated him and still kind of hoped he walked in front of a bus sooner rather than later.
“Place looks good, Pop,” he said quietly. Then, costing him a lot, he added, “Glad you’re doin’ good.” Was he? Glad? Maybe not. But maybe in some way, he was. If he was going to be in the kids’ lives at all, even on the periphery, yeah, was glad. Because even if he couldn’t have had the kind of father who cooked dinner and grew herbs and vegetables and looked at his drawings and patted his head and asked him to help in the kitchen and whatever the fuck else this impersonator of their father did, was glad the kids could have it. Even if it was only once a week, only supervised, only on ’s terms. Because not even Judy argued on Cal’s behalf when it came to the supervised part.
Thank Christ.
“Thanks, son,” Cal said after he took a sip of his water. He met ’s eye, and the expression there made wonder if it was costing Cal something too. To look him in the eye. “I’ve been trying. I can’t make up for anything, but I can at least not… I can be the kind of person you guys might like to know.”
A million shitty things danced on the tip of ’s tongue, but instead, he said, “That’s good.” And somehow, he made it sound like a compliment rather than a commentary.
After dinner, they played a few rounds of cards and ate one cookie each—which Cal had baked. And even those tasted pretty fucking good.
When it came time to leave, Max and Zoe gave him a hug, Carrie waved and smiled for him. Collin and Davey only nodded, but when Cal handed Davey a sack with the rest of the cookies and told him to make sure Judy and Bobby got some, Davey had thanked him and flashed him a conflicted smile—one that could see from a mile off because it was the same one and Colleen and Mike always had when their father was doing good for a short stretch and doing something nice and right and fun. Because they all loved those times. They all waited around for those times. But when they came, it was almost more painful than the everyday bullshit of living with an alcoholic and his drug-addict wife because you always knew what to expect from a drunk or someone too high to remember their own name. But fun and nice and kind and thoughtful were short-lived and losing it all over again, every time, hurt like a motherfucker. Until they all gave up and stopped hoping for it.
And maybe that was what Davey and Collin were going through. Too young to remember their father when he was still somewhere in the drop zone of decent, this was all new to them and maybe even scary, maybe even hopeful. had the hope beaten out of him years ago, but not those two. Not Max or Zoe or Carrie either.
So, yeah. Now it really mattered to that his old man stay clean and sober, and that, well, that just pissed him off. Because it scared the shit out of him.
“Maybe we can do this again sometime,” Cal said as he walked them to the car. A nice newish little SUV that was making payments on. Big enough to fit almost all of them. Something that ran and had seat belts and brakes and tread on the tires. A fucking miracle compared to their old station wagon.
“Yeah, maybe,” said as he watched Max and Zoe buckle themselves into their booster seats. “Thanks for having us over,” he added awkwardly.
Cal ran a hand through his hair and glanced down before meeting ’s eye again. “You’re all welcome here anytime. Day or night.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said. But he wouldn’t. He’d never just drop in on his old man. And if he did, it probably wouldn’t end well.
“Tell Colleen and Mike hello for me when you talk to them.” Cal cleared his throat. “I don’t hear from them much, but Judy says they’re doing great and Colleen is thinking about becoming a counselor?”
“Therapist, yeah.” Because a shrink in the family was exactly what they all needed.
Cal smiled at that. “That’s incredible. I’m glad she’s finding her way.”
No thanks to Cal. Or maybe it was thanks to him. If Colleen hadn’t been through so much shit, she might not feel the need to go into other people’s trauma just to sort out her own. Not that that was the whole reason for her career path, but thought it was at least partly for that. “She’s workin’ real hard,” said, holding back every other thought as he tried to get into the car, drive away, not look back. “I better get home, get the twins to bed,” he said, nodding at the car, everyone buckled inside.
“Yeah, of course. Good to see you tonight.”
And for one horrifying moment, thought Cal was going to lean in and hug him. Instead, he made an aborted effort at a handshake before finally stepping back. He hadn’t hugged his father since his and Bobby’s wedding day a couple of years back, but had been half-drunk on champagne and happiness and Bobby that night. He had no intentions of making a habit out of hugs with anyone, let alone his old man.
“See ya around, Pop. Thanks for dinner.”
Cal walked around to the sidewalk and didn’t go back inside, just watched and waved as they made their escape.
“Please tell me we don’t have to do that again anytime soon,” Davey said, his breath dumping out of him in a sharp sigh.
Zoe turned to look at him. “I like his plants.”
“Me too,” Carrie said.
Max piped up then. “His spaghetti is better than ’s.”
gripped the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles turning white.
Collin ate another cookie. watched him in the mirror but didn’t say anything. Mostly because what he wanted to say would probably be the wrong thing. Instead, he tried to let the kids sort out their feelings on their own. Which was a lot easier than trying to help because hadn’t even sorted out his own.
Judy was sprawled on the couch with a book and a glass of wine, a fire going in the hearth, even though the weather was starting to warm up. “How was dinner?” she asked as they filed in.
Max and Zoe gave her hugs and went to their rooms to put on pajamas and get ready for bed. Collin flopped down next to her on the couch while Davey stood next to .
“Food was good,” Davey said. “Could do without the company.”
Judy simply smiled at that.
Carrie came in after putting her things away. “His apartment is small, but I think he liked having us over.” She curled up on the other side of Judy, who wrapped her arm around Carrie’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze.
“These are for you and Bobby,” Collin said as he passed the bag of cookies to Judy.
“I’ll have to call your father and thank him,” she said before taking a bite of one. “And get his recipe,” she added, clearly pleased with Cal’s baking skills.
looked for something to kick but changed his mind, knowing the arched brow he’d get from Judy.
Brutus came in and wagged his tail at Collin. “Guess I should take him for his walk,” he said as he stood. “Wanna go out?” he asked the dog and scratched behind his ears.
“I think that’s a yes,” said with a laugh. That dog had been a mistake. Expensive and time-consuming and needy. But even loved the damn thing. Which was good since he ended up walking him half the time.
“Carrie, Davey, could you two give me a few minutes with ?” Judy asked.
“I’ll go see if the twins need help brushing their teeth,” Carrie said diplomatically, everyone knowing the twins had been brushing their own teeth since they were three.
Davey looked at . “What’d you do?”
“I’m not in trouble,” said, then glanced at Judy. He was a grown-ass man but still felt like a second grader around Judy. “Am I?”
She laughed at that. “No, you’re not in trouble.”
“Am I in trouble?” Davey asked.
“Not that I know of,” Judy said with a raised brow.
“And you better not be,” added, giving him a light tap on the back of the head, playful and teasing.
Davey grabbed a cookie from the bag and went toward his and Collin’s room.
Judy turned to face . “So how did it really go?”
shrugged. “It went. He cooked. No one’s got food poisoning so far, so I guess it was okay.”
“And…?”
“And what? He lives in a jungle, grows his own food now. He reflects on the good things in his life. I’m not sure what you’re wanting from me here.”
“I was just wondering how you felt about all of that.”
No one wanted to know how he really felt about it. Hell, didn’t even want to know how he felt about it. “I’m glad he’s doing okay,” he said tightly, gnashing the words out.
“But?”
“But nothin’. He’s doin’ good. That’s good for the kids—probably—so, whatever.”
“You think it might not be good for the kids to have their father doing well?”
rubbed his forehead with his knuckles, a headache blooming behind his eyes. “Look,” he said, taking a seat on the coffee table across from her. “It’s good right now. But what happens if he gets more time with the kids, more time of being this… father to them, and then he fucks up and falls off the wagon again? How do they deal with that?”
“You do realize this situation is different from when you were younger?”
“Not that different,” said flatly. “You think he was always just falling down drunk and forgetting he had kids and responsibilities and shit? Because he wasn’t. Sometimes he was sober, or sober enough, at least. Sometimes he had a job and paid the bills and made pancakes and did stuff with us too. Not much after our mom died, but he did stuff.” And why? Why did the backs of his eyes burn when he said that? Why did his chest go tight and his nose sting? Why in the fuck was saying that making him hurt so bad all of a sudden? “And then he’d stop and then it’d go to shit and I’d have to pick up the pieces again and it didn’t matter if I was sixteen or six years old. It was me and no one else and it happened every damn time.”
Judy nodded. couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or just letting him know she understood. Then she said, “But it’s not just you this time, . You’ve got me and Bobby. Colleen is older now, Mike is older. Davey and Collin and Carrie are old enough to handle it.”
“I don’t see how that makes much of a difference.” Which wasn’t entirely true. Now, their lives and well-being weren’t tied to whether or not Cal stayed sober or went to jail or paid a bill. No matter what happened with their old man, they had a roof and food and clothes and a hell of a lot more than had ever dared to hope they’d have.
“It makes a difference because your life and your happiness isn’t controlled by what goes on in his life anymore.”
“I don’t like the kids getting attached to him and then seeing him fall on his face. The twins were too young to see him up and down and up and down over and over again. They think this guy—this fucking gardener and cookie baker—is their father and, yeah, it kind of pisses me off.”
He hadn’t expected Judy to snort a laugh at that.
“What’s so funny?”
“Everything pisses you off,” she said, in that Bobby calm-the skittish-criminal way. “But they don’t think of him as their father. None of them do, but most especially Max and Zoe.”
She got up and pulled a folder from a shelf. “Yesterday, they had to draw pictures of their families in class,” she said as she pulled a drawing out and handed it to .
Zoe had drawn a house with a rainbow over it, the dog playing in the yard. Judy was there, off to the side, something that looked a little like Mike and Colleen farther away. A blond stick figure that was probably Davey held hands with a shorter one that was probably Collin. Then, a tall one with dark hair held a little stick figure Zoe, then Max, and holding Max’s other hand was a stick figure cop, and at the end, stick figure Carrie. Over ’s head in Zoe’s careful kindergarten print was “daddy,” and under that was “,” and ’s heart about stopped. More so when he saw the purple letters over Bobby’s head were the same. Daddy. They never called either of them that, but it was in their heads. In their little hearts. couldn’t breathe for a second.
“In case you’re wondering,” Judy said, passing him another drawing. “Max’s was pretty much the same.” Almost identical, really. Except that in Max’s drawing, he was the one holding ’s hand.
sniffled, and Judy smirked.
“You don’t ever have to worry about the kids thinking of Cal as anything more than he is, . He’s doing his best, and we should be happy for him, but there are things he can’t undo, and everyone, including him, knows it.” She paused and waited for to look at her. “So it’s okay to hope the best for him because no matter what happens, his journey is his own.”
With a tight nod, stood. “Mind if I keep these?”
Judy smiled. “You don’t have to ask me for anything regarding your children, .”
How did she manage to punch him in the gut like that? With just a couple of words. Your children. “Thanks,” he said and got the hell out of there as quickly as he could.
He’d come back over in a few minutes, put the twins to bed, read them their stories, kiss Carrie good night, and brush her hair because she always says it makes her sleep better. He’d spend a few minutes with Davey and Collin and ask about their homework and how school was going. Just as he did every night, when he wasn’t working a late shift.
But for now, everything was too soft and too warm, and needed some air.
What he really needed was a cigarette, but Bobby would be home soon, and he’d been caught cheating twice already in the last few days.
Instead, he put the pictures up on their small fridge with a magnet and put together some dinner for Bobby with the leftover steak they’d had the night before, made some quick fajitas, which Bobby loved and tried to make for him at least once a month.
They had kids. They’d had kids all along, but had always thought of them as just part of himself, part of his life. But it was more than that, and needed the break to wrap his head around it all.