Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Ezra
Autumn and I are going to make it. I won’t ever give up on us. But there’s something I need to do. For both of us.
So, after another full day of painting the Green family home, I pull up in front of the house where I grew up. I kill my engine, not hesitating this time. I step outside and walk right up to the front door of Mav Bennett’s old house. It’s in ten times worse shape than April’s. But that’s because, unlike Ed Green, Mav never cared.
I knock on the front door, but when no one answers, I twist the doorknob and push my way inside.
“That you, Eugene?” Mav yells from the living room.
I step into the entry and take a breath. Stale and rancid odors fill my nostrils and lungs, making me wonder if he ever takes out the trash or cleans a dish.
I know this place, too well. And yet, I feel like a stranger walking inside.
“You’re late,” Mav calls.
Crossing into the small living room, I add smoke to the mix of nasty smells in this house. There are empty whiskey bottles on the floor next to his recliner. Blue illuminates his face in the light of the TV, an old Western adoring his screen. “It’s not Eugene, Dad. It’s me, Ezra.”
His eyes scan over to me and he snorts. “So it is.” The dingy, dim light of his blue eyes ping-pongs up and down my body. “You’re back?”
The most haunting thing about being chronically drunk is that you often don't remember the sins you've committed until someone else brings them up to you. Clearly, Mav doesn't recall our encounter the other night. He was too far gone.
“I’m back,” is all I say.
He grunts. “You need money. I see.”
And while that’s ironically not completely false, I don’t want one thing from this man. “Even if I did, you don’t have any.”
Mav snorts again, his eyes back on the TV. “What then, an apology? That ain’t coming.”
“No, I suspect not. But I guess the fact that you know you owe me one means something.” I breathe, filling my chest and remembering all the things Dr. Appleby told me. I’m not a product of him. I’m whoever I choose to be.
Mav flutters his eyes up to the ceiling, looking like the child he isn’t. Neither of us are children. And he won’t treat me like one. I won’t let him.
“I’m just here to tell you that I’m back in town. I’m here to stay. But this will be my only visit to see you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
Mav hiccups. “But you had to come say it to me, huh? Still have daddy issues, boy?”
“I’m far from a boy. And you were never a daddy.”
Mav’s eyes bounce back to me. “Guess you did grow up. You got money?”
I’m not here for small talk or to make connections or to get him thinking we will ever be anything more than strangers on the street. I owe him nothing. And I want nothing in return .
“I’m here for closure. You never treated me right. And yet, somehow I grew to be decent and good.”
“Never treated you right?” he scoffs. “You had a roof over your head. You had food in your belly.”
“I had food when I bought it. We had a roof because you inherited this house. But mostly we had the drink. It looks as if that’s all you have now.” I peer around at this place that hasn’t changed—only I’m not here to clean up after him or to repair what might have been had Mav cared enough.
I’m here for goodbye.
I look him in the eye and make my peace. “I may be back in town, but I won’t be seeing you again. You don’t get to affect my life anymore. I just came to say goodbye . And to wish you well.” Surprisingly, I mean those words. “So long, Mav.”