22
When Tean and Jem got home, the curtains were still open, and the lights in the front room were on.
“Get ready for the battle royale,” Jem said as he pulled into the garage.
“Oh my gosh,” Tean said. “Can you handle him, please?”
“I’ll fight him, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not what I mean. Although you might have to fight him if he tries to run away again.”
“He’s not going to run away. That was about Ammon, and it was a power play. Now he’s made his move, and he can go back home, and things go back to normal.”
“Until the next time they fight.”
“Well, yeah.”
Tean sat there for an extra moment. Then he said, “Okay.”
He stopped in the doorway because someone was talking. It took him a moment to place the voice as his dad’s.
“—everybody has disagreements with their parents, but there’s nothing more sacred than the bond between father and son. And you’ve got a good dad, Daniel. He loves you so much. You don’t know how lucky you are—”
Scipio was already padding across the room to nuzzle at Tean’s hands, and Tean crouched to let the Lab smell his breath and give a decidedly unhappy whine about the current situation.
When Tean straightened, Daniel was already getting to his feet.
The sofa had been stripped of its bedding, and his dad sat there now.
Daniel’s bag—now fully packed—was near the door.
“Thank God,” Daniel said, snatching the bag as he headed toward the garage. “Can we go? Like, now?”
“Dad,” Tean said. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
His dad twisted around. “Hello, Teancum. I was just having a chat with Daniel. Great talking to you, Daniel. Say hi to your folks for me. Remember that your dad loves you!”
“Move,” Daniel growled at Tean.
Tean slid aside, and Daniel stomped past him into the garage.
Jem let him pass. He shot his eyebrows at Tean. “What’s up?”
“I’m not sure. Can you take him home? My dad is here.”
“Uh, yeah. Okay. Danny boy, you ready?”
Daniel gave Jem a look that Jem had once told Tean was called Death Ray Thirteen, and then he got into the front seat and slammed the door.
Jem rolled his eyes. “This is going to be fun.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nah, we’re good. We’ll get cones at McDonald’s. I mean, Daniel’s going to get a cone at McDonald’s, and I’m not going to get anything, because—uh, diabetes?”
Tean was actually too tired to respond to that.
“Babe, don’t look so sad. We’ll be extra good. Scout’s promise.”
“Can we go?” Daniel shouted from inside the car.
“So much fun,” Jem said under his breath, and he ruffled Scipio’s ears before he left.
His dad was still on the sofa. He had one leg stretched out and an ice pack on his ankle.
“What happened?” Tean asked. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I tripped over one of your grandfather’s boxes. The one with the rope maker, if you can believe that. Twisted my ankle.”
“Do you need to see a doctor?”
“I’m fine. But I couldn’t do the stairs to my place,” his dad said, “so Amos thought I should stay here.”
“Amos thought you should stay here?”
“Daniel’s really grown up, hasn’t he? It’s hard to see someone so young feeling so lost.”
“What exactly did Amos say?”
“I’ve got all those stairs, Teancum. And I busted my ankle. We had a nice talk. I think it helped him. He has a lot weighing on him.”
It took Tean a moment to follow the conversational shift from Amos to Daniel. Rather than engage with the comment, Tean took out his phone and texted Amos: What’s going on?
“He’s got a lot of anger,” Tean’s dad said. “A lot of teenagers do because they’re lost today. They don’t have the spiritual guidance they need. It’s a very different world.”
Amos texted back: He tripped over a box.
Tean responded: I know he tripped over a box. What’s he doing in my house?
“I counseled him,” Tean’s dad said. “I told him what the prophets have been telling us for generations. The hearts of the children must turn to the fathers. That’s the only way for us to build the Kingdom of Heaven here on earth.”
Amos still hadn’t replied, so Tean texted again: He can’t stay here.
“And Daniel really opened up,” Tean’s dad said. “I think he wanted someone to talk to. He’s got a lot of anger towards Ammon. Did you know that? So, I invited him to share more about that with me.”
Still nothing from Amos. Tean sent another text: Come pick him up. He’s not staying here.
“He didn’t want to say anything, but I could tell he and Ammon got into a fight. I counseled him—”
“You’re not Daniel’s therapist. And you’re not his spiritual leader. You shouldn’t be counseling him to do anything.”
Tean’s dad was silent for a moment. It was the injured silence of someone who had been wronged, and when he spoke again, he said, “Well, maybe you’re right.”
That made Tean want to scream. Instead, he made his way into the kitchen. Still nothing from Amos, not a single response. Tean wanted to pick up the phone. Call him. Have it out right then.
“I know it’s hard for Daniel right now,” Tean’s dad said. He got to his feet, winced, and then began shuffling across the room. “He’s lost.”
“He’s not lost. He’s a teenager, and he had a fight with his dad because they don’t agree on something.”
“He’s very hard on Ammon.”
Tean found himself trying not to respond, but he made a sound of disbelief anyway.
“I think that young man just needs a little perspective,” Tean’s dad said. “When you’re that age, it’s easy to blame everything on someone else. You don’t understand that life can be difficult for someone else. You don’t know that other people are struggling too.”
“Dad, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Tean grabbed the phone and tapped out a message before he could reconsider it: Answer me.
But nothing.
He took a deep breath. Fine. He’d set up the bed on the sofa again. His dad could stay a night. Tomorrow, they’d get him a splint or a brace or something, and they’d get him up those stairs to his apartment even if Tean had to carry him on his back.
“Ammon’s a wonderful father,” Tean’s dad said, turning in place as Tean moved toward the hall. “He’s a good man. He’s trying his best for his children.”
“When was the last time you talked to Ammon?” When Tean’s dad opened his mouth, Tean said, “Besides that trip to Vegas. What do you know about him?”
“I’ve known him his whole life,” Tean’s dad said. “We still see his parents all the time.”
Tean shook his head. He grabbed a fresh set of bedding from the closet and carried it to the sofa.
As he unfolded a sheet, his dad said, “Maybe you know this already, but Ammon didn’t have an easy childhood.”
A brittle laugh slipped out of Tean. “Is that right?”
“I know you were friends, but kids don’t always see the whole picture.”
“Dad, I don’t want to talk about Daniel. And I certainly don’t want to talk about Ammon.”
“I know that you think you’re helping Daniel, letting him run away from home like that, giving him somewhere safe to land. But he’s going to have to deal with his dad someday.”
Tean shoved handfuls of the sheet behind the cushions.
“All I’m saying,” Tean’s dad said, “is that Ammon didn’t have it easy—”
“Ammon has always had it easy.” Tean was on his feet; he didn’t remember standing.
“Ammon has always had it easy because he’s always taken the easy way out.
He had a difficult childhood? Everyone loved him.
Everyone. Including you and Mom. He couldn’t do anything wrong.
He was good at everything. That’s been his whole life, up until the minute he decided to come out.
And now nobody knows what to do because Ammon finally screwed up in a way that they can’t all pretend not to notice, and you don’t know how to handle it. ”
Tean’s dad didn’t respond. He was holding on to the countertop. Deep lines etched his eyes and mouth. “His father was very hard on him. Not everyone grows up with a father who loves them—”
The sound that came out of Tean’s mouth was childish—it sounded petulant, adolescent, and he was pretty sure he’d heard Daniel make it the last time Jem told him to take out the trash.
But he couldn’t stop it, the same way he couldn’t stop himself from throwing down the rest of the bedding and stalking toward his bedroom.
“Teancum, what’s wrong—”
Tean managed not to slam the door. But only barely. He stood there, hands trembling until he put one on the door like someone might try to open it. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he yanked it out. It was going to be Amos, and Tean wasn’t sure what was going to come out of his mouth.
But instead, the message was from Amy. I need some medication I left at my house.
Tean stared at it. The words didn’t make any sense. And then he wrote back, What?
Her response came right away: It’s a shot. I didn’t think about it when I was packing.
He stared at the screen. He wasn’t thinking, because his head was empty. But after a moment, he wrote, Okay. I can get it. What is it?
Tresiba.
Where is it?
In the refrigerator. Top shelf on the left.
Okay.
He was still in his coat and shoes. He headed out of the bedroom and crossed the kitchen and living room at a brisk walk.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” his dad said. He still stood at the breakfast bar, holding on to the counter.
“You didn’t upset me,” Tean said. And he grabbed his keys and went out into the garage.
“Teancum, please, can we talk about this—”
This time, Tean did slam the door.