Chapter 26 Justin
JUSTIN
Justin tightened his grip on the steering wheel and twisted, burning his palms with the friction.
The house his truck faced was even more dilapidated than the one he’d grown up in, but none of it was a surprise.
Full trash bags were heaped beside the front door.
An old pick-up truck sat on one side of the house with another beside it.
There was a good chance neither of them would start.
Chuck had always been lazy, but he’d taken things to a new level recently. The neighbors on both sides had tall privacy fences bordering Chuck’s yard as if thin boards would deter the man if he set his mind to evil.
In a split-second decision, Justin unbuckled his seat belt and slipped out of the truck. It wouldn’t get any easier if he kept staring at the problem in front of him.
A thin layer of frost crunched beneath his boots as he stepped up to the front door. Did he really need to do this? Was he going to open a can of worms when he and Caroline were so close to solving the problem that had been hounding them for the last month?
Justin raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. Silence settled around him for a tense thirty seconds before he knocked again.
Chuck shouted a string of colorful curses from inside before opening the door slowly. “What?”
It shouldn’t have been shocking to see Chuck so pale and withered, but the transformation was enough to steal Justin’s breath. His dad’s skin drooped, and bruises were stamped along his arms and hands. He leaned on a wooden cane, and his socked feet were swollen.
“What are you doing here?” Chuck asked with no less irritation than before.
Justin scoffed. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”
“Come to make sure I’m staying out of trouble.” Chuck looked Justin up and down. “I know that’s what this is.”
“Actually, I know that if you’ve been causing trouble lately, you haven’t been caught. It’s enough of a change to keep anyone with good sense on edge.”
Justin’s dad let out a small chuckle that quickly turned into a coughing fit. Each wheeze was a croupy sputter that wracked the man’s frame.
When the coughing settled, Chuck waved a hand and stepped slowly out of the way. “Come on in.”
Of all the things Justin had prepared for today, an invitation to come in wasn’t on the list. Now, there wasn’t much to do but step inside.
The rotting smell hit him first, then he saw the filth. There were even more bags of trash piled up inside. Dirty dishes covered every inch of the kitchen counters, crumpled laundry trailed over the floors, and a sickly-thin dog with matted hair scurried into a dark room.
“Um, are you working these days?” Justin asked.
“Nope. Just living off the government,” Chuck said as he shuffled his feet to the living room and stopped in front of a worn recliner. “Have a seat.”
Justin studied the couch. It was the same one his dad had owned for the last thirty years, but it was covered in dirty paper plates and stiff rags. Was that a chocolate cookie or something worse sitting on the arm rest?
Chuck let out an oof as he fell back into the recliner. “How’s the life of a celebrity?”
“I’m not a celebrity, and I’m not playing baseball anymore.”
“Hmm. Can’t understand why you’d want to give that up, considering the cushy pay.”
Of course it had always been about money for Chuck. It was the only reason he’d allowed Justin to play baseball in high school. A coach finally convinced Chuck that his son had a shot at making it, and his whole attitude about the game shifted.
Well, some of his attitude. He still hadn’t shown his face at games or signed up to help run the concession stand.
“I had shoulder surgery and didn’t see the point in going back.”
“Yeah, success might kill you,” Chuck mumbled as he squirmed in his chair.
Justin shrugged. “I needed the money back then. I don’t now.”
“Must be nice. Did you come here to gloat?”
“I came to see how you’re doing.”
Chuck shook his head with narrowed eyes. “As if you care.”
“I do, actually. Not that you did anything to deserve my concern.”
Chuck flung his hands out to the sides. “I’m dying. Is that what you want to hear?”
Chuck always had a flair for the dramatic, but dying? “What do you mean?”
“Liver failure.”
The sickly look about him made sense. So did the yellowish tint in his eyes and skin.
The sickness explained so much. The silence. The lack of attacks lately. Yet, the relief Justin wanted to feel that his dad was unable to terrorize people anymore was absent.
“How can I help?”
Chuck scoffed. “Don’t pretend to care. I don’t have time for games.”
Justin sat forward, the heat of the building irritation rising in his chest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.
You might be my dad, but I don’t owe you anything.
You gave me the bare minimum, but I’ve grown past it.
I’m offering my help because I want to.”
Chuck rocked back and forth in his chair, staring Justin down. “Why?”
“Because you’re a person like anyone else, and it’s not right for me to hate you. You might be dying, but everyone else is too. We all have a day that will be our end. You’re not special.”
After a tense staring match, Chuck reached for the TV remote and turned it on.
Sports commentary filled the small room, and the fog dissipated from Justin’s head.
It was a re-run. The game Justin had pitched earlier in the year against the Cardinals.
The Marlins had taken the win after a strained eighth inning.
“You watch playbacks often?” Justin asked.
Chuck lifted his thin shoulders and let them sink again. “I like the sport.”
“You never came to a game.”
His dad’s absence hadn’t bothered him too much. He’d never expected the man to enter a stadium. Chuck’s attitude toward baseball had always skirted the line of boredom.
“Didn’t have to. I could watch from here.”
What did it matter if his dad watched the games? Justin enjoyed the sport, but it was always a means to an end. Every plan to provide for his grandparents had flourished, and he’d closed that chapter of his life with content.
Justin leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I met someone.”
Chuck didn’t turn away from the game on the screen. “Good for you.”
“Actually, I met someone thirteen years ago.”
There was no emotion in Chuck’s tone as he gave a quick “Congratulations.”
Justin stared at his clasped hands. “It’s Caroline Taylor.”
Chuck’s huff was only a second delayed. “I should have expected that.”
“Expected what?”
“That you’d get sucked in by the other side,” Chuck explained.
Justin straightened, preparing to face the storm he’d just unleashed. “They never did anything wrong.”
“I know. That was why I hated them,” Chuck said, still staring at the TV.
Justin studied his dad. Chuck didn’t flinch, didn’t seem shocked or outraged. He’d used the past tense of hate. Had he meant to?
“Everything went right for them. It wasn’t ever like that for me,” Chuck said. “And I hated them for it.”
Chuck’s explanation was all too familiar.
How many times had Justin wondered why other kids got new clothes and visits from Santa?
How many times had he stayed quiet while other kids got praised by the teachers for good grades and perfect attendance?
He understood the feeling, but he also knew things hadn’t started going well for him until he worked to change the things within his control.
There’d been a huge shift after he met Caroline and she introduced him to the Lord.
Chuck didn’t have that. No one told him he could dig himself out of the rut and be better for it.
“They would have helped you if you hadn’t hurt them,” Justin said, completely sure that it was the truth.
“I didn’t want charity.”
“It’s not charity, it’s benevolence. They help people because they want to, and they don’t do anything expecting to be paid back. I know why you feel that way, but they welcomed me with open arms despite everything you did.”
Chuck slowly shook his head, still entranced by the TV.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not too late to make amends,” Justin whispered.
Chuck gave a non-committal grunt and kept his attention on the game. After half a minute, Justin sat back and let the conversation die. It wasn’t a win, but it was a step in the right direction.