Page 7 of The Love We Deny
She gives me a long look before deciding to let it go, settling back onto the couch, ending up with her head on my shoulder. “I used to write him letters,” she says after an extended silence. “Mom didn’t want me to, but I did anyway. He always wrote me back. I think he was sad back then.”
I put my arm around her, trying not to let those words affect me. “I’m sure he was.”
She nods, and we stay there for a long, tense moment before she sits up and grabs the remote. “Okay. We’re watching something funny tonight.”
“Be nice, Dad,” Addie says, climbing out of the car in front of her school.
“What? Why wouldn’t I be nice?”
She gives me a look over her shoulder that says she thinks I’m an asshole, and okay, that’s fair. I guess her mother and I never gave her a reason to think differently. Wewerealways hard on Will.
But it became difficult not to be.
I watch until pink hair disappears into the crowd of other kids, but I still sit in the drop-off line longer than necessary, chewing on the words.
Be nice.
I can do that.
I pull out of the high school parking lot and head toward one of Rosehill’s bigger neighborhoods, where Frank and Joyce have lived for forty years. I think I could get there blindfolded. I know every turn, every stop sign, every pothole by heart.
I’ve been making this drive since I was sixteen years old.
I spend most of it tryingnotto think about what I’m walking into, but it drifts in anyway.
Will was arrested over seven years ago for dealing drugs. It surprised me when I heard the news. I always knew he was on them. I hated it, and I tried to offer support and resources, but he always shot me down, and eventually, we gave up on trying.
But he never seemed like the type to get involved in actualcrime. I guess when you’re desperate…
Anyway. I’m trying not to think about that.
It’s just that I don’t know what to expect. I’ve never met anyone who went to jail, unless you count a buddy from college who went for the night after he had too much to drink. I don’t know what being in prison for seven years does to a person.
Especially a person I used to consider family.
Frank’s truck is already in the driveway, so I don’t let myself linger in the car the way I wish I could. Joyce meets me at the front door before I’ve even made it up the porch steps, pushing open the screen door with the look she always gets when Will is around.
Sad, worried, scared, the combination a grim reminder that this isher son.
“They just got back,” she says, keeping her voice low. “Maybe ten minutes ago.”
I follow her inside, shutting the door behind me. “Where is he?”
“In the living room,” she says. “Frank went to lie down. He wasn’t feeling well.” I nod, making a mental note to check on my father-in-law before I leave.
Joyce stays in the middle of the kitchen, and I take that as my cue to do this alone. I can do this for them after everything they’ve done for me. It must be hard for them, after all this time. I take a step into the living room, after giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile.
And then he’s right there.
He’s sitting on the floral couch they’ve had forever, holding a coffee cup in both hands, looking down at the drink like it holds the secret to the universe. He’s wearing a grey zip-up and sweatpants. His light hair is buzzed.
He’s bigger than I remember.
His shoulders fill out the jacket, and his cheeks are full. He’s not the hollowed-out, rumpled version of himself from Addie’s birthday party, that much I can see. And I can’t help the sigh ofrelief, because it really is good to see him looking healthy. It’s been so long.
That makes him look up.
“Oh. Hey,” he says, looking at me for only a moment.
