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It was after ten by the time Garrison and Aiden sat down to breakfast. Aiden would still be sound asleep if not for him, but no way was the kid sleeping all day. As soon as Garrison had opened his eyes, he'd dragged Aiden out of bed and tossed him in the shower.
Aiden's plate of eggs and bacon had hardly been touched.
"No appetite?"
"No."
Garrison finished his own meal, pulled Aiden's plate across the table, and ate the bacon. "You're missing out."
"I know."
Aiden had hardly spoken all morning, and Garrison didn't have much to say, either. What was he supposed to do here? How were they supposed to get back to where they'd been the day before?
No. The day before, Aiden had snuck out, stolen his car, gotten high, and nearly killed himself. Garrison needed to get back to the year before. Maybe the year before that. Maybe all the way back to his son's childhood, so Garrison could figure out where he'd gone wrong.
He pushed back his chair, cleared the plates, and set them in the dishwasher.
"Want me to do the dishes?"
Garrison turned at his son's offer. That was a first. "Sure."
He sat and watched as his son scrubbed the pans and put away the food, then wiped down the counters. When he was finished, he returned to the table and sat.
The silence was as thick as the newly scarred oak tree. Garrison didn't know how to get around it and wasn't sure he wanted to. Why fight for this kid who was determined to kill himself? If only Garrison didn't care.
Aiden's voice was weak when he said, "I'm sorry about your car."
"You think I care about the car?"
Aiden shrugged.
Garrison wanted to shake him. He leaned back, crossed his arms.
Aiden said, "I'm sorry I left last night."
"Okay."
"I'm sorry about—"
"When we were sitting in there"—Garrison pointed toward the living room—"talking, were you planning to leave?"
Another shrug.
"Your ability to deceive me, to manipulate me—"
"I wasn't trying—"
"Don't interrupt me." The words came out harsher than he'd intended. Maybe he shouldn't yell at the kid. Maybe he should. He'd tried reasoning with him. Tried calm and collected. Tried loving. Maybe Aiden needed a little fear. Maybe he needed to feel Garrison's wrath. Maybe that would straighten him up.
Maybe it would send him away for good.
And then Garrison would have his life back.
And what kind of father let that thought seep in? But he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't be the kid's warden and guard and savior.
Unfortunately, the only other option was unthinkable.
"I'm tired of being lied to," he said. "I'm tired of being played. What you did last night...luring me into trusting you. That was...impressive. Diabolical."
Aiden looked at the table, then back up. He met Garrison's eyes, though it seemed an effort. "When we were talking, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I wanted to go, but I wanted to stay, too. I wasn't trying to manipulate you, Dad. I was just...I was trying to not want to get high. I just...I'm not strong enough. I can't do it."
"You could have asked for help. You could have been honest."
Aiden focused on his lap, said nothing.
"But you chose to deceive me. Again."
Garrison remembered Reed's words from Sunday. Addicts' very survival depends on their ability to deceive. That's not your son. That's the addiction.
Well, it looked a heckuva lot like his son right this minute.
"I'm sorry." The words were a whisper from across the table.
Garrison had never felt so helpless. He'd thought they were on the right track, but now, now his son's recovery seemed as distant as the moon. "What do you want to do?"
Aiden looked up, tried to hold eye contact, failed, and focused somewhere around Garrison's chin. "Is that rehab place still an option?"
"They're holding the bed for you," Garrison said. "I told you that yesterday."
"But, I mean, will you still, like, let me go? Will you still pay for it, even though I stole your phone and wrecked your car?"
The uncertainty in his son's voice had Garrison shifting his chair to face him. "Of course." He leaned forward, wanted to reach out, but didn't. He'd done enough of the reaching. "Of course. What did you think, that I would just write you off because of one relapse?"
Aiden shrugged, and his eyes filled with tears. He tipped forward just enough, and Garrison pulled him into a hug. "All I want is for you to get better." He held his son a moment before he angled back, studied Aiden's face. "You understand that, right? You know how much I love you?"
Aiden nodded and buried his face in his dad's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dad."
"I know. It's going to be okay." He rubbed his back, tried to infuse Aiden, and maybe himself, with courage. "We're going to fix this." He leaned back, met Aiden's eyes. "You have to believe that, believe it's possible. Do you believe it?"
"I don't know."
Garrison nodded slowly. "Okay. Right now, I'll have to believe enough for both of us."