August
I’m not sure I have ever seen anything more beautiful in my entire life. Leighton wasn’t kidding… Sam looks a lot like me. Same brown hair that glints red in the sunlight. When he becomes a man and starts growing facial hair, it will be more red than brown. Same green eyes already fringed with super thick lashes that will get him picked on in school by the boys but will make all the girls swoon.
Those features aren’t what makes him beautiful, though.
It’s because he is a part of me. It’s because I had a part in creating that miraculous child.
I can’t help but think about how my first meeting with him should have went. With me holding Leighton’s hand while she struggled to push Sam into this world. Crushing my bones with strength I never knew she had while calling me all sorts of vile names, most likely threatening to never let me touch her again. My first meeting should have been him squirting out into the doctor’s hands before being lovingly placed—all red and squalling—into our arms so we could ooh and aah over how beautiful he was.
But this… while it’s not what I ever imagined, it’s perfect just the same.
Because he’s perfect, leukemia riddled, nine years I missed out on, and all.
The thing that amazes me most—and I’m sure I’ll reflect on it later—is that I don’t feel awkward while meeting him. Despite my anger toward Leighton and the fact I want to punch her dad’s lights out, despite not knowing this child, I don’t feel there’s anything strange about this moment. I don’t have the slightest bit of stress at all. The only thing I can assume is it’s because like knows like.
Leighton and Sam stop halfway across the yard. Her arm goes protectively around his shoulder. I know she stands prepared to do battle as a mama bear would, gearing up to protect her kid if things go wrong. I don’t know what Sam is feeling. I don’t want him to be scared or intimidated. However, the excitement on his face tells me he feels otherwise. Taking two steps toward him, I crouch so I can be more on his level.
Sam leaves his mother’s cocoon, showing no hesitation as he walks the rest of the way toward me. He’s tall and lanky the way I used to be. Shoulders thrown back confidently and I have to give testament to Rich and Leighton—they must have raised Sam right.
To be brave.
When he pauses before me, I smile. “Hey, Sam… My name is August.”
“You’re my dad,” he says in awe. A truth we all know.
I chuckle. “Yeah, I am. And I have to tell you—this is one of the happiest days of my life.”
Sam grins. “It’s one of mine, too.”
I wonder if he means because he’s finally meeting his dad or that I could potentially save his life. Probably both. I’m happy for the same reasons.
I twist to look over at Rich, and it hits me I don’t even know his name.
I mean his current name.
It was Rich before he went into hiding. Leighton never bothered to tell me what his new name is. Don’t care to be honest, but I’ll figure it out later. For now, I see he watches us cautiously.
I glance over at Leighton. She has one hand wrapped around her stomach, her other fist hovering in front of her mouth. Her expression is worried yet hopeful.
I meet my son’s eyes. “I’m not sure what the proper protocol is right now. Should we shake hands like men? Hug it out like father and son?”
Once again, this miraculous child—who could be dying but hopefully I can save—finds it within himself to smile with a love I did not know was possible. “I’m kind of a hugger by nature.”
That was all I needed to hear. Snagging my son, I tug him into my embrace, feeling such completeness as his arms wrap around my neck. I straighten, pulling Sam right along with me, his body weight nothing to my strength.
There’s no stopping the tears that flood my eyes.
♦
“Favorite football team?” Sam digs out another scoop of ice cream from the carton on the counter.
We’ve been left alone as Mike—Rich’s new name—and Leighton went to the grocery store to buy hamburgers for us to grill later. They wanted to give us time alone.
I have no clue if it’s appropriate since Sam’s appetite could potentially be ruined by the ice cream he asked for and I gladly allowed, but I figure my first act as a father should be to unrepentantly spoil the kid to make up for lost time.
We’ve been trying to get to know each other—speed-dating style. “The Jets,” I reply.
Sam wrinkles his nose. “The Broncos are better.”
“Not going to argue with you, kid.” Sam struggles with the frozen ice cream the deeper he digs, so I take the scooper and help. As I plop it into the bowl, I ask, “Favorite food?”
Sam grimaces again. “These days… not much of anything. I haven’t felt like eating lately.”
And just like that, our happy reunion gets doused with a bucket of ice water. I dig out another scoop of ice cream, deeming the pile in the bowl sufficient, and push it toward him. “You feel like eating this?”
He nods, smirking as he takes his spoon. “Got to admit, ice cream always tastes good to me.”
“So you get your calories and nutrition as best you can,” I remark with a shrug. “You should eat all the ice cream you want then.”
“That’s what my mom says. She’s happy to see me eating anything these days.”
Leaning over, I press my forearms to the counter so we are eye to eye. “I know it’s been tough—I can’t even imagine—but I’m glad I can be a donor for you.”
Sam’s eyes twinkle. “Me too. And bonus… I get a dad.”
I watch as Sam attacks the ice cream. He eats it with gusto and I wonder if there’s something inside him that fears death, making him try to suck every bit of goodness out of what he can. The thought of him dying makes me want to vomit. Makes me feel completely out of control.
“Your mom and I were going to talk to you about it later,” I start. Perhaps because of the somber nature of my tone, Sam puts his spoon down and swallows the last bite in his mouth. “But we’re going to take you to Vegas for your treatment. It’s where I live. Where my job is. And I have the best doctors lined up for you. A fancy private plane lined up to fly you there, too.”
A smidgen of fear flits over Sam’s face. “My mom’s coming, too, right? And Grandpa?”
“Your mom for sure. Not sure if your grandfather can or not. He’s still under protection here.”
“Did my mom lose protection when she left?” he asks.
“Most likely,” I reply truthfully. “I mean… we haven’t actually spoken to anyone about it, but I know the rules are strict. It’s not something you need to worry about, though, since she’ll be safe with me.”
“Will I be in danger if I leave?”
It suddenly hits me like a sack of bricks—the enormous burden Leighton must have had on her shoulders… having to explain all of this to Sam. She could’ve taken the easy way out. Told him that she didn’t know who his father was. She could have made me out to be a bad guy—convinced Sam that I had left them. But she’d told him the truth. Even the ugly bit about her father and what landed them in their situation. She wanted her son to know exactly where he came from and what he was facing. I have to admit I respect the fuck out of her for it.
Because it’s enabling me to have a pretty deep conversation with my kid, and I can do so with complete transparency.
“You are going to be absolutely safe, Sam. Your mom, too. You’re going to stay with me until you’re admitted to the hospital for the transplant. And I am good at protecting people. It’s what I do for a living.”
Sam’s eyes widen and his mouth parts, forming a surprised “O”. “Really? What do you do?”
“Well, I used to be a police officer with the Vegas police department. I actually worked on their SWAT team.”
“That is so cool,” Sam exclaims.
“Now I work for a security company,” I explain. “I protect people, sometimes even rescue those who have been kidnapped.”
“Wow,” Sam breathes in a reverent gush of air. “And you can protect my grandpa if he comes, too, right?”
My face clouds over at his question. I can’t hide it. But I don’t want to keep anything from my son. “It’s complicated, Sam. Right now, your grandpa still has government protection while your mom most likely does not. We’re going to have to talk about it some more.”
And then Sam does something that—for as long as I live—I will never forget.
This child, who has known me for less than an hour, reaches over and sets his hand on top of mine. He looks me dead in the eye and with a conviction I have never seen in another person before, he firmly states, “It’s okay, Dad. I trust you.”