| |
My greatest fear about meeting Lowell was that he would be a heartless asshole and reject me. Needy spent years filling my head with how great he was, but I wasn’t an idiot. I always figured if he was so awesome, she would contact him about me. Deep inside, she worried he might destroy us to protect himself. That’s why her happy stories never ended with, “Hey, let’s call up your pa.”
But I know Needy felt guilty over Lowell missing out on knowing me. Back when we were living in the Georgia shithole, Mom nearly talked herself into contacting him. We needed help, and I noticed her eyeing the fathers at my soccer games. She wanted me to have what those kids did. Maybe Lowell would be proud of me and take pictures like a normal dad.
But Aunt Immee talked her out of it. I heard them on the phone. After the call, Needy hardened up. She got less nostalgic, more protective.
“No one’s taking you from me,” Mom said later that night while holding me too tightly.
I’ll never know what Lowell’s reaction might have been if he found out before Needy was run off. Or if she had contacted him when I was a kid. I sense Lowell softened up over the years, thanks to Topanga and Dunning. Age can dull a person’s jagged edges. Grandma McNamee often taunted Uncle Clive about going soft in his old age. He would grin at her teasing, but he also grinned when she died. I don’t really think he softened up much.
I’ll never know how things would have turned out. Just like Lowell won’t ever be able to watch me play soccer as a kid. Life offers no rewind button.
Tonight, booze makes Lowell sad or allows his emotions to bubble up unfiltered. We sit on a bench in front of his house where we can find a little privacy. Conor lingers nearby, afraid Lowell will say something to hurt my feelings. I smile at how protective my man can be.
“I’ve missed everything,” Lowell says, staring at his hands.
“No, you mainly missed the gross stuff like potty training and my hormonal teen years.”
“I missed you learning to ride a bike.”
“You can teach me how to drive a motorcycle like you did with Dunning.”
“I missed seeing you walk.”
“You can get me stumbling drunk and then reteach me how to walk in a straight line.”
“I missed your first word.”
“It was crap.”
“Sounds about right,” Conor teases.
“My second word was mama. Then, it was juice, and then it was daddy. Even back then, you felt real to me.”
“I don’t like feeling this way,” Lowell says, frowning at his hands. “I never wanted a bunch of kids. That was Topanga’s dream. But she had so much trouble with Dunning’s birth that she couldn’t carry another one. I was fine with only one kid. But I had another one out in the world. You weren’t much older than Carina when Dunning was born. Sure, all that shit is obvious, but it’s just hitting me now.”
“Because Carina is really cute. When she’s around, I get baby on the brain, too.”
“I’m struggling with regrets, I guess. It’s not my fault you weren’t in my life. And as much as I want to blame Needy, I can see how she saw the situation. And life gets going in one direction, and it can be difficult to change things up. Topanga talked about more kids after her parents died, and she would no longer feel their judgment over not carrying the baby. I didn’t take that seriously. I was comfortable. I like routine. Wanting change always felt like an insult to my good life. As if I was tempting fate.”
“I feel that same way,” I say, overly excited by our similarity. “That’s why I didn’t run when my mom got married to that Kansas fucker. I kept waiting for her to come home, and then I got used to waiting rather than forcing myself to leave. I just get into a groove and don’t want to fuck that up.”
Lowell flashes me a sad frown. “But we miss shit when we don’t change. Bronco missed out on Summer when she was little. He didn’t want to deal with a kid. I heard him regretting that for years. Now, I realize I didn’t learn anything from his situation. I ignored Topanga wanting another baby, and I rejected you.”
“Look, I don’t know about Topanga and babies. But I do know that you hurt my heart a lot when you acted grossed out about me being your kid. I wasn’t lying about how I had my hopes up that you would instantly know I was part of you,” I say, and Lowell gives me the brokenhearted expression of a man too drunk to control himself. “But that was also only a few weeks ago. You were mean to me for a week. Then, you started adjusting to the change, and we’re better. Now, you behave in the way I hoped you would.”
I feel myself getting emotional but put the brakes on any tears. “As for missing out, yeah, that’s shitty. But I’m not old, and neither are you. We have new stuff for you to be there for. Like walking me down the aisle when I get married. Or helping us build our house. There’ll also be small everyday stuff. And that’s what I’ve always wanted. To be able to see and talk to you whenever I wanted.”
Lowell gives me a little smile. “Dunning is past all the cute kid shit. But I see Bronco’s girls and wonder what you were like at their ages.”
“I liked sports and hanging out with my mom. Nothing exciting, really. Wait, I did punch a boy in fourth grade and got suspended.”
“Why did you punch him?”
“He said he wanted to fuck Needy. She was the hottest mom in our grade, and he was talking about doing stuff to her that I now realize he didn’t actually know how to do. I said she wouldn’t date an ugly fat turd like him. Then, he called her a whore, and I punched him.”
Lowell and I share a grin. “I also feel guilty about living here while your mom struggled,” he says and gestures to his fancy house.
“You’ve gotten lucky, you know?” I say, and he gives me a little frown. “Like with who you knocked up. Topanga is a great mom. Needy is, too.”
“I really don’t remember your mom well. Did she take good care of you?”
“She was the best,” I whisper. “When we lived in a Georgia trailer park, there were wild storms that came through all the time. Our trailer shook and rumbled as if we were trapped in a tornado. I’d get so scared. Then, Needy would hold me and talk about how boring school would be tomorrow and what we’d eat for dinner the next day. She talked as if everything was normal and expected. All while her heart beat so calmly. Mom never feared those storms.”
My heart soars, remembering my mother’s arms around me. “One time, a knife-wielding junkie broke into our trailer to steal our TV. Needy told him he could have it as long as he didn’t hurt us. The man yelled for her to shut up and bring him the TV. So, she calmly picked it up and walked over. The TV wasn’t very big, maybe twenty inches. Then, she said, ‘Monroe, don’t wet yourself, baby.’ The guy looked at me, thinking I was pissing myself. That’s when she slammed that TV over his head as hard as she could. She nearly killed the guy. Later, she explained how if we were going to lose our TV, it might as well be destroyed as a weapon rather than getting sold off for drugs.”
Lowell grins. “I can see you doing that.”
I nearly blush when he compares me to my mom. “I know you come from shitty people, and Needy does, too. Yet, I really got lucky to have two strong parents. Even if I didn’t know you, I felt you in my heart. Mom told me so many stories about you and the club. This place lived in my heart long before I arrived here. Now, I could have you both in my life for real.”
Conor’s expression tenses when I look at him. He knows I’m scared of something going wrong with Needy’s extraction. What if trying to free her is what gets her killed? Should I have left well enough alone?
“We’ll get Needy away from that asshole,” Lowell promises instead of Conor. “Bring her here and let you both start over.”
His words shatter my resolve. I’ve refused to give in to my fear, disappointment, and grief for nearly a year. Crying doesn’t fix anything, yet it sure feels good as my dad hugs me and my hero stands nearby.
