American Bad Boy(41)

“Hey,” Mack grabs my shoulders and looks down into my face, “I told you, I promise I’ll get him. Ok? You can trust my word, you know that. Please, try to calm down a little and I’ll be back soon. I’ll take care of this. I promise.” He stresses and somehow it actually does slow my heartbeat a little from the borderline heart attack I’m having.

“Ok,” I answer and Mack gives me a quick peck on the forehead and disappears out the front door.

“I love you,” I whisper to the door shutting in my face. Please, Lord, let him bring back my baby. Please, let this all be ok.





23





Mack





2014




The pavement is thudding under my prosthetic as I run toward where Lauren told me the graveyard is. The cool air is rushing past my ears and I sweep my head from side to side for the first signs of the cemetery. I didn’t have time to get detailed directions from Lauren. I could’ve brought her with me, but I feel like if Chris is there, and I expect he is, then he’s not going to want to talk to his Mom. He needs his Dad.

Before Lauren came down the stairs, those pictures of her family … is Chris mine? When Lauren told me how old he was, I figured that she shacked up with Joel Brickman shortly after I left for West Point. Yet, I looked through a bunch of pictures of her and Chris by themselves for years. I mean, someone must have been taking all those shots, but it seems weird that Joel isn’t in a single one until the wedding picture.

My eyes try to squeeze shut with the wave of guilt washing over me. I should’ve been there for her. Not Joel fucking Brickman. God rest his soul.

Running up the street isn’t as easy without my blade. I’ve gotten so used to it now that I’ve been doing daily jogs and sprints. However, I can see the steel gate leading to the Lewis cemetery up ahead. I don’t need a blade; I need to get … my son.

Is he my son? Why would Lauren keep that from me? Was she that angry at me for going to West Point? They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but that seems ridiculous.

I should’ve been there for her.

You have no one to be angry at but yourself.

I slow my jog to a walk and stride in through the gate, searching the rows of headstones like and owl scanning a field for mice. Where is he? I don’t see him anywhere. Just hundreds of grave markers shining under the moonlight. Some covered in fresh flowers from loved ones who still ache for their losses. Some long forgotten, their headstones crumbling and neglected.

I stop and tilt my head to listen carefully. All I can hear is the faded noise of traffic a few streets over. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Chris didn’t come here. Maybe I’m wrong about everything. He might not even be my kid.

The pictures on the mantle flash in my mind, the only thing is, Chris didn’t look like Joel as a toddler. He didn’t look like Lauren either except for her beautiful skin tone. No. He looked like me.

A small movement catches my peripheral vision and I snap my head over to investigate further. Almost twenty rows away I can see a small figure in the shadows. It’s him. He did come here! I wonder what else I’m right about?

I want to yell his name, but I stop myself. What if he runs? Or I scare him? It’s probably better to just go talk to him. I walk up the end of the row, so I don’t trample on anyone’s graves, and close the yards between us.

With each step I get closer to him, the more I’m sure it is Chris. I can hear his voice being carried by the night air. “Need to let you go …” He’s sitting at the foot of the grave, talking to Joel. Just like Armstrong and I had suggested. I’m happy that he’s getting the closure he needs; I just wish he would’ve waited until tomorrow to do it.

I slow down, I’m not trying to sneak up on him, but I don’t want to interrupt him either. His back is to me, but I can hear the tears he’s choking back in his voice.

“Mom and I are doing ok. I mean, it’s been hard without you, real hard. I’ve been messing up a lot. I just get so mad sometimes that you’re gone, you know? Like, why did you have to leave us when we still needed you here?” his voice cracks.

I stop a couple a rows away from him and let him speak his mind. I’ve been where he is and I know how important it is to say your piece to get some peace.

“It’s been hard on mom.” He sounds like he’s accusing Joel angrily. “And, well, I’ve been hard on her too. I got expelled and then the cops picked me up. I know I’m making her worry. I just, I dunno, I just keep getting so pissed off. I mean angry,” he sounds defeated and I watch as his shoulders slump forward.

“But I think things are going to get better now. Mom has a cool friend. You’d like him, he talked to me about you and stuff. Everyone keeps talking about closure and I guess it’s important. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to tell you that I still miss you and think about you all the time, but I don’t want to be mad about it anymore. I want to go back to having some fun and doing stuff I like again. I guess I felt like I shouldn’t be having any fun without you, but I know you wouldn’t want that. So, I still love you, and I still miss you, but I’m gonna move on. I have to. I don’t want to be mad all the time anymore.” His voice breaks and so does my heart. Chris drops his head into his hands and his back rises and falls with his cries.