“I’ll eat whatever you want to eat. Thanks.”
She arches her brow, confused by my sudden cooperation. I’m awaiting a smart remark, but she simply nods.
“Thanks. I’ll come back later. If you need me before then, call my cell, okay?” She thrusts her pointer finger toward me. “Don’t push yourself. Stay on the couch and relax. Don’t try to be superman.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She exits through the back door, leaving it open so I can enjoy the breeze.
Once I’m alone, I tear open the envelope from Harper. As promised, he enclosed a copy of my pop’s will and an insurance form, together with another small envelope with my name scrawled across the front in my pop’s handwriting. My damn hand trembles while I tear open the letter.
Levi,
I know we parted on bad terms. I’m sorry I tried using you in my venture without your knowledge. If you’re reading this, then we never mended the fence, but I’m no longer able to do so, either.
I won’t win any Father of the Year awards, but I did love you, boy. I’m real proud of how you turned out. I know it was mostly your doing, but I’d like to think some of the things I taught you paid off. That, and all them damn books.
Anyway, I know you don’t need any money, but Mr. Harper will be sending you an insurance check and some other things. You’re the only person I’ve cared about in this whole damn world, so I wanted to leave you something to remember me by.
The only other thing of real value I can give you is your mama. Her leaving filled me with rage. But age mellows a man. I don’t know if she ever looked for you, but I’d made it hard for her with all the moving around, phony names, and such. At the time, I didn’t think she deserved any second chances, so I didn’t care if she couldn’t find us. I admit I was too full of hatred then to consider how my decisions affected you. I still think you were better off with the clean break, but maybe you disagree.
I hired someone to track her down. As of 2010, she was married and living in Atlanta as Sue Ellen Sinclair Thompson, 760 Martina Drive. She doesn’t know I found her, and I don’t know if you want to see her, but I thought I’d do one thing right in my life. I know it burned you when she left. Maybe if you talk to her, you’ll get closure one way or another.
I’m sorry for dragging you all around the country. I’m sorry I never gave you a decent home or a normal life. I hope you know you’re the one true, good thing in my life. I thank you for sharing my many adventures and not judging me too harshly. You were a blessing, son.
Love,
Pop
My throat tightens and I shiver while holding my pop’s final words to me. I clear my throat to dislodge the heavy lump stuck inside. When rereading the letter, I take the time to notice each word. In my mind, I hear his voice as if he’s speaking to me. He had a hypnotic voice—deep and Southern and smoother than mine.
Frankly, I’m shocked he used his death to drag Mama into my head. Why would he think I’d ever want to see her, and why’s he forcing the issue by giving me her address? Hell, now I can’t even fight with him about it. That makes me madder than a wet hen!
I don’t want to see Mama. Even if those years on the run made me hard to find, I’ve been using my own name for more than a decade. If she wanted to locate me, she’d have done so by now.
Not surprising she hasn’t, really, since she never much liked my company. She’d shoo me away while she stared out the window, smoked a cigarette, or watched television. Lindsey’s been more nurturing this past week than Mama ever was.
Why’s Pop encouraging me to go to her? Did he know something more about why she left? If so, do I want to know it, or will it just make me feel worse?
I can’t believe these are his final words and wishes. My heart rate’s climbing, but I can’t throw anything or go anywhere. I can’t even get up and move around. I’m stuck here on this damn sofa with no way to escape my thoughts.
Sue Ellen Thompson—married in Atlanta. So nice to learn she started a new family as if I never existed. My stomach twists in an angry knot, and this tension is aggravating my back pain. I take quick, deep breaths, blowing steam through my nostrils. For more than twenty years I kept thoughts of a reunion at bay because I didn’t know where she lived. Now Pop force-fed me that information and I’m choking on it.
I wish I’d never called the damn lawyer. And I don’t want Pop’s tainted insurance proceeds, either. No doubt he bought the policy with money stolen from the suckers he fleeced. I’ve had my fill of bad karma for more than one lifetime.