“So this Chris guy—he knows anything and everything about the skate circuit and between rounds he’d prep me about the opponents and he’d critique my form and he made sure I stopped skating so I could be at the right place at the right time. He carried my gear and made sure I was hydrated. He kind of did everything for me today. Just like you used to, Dad.” I focus on my hands so I can avoid focusing on him. “You remember when you’d take me to the comps and we’d wake up early and mom would pack our lunch but we never ate it because we always liked the food there better? You’d always make sure to know what she’d packed so when we got home and she asked how it was we could always lie about it. And you’d carry my gear and set timers because you knew that no matter where I was I wouldn’t stop skating unless I really had to. Then you’d stand at the sidelines with me, waiting for my name to be called and you’d always just say, ‘skate your heart out.’
“So Chris—he did everything you used to do, well, almost everything. He didn’t encourage me and he didn’t remind me that it didn’t matter if I placed or not, as long as I enjoyed it.
“I guess the reason I’m telling you this is because I haven’t been in a good place lately, Dad. It’s been dark, and hard, and lonely.” I sniff once, pushing back my tears. “Hunter called the other day and we joked that I might have postpartum depression. Which is kind of crazy but not really. I don’t know…” I shrug. “…I think maybe I just needed someone to encourage me—someone to tell me that it was okay to not be perfect. I think I just needed my dad.” I take a few calming breaths, still refusing to look at him. Then I reach down, grab the trophy, and set it on his nightstand. “I came second, Dad. I didn’t win, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care that I placed. I skated my heart out just like you always told me to do. And I just wanted you to know that I get it, and that I forgive you. Because I know now—I know that it’s really, really hard to be perfect all the time. And you were, Dad. Up until that point, you were pretty damn perfect.”
I sit with him for a while, the preverbal weight lifted off my shoulders. When his eyes begin to drift shut and his breaths become steady, I reach into my pocket and pull out Becca’s note—my heart already racing as I unfold it.
I see you, Josh.
35
-Joshua-
“You look nice,” Maggie, the lady in charge at Tommy’s daycare says, brushing down my suit jacket. “We’re all sorry this is happening to you. You’re the last person in the world who deserves this and I just want to commend you for not letting it affect Tommy. The amount of kids we see whose behavior change because of this kind of stuff… well, you can imagine. My family’s been praying for the right outcome. Good luck today, Josh.” “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
She smiles a pitiful smile that changes the moment she looks down at Tommy. Then she takes his little hand in hers while he waves at me. “Bye, Daddy.”
I start to wave back but my emotions flood me and I drop to my knees and hold him tight for as long as I can, knowing it might be the last time. “I love you,” I whisper.
“You so silly, Daddy! I see you soon,” he says, but he hugs me back anyway because he knows I need it. He just doesn’t know why.
Maggie places her hands on his shoulders. “We got some new toys in the sandpit,” she tells him. “They’re calling your name.”
“Toys don’t talk, silly,” he tells her, and even through all the nerves and anxiety of what’s about to happen, I manage to smile.
I drive to the courthouse, my mind on Tommy sitting in the sandpit in his daycare and I remember the day that started all this—the day with Becca and the stupid sandpit. I remember their matching pouts as they looked up at me because we forgot the sand and in that moment I knew that I’d pretty much do anything to make them happy—both of them. She had her first nightmare that night, and the next day she tried to push me away. But I wanted her; even then I knew how badly I needed her. So I asked her to coast with me. And she did. For a while, we all did. All three of us coasted through life until, figuratively, Monday came along and we had to deal with real life.
And real life—it was a fucking asshole.
Rob and Kim meet me just outside the courthouse. “You look so handsome,” Kim says, kissing my cheek.
“Yeah? I feel like shit.”
“Your mom and dad are inside,” says Robby.
“Dad’s here?”
“Yeah, but he’s pissed at your mom for making him roll around in a wheelchair.”
“Is he okay?”
Robby shrugs. “He’s fine. Your mom’s being dramatic.”
Mom, Chazarae and Mr. Newman stand up as soon as they see me and I can tell by the expressions on their faces that whatever they’ve been discussing isn’t good.
“Everything okay?” My gaze shifts from them to my dad, suited up and sitting in his wheelchair looking down at his lap.
“There’ve been some developments,” Mr. Newman says and my eyes snap to his.
“What do you mean developments?”
He picks up his briefcase and motions his head for me to walk with him. I eye them all, one by one, but the only one who seems to know what’s happening is Mom. My dad might, but I can’t tell because he won’t look at me.
I step up beside Mr. Newman as he leads us down a hallway. “Natalie doesn’t want to go to court—she wants mediation.”
“Can she even do that? We’re supposed to be in there in ten minutes.”
He stops in his tracks and turns to me. “To be honest, Josh, I don’t really know what’s happening but her lawyers contacted me this morning and they don’t sound too happy about Natalie’s decision so I guess this might be a good thing for you. Mediation doesn’t mean we have to agree with anything that she’s asking for. It just means we discuss it. And if we’re not happy—we continue with the original plan.”
“Okay,” I say, because my mind’s too busy trying to work out a scenario where I come out on top if this is something she wants.
Heated whispers sound from behind me and I turn to see the others walking after us—my mom and Robby deep in conversation. I look back at Dad, being wheeled by my mom, and this time, he sees me too.
He nods once, his lips pressed together.
And that’s all he does.
I turn back and keep walking, one foot in front of the other, until I see Natalie’s parents sitting on the chairs just outside a door. Gloria stands up when I approach. Her husband doesn’t. “Hi Josh,” she says, and I stand still in front of her, my hands in my pockets. I can tell she wants to say more but Mr. Newman says, “Let’s go,” as he opens the door for me.
Voices stop when I walk into the room and I lift my gaze. The first thing I see is the back of Natalie; she’s standing in front of the full-length windows and my fists ball at the sight of her. I want to yell at her to look at me, to see what she’s done to me. To see how she’s ruined me. But I know she won’t. She couldn’t face me three years ago, she sure as hell won’t face me now.
“So Chris—he did everything you used to do, well, almost everything. He didn’t encourage me and he didn’t remind me that it didn’t matter if I placed or not, as long as I enjoyed it.
“I guess the reason I’m telling you this is because I haven’t been in a good place lately, Dad. It’s been dark, and hard, and lonely.” I sniff once, pushing back my tears. “Hunter called the other day and we joked that I might have postpartum depression. Which is kind of crazy but not really. I don’t know…” I shrug. “…I think maybe I just needed someone to encourage me—someone to tell me that it was okay to not be perfect. I think I just needed my dad.” I take a few calming breaths, still refusing to look at him. Then I reach down, grab the trophy, and set it on his nightstand. “I came second, Dad. I didn’t win, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care that I placed. I skated my heart out just like you always told me to do. And I just wanted you to know that I get it, and that I forgive you. Because I know now—I know that it’s really, really hard to be perfect all the time. And you were, Dad. Up until that point, you were pretty damn perfect.”
I sit with him for a while, the preverbal weight lifted off my shoulders. When his eyes begin to drift shut and his breaths become steady, I reach into my pocket and pull out Becca’s note—my heart already racing as I unfold it.
I see you, Josh.
35
-Joshua-
“You look nice,” Maggie, the lady in charge at Tommy’s daycare says, brushing down my suit jacket. “We’re all sorry this is happening to you. You’re the last person in the world who deserves this and I just want to commend you for not letting it affect Tommy. The amount of kids we see whose behavior change because of this kind of stuff… well, you can imagine. My family’s been praying for the right outcome. Good luck today, Josh.” “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
She smiles a pitiful smile that changes the moment she looks down at Tommy. Then she takes his little hand in hers while he waves at me. “Bye, Daddy.”
I start to wave back but my emotions flood me and I drop to my knees and hold him tight for as long as I can, knowing it might be the last time. “I love you,” I whisper.
“You so silly, Daddy! I see you soon,” he says, but he hugs me back anyway because he knows I need it. He just doesn’t know why.
Maggie places her hands on his shoulders. “We got some new toys in the sandpit,” she tells him. “They’re calling your name.”
“Toys don’t talk, silly,” he tells her, and even through all the nerves and anxiety of what’s about to happen, I manage to smile.
I drive to the courthouse, my mind on Tommy sitting in the sandpit in his daycare and I remember the day that started all this—the day with Becca and the stupid sandpit. I remember their matching pouts as they looked up at me because we forgot the sand and in that moment I knew that I’d pretty much do anything to make them happy—both of them. She had her first nightmare that night, and the next day she tried to push me away. But I wanted her; even then I knew how badly I needed her. So I asked her to coast with me. And she did. For a while, we all did. All three of us coasted through life until, figuratively, Monday came along and we had to deal with real life.
And real life—it was a fucking asshole.
Rob and Kim meet me just outside the courthouse. “You look so handsome,” Kim says, kissing my cheek.
“Yeah? I feel like shit.”
“Your mom and dad are inside,” says Robby.
“Dad’s here?”
“Yeah, but he’s pissed at your mom for making him roll around in a wheelchair.”
“Is he okay?”
Robby shrugs. “He’s fine. Your mom’s being dramatic.”
Mom, Chazarae and Mr. Newman stand up as soon as they see me and I can tell by the expressions on their faces that whatever they’ve been discussing isn’t good.
“Everything okay?” My gaze shifts from them to my dad, suited up and sitting in his wheelchair looking down at his lap.
“There’ve been some developments,” Mr. Newman says and my eyes snap to his.
“What do you mean developments?”
He picks up his briefcase and motions his head for me to walk with him. I eye them all, one by one, but the only one who seems to know what’s happening is Mom. My dad might, but I can’t tell because he won’t look at me.
I step up beside Mr. Newman as he leads us down a hallway. “Natalie doesn’t want to go to court—she wants mediation.”
“Can she even do that? We’re supposed to be in there in ten minutes.”
He stops in his tracks and turns to me. “To be honest, Josh, I don’t really know what’s happening but her lawyers contacted me this morning and they don’t sound too happy about Natalie’s decision so I guess this might be a good thing for you. Mediation doesn’t mean we have to agree with anything that she’s asking for. It just means we discuss it. And if we’re not happy—we continue with the original plan.”
“Okay,” I say, because my mind’s too busy trying to work out a scenario where I come out on top if this is something she wants.
Heated whispers sound from behind me and I turn to see the others walking after us—my mom and Robby deep in conversation. I look back at Dad, being wheeled by my mom, and this time, he sees me too.
He nods once, his lips pressed together.
And that’s all he does.
I turn back and keep walking, one foot in front of the other, until I see Natalie’s parents sitting on the chairs just outside a door. Gloria stands up when I approach. Her husband doesn’t. “Hi Josh,” she says, and I stand still in front of her, my hands in my pockets. I can tell she wants to say more but Mr. Newman says, “Let’s go,” as he opens the door for me.
Voices stop when I walk into the room and I lift my gaze. The first thing I see is the back of Natalie; she’s standing in front of the full-length windows and my fists ball at the sight of her. I want to yell at her to look at me, to see what she’s done to me. To see how she’s ruined me. But I know she won’t. She couldn’t face me three years ago, she sure as hell won’t face me now.
