“You’re right about that.” I nodded again.
Frank Murphy had done so much for the local communities by investing in music programs and helping plan fundraising events. His really was a loss the local communities would feel.
“How is Calum holding up? I know he was very close with his grandpa.”
“He’s torn up about it, but he’ll be okay.” At least the whole Harper-kid dilemma was a distraction from the loss he’d just suffered. I don’t think he was allowing himself to fully feel the loss, instead he was hyper-focusing on the situation with Harper.
I couldn’t tell yet if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I prayed like hell it was a good thing. Harper had been good for him once before, and unless she’d changed drastically…she just might be good for him again.
* * *
It felta little weird being back home. After spending so much time away, it was strange walking through a house that hadn’t changed, when I had in so many ways. The kitchen had the same cheerful yellow walls and white cabinets. The same photographs hung on the walls. The newest thing there was the sixty-four-inch television I bought Mom last Christmas when she admitted hers was on the fritz.
After finishing dinner, we talked for a couple of hours. I got her up to speed on almost everything happening in my life—save for the love aspect. Then she told me what she’d been up to, mostly work and quick day trips with friends.
“Oh, and I met someone. He’s nice, but we’re taking it slow,” Mom added, wearing a smile unlike one I’d seen before.
“Will I get to meet him?”
“Oh, we’re not at that stage yet,” Mom chuckled. “He’s got grown kids too that I haven’t met. Like I said, we’re taking things slow.”
I shook my head ruefully. “Ever wonder where I get my avoidance of commitment from?” I said, partly joking. Iusedto have an avoidance of relationships, until I got a taste of Connor. Now I was the one aching for acknowledgement.
Maybe I was more like my dad in that regard. Although he’d always been a flirt, he’d really fallen hard for Mom. Her ambition and drive, and her selflessness. Her heart. He used to say she gave him a sense of direction. Made him a better man.
Mom met Dad while she was in university. My dad had been the bassist and vocalist in a rock band called The Screaming Dragons. His band had played at a concert she’d gone to with friends.
Yup—I was the result of a one-night stand. A wild night of partying that led to the creation of life. My mother had always been transparent about my origins, it’s why I’d been so careful when I bedded women. I’d seen the struggles she went through over the years, and I didn’t ever want to do that to a woman I wasn’t prepared to fully commit to.
My dad tried, for the most part. When he found out she was pregnant, he moved to Nova Scotia. They got this house together, and for a while they tried to make it work for my sake. He loved me, and I had fond memories of him. But I also had a lot of not so fond ones.
My father was an alcoholic and an addict. For a couple years he tried to hide the addiction from us, but he was obvious about the drinking. He always fed me and took care of me, but he was never sober.
For the first few years of my life, Dad played the role of Mr. Mom while my mom worked her ass off to become an emergency room nurse. At first, Dad loved staying home with me. We spent our days playing, watching cartoons, or going to the skate park. I had a lot of fun with my dad, but he wasn’t always the most attentive partner.
My parents’ relationship was a strenuous one. All Mom wanted for us both was stability and security, and Dad was the opposite of both those things. The money he’d made from his days in The Screaming Dragons hadn’t lasted long. For a couple of years, after his old band split up, he had trouble securing gigs for work but refused to consider another job. He said his career was music.
They ended up splitting up for good when I was six, after Dad got charged with a DUI and I was in the vehicle. Dad got an apartment within walking distance of our house and my school and came over every morning to see me off to school so Mom could work. She was done with him, but she wouldn’t deny him spending time with me. I knew he pined for her. Sometimes, he’d try to touch her and she’d shake her head and pull away, and the dejection in his expression would get me every time.
When I was a little kid—before I understood what made him so “fun” was making him sick—I didn’t think it was fair she wouldn’t give him another chance. Like most kids, I wanted my parents together and I wanted them both happy. I didn’t understand why Mom couldn’t forgive him.
I’d asked him once why Mom couldn’t just forgive him, and he said,“I haven’t done anything to earn her forgiveness yet.”
Dad would often walk me to and from school. He was beloved by all the single moms and female teachers. Even before their split, he’d make a little time to flirt with whomever was near before he went off and did whatever he did during the day. I think their attention made him feel a little like the guy he used to be.
After school, we’d go to the skate park for a couple of hours and rip around on skateboards. Honestly, it was like having a big kid for a best friend. Dad played as much as I did and always made me feel like he loved spending time with me. We had a lot of fun together, and he was the one who first taught me how to play the bass.
He was never around on weekends though, especially after they broke up. Weekends were gig nights with his new band. The Screaming Dragons had broken up for good following the death of the lead singer and guitarist, Randy Jones.
Randy’s death fucked my dad up. Instead of it being a wake-up call for him to stop using and drinking, Dad fell deeper into it. He finally secured a gig as a bassist for a local band, and that only fueled his drug use and drinking.
On weekends, he’d play shows at local venues and party even harder than he did during the work week. I’d overheard him arguing with Mom about it one night, and he’d insisted it was the only way to make connections and get traction for his new band.
They called themselves Thrice Over, and they just weren’t gaining the same attention The Screaming Dragons had. They had a few regular gigs locally and that was pretty much it. Still, Dad clung to those gigs with everything he had, unwilling to give up the dream.
As I got older, my father disappeared deeper into the rabbit hole of drugs, and he started forgetting to pick me up from school during the week. I’d walk myself to his apartment, and I’d find him on the sofa, eyes red and glassy, torn pages from his notebook everywhere. He said he was working on a new song and lost track of time, and he’d beg me not to mention it to Mom.
Addicts reach a point when their sickness takes over, and that eventually happened. We had suspicions, but no concrete way of knowing he spent every day getting high on heroin and cocaine until his overdose confirmed it. I was a little kid; I didn’t recognize the signs, and Dad had years of practice of hiding them from Mom.
