We could take Nash’s kids camping.
I wonder if they’ve ever been. We could sing songs and toast marshmallows, collect bugs and tell scary stories. When the kids go to bed, Nash and I could sit under these same stars. We could talk about our week and plans for the future. We could give each other blow jobs by the campfire, trying to stay quiet enough the kids don’t hear us.
I sigh at how much I miss something I’ve never had. Not the blow jobs. All of it.
My dad asks, “You want to talk about it?”
I say, “Holy fuck!” and tumble backwards off the porch, because it is fucking dark out here. So dark I don’t see the first step as I flail, and especially so dark that my dad comes out of nowhere—this disembodied voice that floated over my shoulder with no warning that he was outside.
“Are you okay?” Dad asks.
At least I land on soft grass. I glare up at him from where I’m sprawled on my ass. He’s this dark outline, the sort of thing that haunts your nightmares.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I heard you get up.”
“And you thought scaring the shit out of me was a good way to bond?”
He helps me to my feet. I’m going to have a bruise on my hip. I stagger to the porch, but at the last second, I sink down onto the old wooden steps because going back inside feels confining.
My dad stays where he is on the grass.
I say, “I don’t think I can do it anymore.”
Dad asks, “What part?”
I don’t want to talk about this, but the words tumble out like vomit. “The business. All of it. It’s too much. I don’t sleep, I’m never home. I have no friends.”
“You do work a lot,” my dad says. “Must be hard.”
“And I don’t know why I’m doing it anymore.”
Dad sits next to me. The stairs aren’t wide, and we’re a tight fit, but I don’t mind.
“Have you talked to Nash about this? He seems like a smart guy.”
Hardly. “Nash and I broke up.” My voice wobbles. I miss him so much. Stupid uptight asshole.
“Oh.” Dad doesn’t sound very surprised. “That’s a shame. You two seemed to get along well.”
I snort. “Yeah, except for the part where he likes making decisions about our relationship without talking to me first.”
He’s quiet for a long time. Crickets fill in the silence. Finally, Dad says, “If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore...”
“Not like that. He had—one of his kids is having problems at school. He’s so scared of letting them down. He said he needed to spend more time with them.”
My dad sighs heavily, leaning back on his elbows. “You can’t ask a man to choose between his children and you. That’s not how—”
“I know, all right?” I swipe at my nose and my watery eyes. I’m not crying. I’m not. “I would never do that. I just wanted him to talk to me instead of deciding it was over on his own. Or treating me like another kid he has to deal with instead of someone who could help.”
“You’re your own man, Brady.”
“I am. I don’t know why he couldn’t see that.”
“Maybe he did. You’ve accomplished so much these last few years. I’m really proud of you, even if I worry about how busy you are.”
I wipe one cheek on my sleeve. “Thanks, Dad.”
