He reached out, put his hand on my upper arm and gently squeezed it. I handed him the paper that had the sweat from my hand in a lower corner. Oh shit! The cat was out of the bag now. He now knew that I was the child of a criminal. While he read it, I began tomumble.
“I need some more time with theproject.”
Through watering eyes, I searched in my backpack for my notebook to prove to him that I had started it. I pulled it out and flipped through the pages until I discovered it. I turned the notebook around to face him so he couldsee.
“See, I have it started. I just can’t concentrate on it right now. I mean, I will keep working on it this weekend. But the funeral hasn’t been planned yet. I guess there are some procedural things that have to take placeand–”
“Ryan, calm down. It’sokay.”
He took my notebook from me and closed it before handing it back to me with my mom’sletter.
“How long had your father been inprison?”
“Uh, he went in during the fall of my freshman yearhere.”
“How long was heserving?”
I looked away and wiped my eyes. I was sure he knew I was crying, though it made no sense to me. My dad had been terrible tome.
“Life,” I exhaled loudly with the breath I had beenholding.
“Ryan, I’m so very sorry. I can’t imagine how you’refeeling.”
“It’s okay.” I swallowed hard and tried to move the lump in my throat to get myself in check. I took another deep breath and managed a weak smile. “It’s okay. I just need an extension,please.”
“Of course, Ryan. How are your otherclasses?”
“I only have two others, and I think I can manage to keep up. It was just this project for your class, I knew I needed more time forit.”
“Who are yourprofessors?”
Why was he asking me this?I was afraid to tell him, but also afraid that if I didn’t tell him that he’d take away my extensionapproval.
“Are you making it to those classes? If not, I would talk to them about what’s going on. They will understand, Ryan. This is a very hard time, especially for a young adult.” He reached to the desk to his side and grabbed a piece of paper to write something on it before he handed it to me. “We have counselors who help students with grief, Ryan. Death of a loved one is never easy, and the death of a parent can be debilitating. Young adults, you college kids, are under so much stress here at school, that it’s easy for you to get lost in what’simportant.”
“I’m okay, professor. Ipromise.”
I don’t think he believed me, but he had granted me theextension.
That night, I took the bus from my place to my mom’s. Chad called me and said that Mom was able to start planning the funeral. He suggested that I come over to help. Against my better judgment, I wentover.
As I walked into the kitchen, my mom was crying about costs for the funeral. Marie was sitting across from my mom and winked at me when I walked in. Mom looked annoyed and lashed out atMarie.
“Don’t be winking at my baby, the ungratefulsonthat he is.” I rolled my eyes and sat down. “And where the hell have youbeen?”
“School.”
“Your goddamn precious school.” She shook her head in disgust and lit up a cigarette. “We’re trying to plan a funeral for your father, and you’re out fucking around at school. You wait until your father gets home. He’s going to whip that ass ofyours.”
I quickly looked up at Chad and then Marie to see if either of them had caught onto Mom switching the past with the present almost in the same breath. This wasn’t normal, wasit?
“Stress, Ry,” Chad said and went back to looking at a catalog from the funeral home of caskets. “How about this one?” Chad turned the catalog around for all of us tosee.
While they talked about the casket, I set the paper down on the table that I had taken to school to get my extension on my project. My movement and the paper halted all conversation, and my mom picked itup.
“Where did you get this?” sheasked.
“I came home this morning. I was looking for something to show my professors so that I could get an extension on my project,” Iadmitted.
