Epilogue
Dax
After two months of nothing but going to therapy and sitting around the house, I was more than ready to get back to work. Michael’s couch was comfortable, but I was sick of it. I was without anything to keep me occupied. The highlight of my day was when Jagger got home from school. Every day, he asked when I was coming back because he didn’t care for my substitute. I’d worried I wouldn’t have a job when I was cleared to go back to work, but the superintendent had personally stopped by to let me know my place would be waiting. And from the sounds of it, my students would be glad to have me back.
When I heard footsteps on the porch, I shifted on the couch. Then the bell rang. I reached for my cane and pushed myself up. I hated the stupid thing, but it was better than falling into walls when my hip gave out. Which it did more often than I’d ever tell anyone. I debated slamming the door closed the moment I saw who was on the other side.
“Hello, Thomas,” I greeted him. I used my body to block his view to the inside of the house, even though it was immaculate. Michael had been a bit anal about making sure there was nothing on the floor for me to trip over, no matter how many times I reminded him that it was normal for kids to leave toys out to play with later.
“May I come in?” he asked, seeming a bit less cocky than the last time I saw him.
“Michael’s not home,” I informed him.
“I know,” he admitted. “I was hoping to get a chance to speak with you, first.”
Making him sweat seemed like a good idea, but I needed to sit back down and the cold did nothing for my comfort. I opened the door but didn’t wait to see if he was following me as I hobbled back to the couch. He could kiss my ass if he thought I was going to offer him anything to drink.
“Please, sit,” I urged him. This was our home, and I wasn’t going to allow him to hover over me. He sat uncomfortably at the edge of the chair across the room from me and stared out the window. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”
I was about ready to tell him to get out if he planned on wasting my afternoon, when he finally began to speak. “I’m sure Michael has told you I’m a callous jerk. And to some extent, he’s right. I go after what I want, often without considering the implications for others. And sometimes, that means I go about things the wrong way.”
“You do realize I’m not a priest and this isn’t a confessional, right?”
“I know that.” He paused and the two of us entered a staring contest. He broke first. “Look, I’m trying to apologize here.”
“Let me give you a tip. Normally, you start by saying you’re sorry,” I told him much the same way I would one of my students. “You need to make sure the other person knows why you’re sorry, and you need to explain what you’ll do to keep from repeating your mistakes. And that’s the important part, because apologizing if you don’t intend to not hurt someone in the future doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’m not a child,” he hissed. I decided it’d be lost on him to point out that he was kind of acting like one. Thomas sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m sorry, Dax. I made judgments about you without knowing who you were as a man. I’ve heard what you did for my grandson, and I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am to you for saving him.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I said bluntly.
“No, I know that.” He folded his hands in his lap, playing with his wedding band. “Still, I owe you. I’m not sure what it would’ve done to my wife if she’d lost him. She practically has already, but she’s holding out hope that we’ll have a relationship with him someday.”
“That’d probably happen if Michael felt he could trust you,” I told him. “You seem to forget that he’s lost just as much as you.”
Thomas shook his head. “Not really, but I understand what you’re saying. Listen, I don’t want to argue semantics here. I just wanted to let you know that I was wrong to think there was something depraved about you and Michael. And I’m a big enough man to admit when I’m wrong.”
“Thank you, but I’m really not the man you need to apologize to or beg forgiveness from,” I said coldly.
With impeccable timing, the front door opened and Michael and Jagger walked in. He’d been flying high all day, knowing that tonight was his last shift at the bar. He’d been offered a job in the business office of a clinic in Abelman, with the opportunity to finish school if he chose. The best part was that meant he’d be home for dinner every night, and we’d get to function like a normal family rather than ships passing in the night once I went back to work. “Babe, we’re home. I thought we’d see about getting out for a bit. You’re supposed to be up and—”
His good mood instantly soured. His hands balled into tight fists and I could see the muscles in his jaw contracting as he ground his teeth.
Thomas stood and had the decency to look worried. “Michael, I’m sorry to stop by unannounced. I was just telling your partner how sorry I am for my ignorant accusations before.”
Michael didn’t take Thomas’s proffered hand and sat next to me on the couch. Jagger followed suit and jumped up in his lap. I chuckled as I thought about the united front we were showing to Jagger’s grandfather. It was how we operated, just like the Three Musketeers, Justin liked to tease.
“You certainly were every bit of that,” Michael agreed.
“I’d like to fix this,” Thomas said, motioning toward the space between them, symbolic of the very real divide. “We both miss Jagger. And Connie’s threatened to leave me if I can’t find a way to make you see that we’re not trying to punish you for Erica’s death.”
And there was the real reason he was here. It didn’t have a damn thing to do with him being the better man or wanting to mend fences. He was simply hoping to save the illusion of his marriage.
Michael whispered something to Jagger. He jumped down and ran off to our bedroom, turning the television on to one of his cartoons. Michael took my hand in his and sat still as stone. “If you want a relationship with your grandson, that’s one thing. But if you’re simply here as a way to save your sham of a marriage, I suggest you walk away before I tell you what I really think about you.”
This wasn’t the way I expected the conversation to go. “Michael, he’s trying. Hear him out.”
Michael turned to me and he was pissed. “No, Dax. There’s no reason for me to listen to anything he has to say. He was more than willing to sit there and tell me what a deviant piece of shit I am because I fell in love with you. If we hadn’t been called away because of the accident, I have no doubt he’d have started spewing verses from the Bible he likes to clutch every Sunday. The problem with that is he’s conveniently ignoring every verse about adultery.”
