Page 81 of The Art of Drowning

I knew he had to be thinking about Sam. About his parents. About every interaction he’d ever had and wondering if this information really changed anything all that much. I know it would make me question everything.

“What if it’s true?” Callum asked. “What if it’s not?”

“Is there one you’d prefer? I mean, is there an outcome you’re hoping for? Maybe it would help if you thought about what kind of things you want to say to them and how you want them to respond.”

“All I want is the truth. I can figure out the rest after.” He got to his feet. “Did you need to borrow something to wear?”

“That might be a good idea.” We were about the same size still, so he loaned me a pair of pants and a dark long-sleeve shirt. It was weird to see grown-up clothes in his closet instead of nothing but graphic tees and shirts with profanity on them.

“Are you ready?” I asked, grabbing my keys and stuffing my wallet in my pocket.

“As ready as I’m going to get,” he confirmed. He paused before leaving to pet Crudinski. He had an automatic food and water dish set up for him, but a neighbor was still going to drop in and check on him once a day. “For luck,” he told me as he scratched behind Crudinski’s ears.

When I scratched behind the other one, he looked at me and shot me a little smile.

“For luck,” I repeated, hoping it was on our side.

THIRTY-NINE

callum

NOW

We drove all day and despite the urgency I felt to get answers, there was also dread swirling around inside me. The closer we got, the more keenly I felt it. I’d convince myself that some things were better left buried in one hour and then in the next, I’d be practically climbing the walls, ready to get in front of my parents and demand answers from them.

“Did you want to stop for dinner first?” Damien asked me as we pulled into town. When it became clear that I was too worked up to pay proper attention to the road, he’d solely taken over driving duties. He’d been patient with me all day while I fiddled in the passenger seat, changing music stations on his satellite radio every second song. Constantly shifting around like I had ants in my pants. The man had the patience of a saint.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather get this over with.”

Damien reached across the seat and dropped a hand onto mine and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you,” I blurted, moved by the gesture of comfort. “I couldn’t do this without you.” Without Damien, I’d probably still be at home, curled up in a ball of depressed anxiety. I’d spend the next six months in a deep state of denial before trying to fix anything.

It struck me like a bolt of lightning that this was the first time I felt like I had anyone on my side. For years, it had been me against the world. I’d stopped trying to lean on my parents years ago when it became clear that there was this wall between us. I wasn’t sure when it went up or how to get around it, only that the wall looked a lot like Sam.

The hatred I had for him made my stomach twist. It was a good thing I’d said no to dinner because I was certain I couldn’t keep anything down. Damien turned down my old street and my guts twisted again.

“Breathe,” Damien told me, slowing the car as he approached the driveway. “Breathe, Callum. You can do this. Or not. We can just keep going.”

“No. No, we can’t. I need to talk to them.” Resolve settled me, at least to the point that I no longer felt like I was going to hurl.

Damien pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll never be ready, but I’m doing this anyway.” I got out of the car and was comforted when Damien followed me. He fell into step beside me and put his hand on my lower back. I knocked on the door, then stepped closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort.

The door swung open and my dad stood there looking older, and grayer, and sadder than the last time I saw him.

“Cal?” He stepped back to let us inside and called out to my mom. “It’s Callum. And Damien.”

Dad shut the door, and Damien and I took our shoes off.

“This is a nice surprise,” Dad said. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I know,” I said. My throat was tight and my eyes burned as I tried to keep it together. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to look him in the face and know that he wasn’t my dad.

“Can we talk?” I reached for Damien and linked my hand with his.

Dad’s gaze flicked to our joined hands, and it looked like he would have smiled but couldn’t remember how.