Chapter 10 - Caleb Did Not Look Like A Dead Man
I met my father on Sunday.
Not at the range.
I chose the place.
A crowded diner near campus.
Caleb Reed was fifty-five.
Gray at the temples.
Brown jacket.
Same eyes as mine.
I hated that immediately.
He stood when I approached.
Then stopped himself from reaching for me.
Good.
“Ethan.”
“Caleb.”
His face changed at the name.
Not Dad.
He accepted it.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Don't make it a gift.”
“Fair.”
We sat.
A waitress brought coffee.
He didn't touch his.
I did.
“Why are you alive?”
He almost laughed.
Didn't.
“I never told anyone I wasn't.”
“Great technical defense.”
“I know.”
“Did you know Mom told me you died?”
“No.”
“When did you find out?”
“Two days ago.”
I watched his face.
He looked hurt.
That did not make Claire wrong alone.
“What did you do?”
“Called her.”
My jaw tightened.
“She didn't tell me.”
“I asked if she had told you I was dead.”
“And?”
“She said yes.”
“What did you say?”
Caleb looked down.
“Something unhelpful.”
“Such as?”
“That she stole twelve years.”
Claire hadn't mentioned the call.
Interesting.
“Did she?”
Caleb met my eyes.
“No.”
Good.
He continued:
“She lied to you. I stayed away.”
“Why?”
He took time.
“Pride.”
There.
“More.”
“Fear.”
“More.”
He almost smiled.
“You really are Claire's kid.”
“Keep going.”
Caleb looked out the window.
“Every contact with you became a fight with her.”
“So?”
“I hated being told how to father.”
“Did you know how?”
“No.”
Immediate.
That helped.
“I thought wanting you gave me authority.”
“And?”
“It didn't.”
He looked at his hands.
“When you started resisting visits, I thought Claire had turned you against me.”
“Did she?”
“Some.”
“Only some?”
“Probably.”
Good.
“Why agree to stop visits?”
“You cried the last time I picked you up.”
I remembered sitting in a car with a bag in my lap.
Caleb continued:
“You asked me whether coming with me meant your mom would be alone.”
My throat tightened.
“You were seven.”
He looked ashamed.
“I realized you were tracking adult loneliness every time you got into a car.”
That was too much for a kid.
“What did you do?”
“Told Claire I would stop scheduled visits.”
“Until I asked.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“I thought she would.”
“Of course.”
“I know.”
“Did you call?”
“For a while.”
“Then stopped after her message.”
“Yes.”
“She told you inconsistency was hurting me.”
“Yes.”
“Was she right?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not become consistent?”
Caleb stared at me.
There.
The question.
“I was angry that consistency had become a test.”
I laughed.
“That might be the dumbest thing you've said.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“It was.”
“You wanted fatherhood without someone checking whether you could do it.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then:
“I moved.”
“Overseas.”
“For four years.”
“Did you ever plan to contact me?”
“Constantly.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then planning doesn't count.”
“No.”
Good.
I asked:
“Why keep talking about me to Mason?”
Caleb looked uncomfortable.
“I missed you.”
“So you used him.”
His face tightened.
“Sometimes.”
“What did you compare?”
“Stupid things.”
“Tell me.”
“Baseball.”
“I was terrible.”
“I know.”
“School.”
“Yes.”
“Temper.”
Caleb looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“You turned me into a ghost cousin.”
“That phrase is better than anything I had.”
“Mason hated me.”
“I know now.”
“You didn't notice?”
“I noticed he got tense.”
“And?”
“I thought he was protective of me.”
There.
Caleb had enjoyed being needed.
Just like Mason said.
He continued:
“When I started pulling back six months ago, I told him he needed to decide things without me.”
“After years of deciding with him.”
“Yes.”
“And he panicked.”
“Yes.”
“You created some of that.”
“Yes.”
“No argument?”
“No.”
I sat back.
Then:
“Why did you come to the range?”
Caleb looked at me.
“Walter called.”
“That isn't why you went.”
He knew.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Without letting me see you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid you'd look at me and see a dead man who didn't have the decency to stay dead.”
That line almost worked on me.
I hated that too.
“You still chose.”
“Yes.”
“From upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“You could have left.”
“Yes.”
“You could have introduced yourself.”
“Yes.”
“You did neither.”
“No.”
I looked at the coffee.
“What do you want now?”
Caleb's eyes stayed on me.
“To know you.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It is also selfish.”
Better.
He continued:
“I want you to know me too, but only if you decide it's worth the trouble.”
I laughed quietly.
“You rehearsed that.”
May you like
“Yes.”
Finally, something easy to believe.
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