Chasing Impossible
Page 49
The world spins. “Where am I supposed to go? Do?”
“Denny’s working on it. I knew you’d eventually surface and figured you’d contact him for help once Eric told you the truth. Denny is getting together a new identity for you. New background. He’s going to raise you a year in age so you can find a job.”
I don’t even get to finish high school. I don’t even get the option of Harvard or a state school or junior college or even something online. “You’re going to make me disappear again? Like me...like Abby never existed?”
Dad nods, not seeing how he’s taken a knife and has gutted me open. Yes, I hated the Abby I was becoming, but at times, I like the girl she was and I was in love with the girl she was going to be. Tears prick my eyes as I already mourn her and then turn my head to avoid a dry heave at the thought that no one will care if and when I disappear again.
“What about Grams?”
“She’s dying.” He says it as if she’s already dead. As if he’s already grieved for her and his loss is already years removed. He says it with as much emotion as when he discussed me becoming somebody new. “I’ve heard she no longer has much of an idea of who she is or where she’s at. Mac will put her in a nursing home, and he’ll try to find a good one.”
My head falls back, and I rub my hands over my eyes and this anger, this fear, this utter and complete sadness causes me to want to weep, but I have to choke down the burn in my throat. “I promised to take care of her.”
Dad does something rare. He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You did and now it’s time to take care of yourself.”
“I could always be running,” I say.
“But it’s better than dead.” He pauses. “I may not have always done right by you. Given you the type of home you should have had. But I gave you what I had.”
When Dad goes to pull back, I grasp his hand. Needing his love. Needing his comfort. I think of that picture, the one he always carried on his phone. Of me covered in dirt, barely clothed, barely fed and wonder how, when he met me, he could feel anything other than disgust.
“You shouldn’t have taken me in,” I say, and all the guilt I’ve shoved down to the deepest and darkest parts of me surfaces and it’s the equivalent of being pummeled by an avalanche of boulders. “You wouldn’t be in here if it wasn’t for me.”
My father killed a man because of me.
Dad squeezes my hand then lets go. This time, I have to let him leave. “He threatened you and he would have hurt you, too, just to hurt me. I broke my own rule on caring and it backfired.”
Backfired because love isn’t allowed in hell and I don’t want to live in hell anymore.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, knowing if I don’t ask now I may never receive an answer. “Why did you take me in?” Even when you knew I wasn’t your child.
“We all have to pay for our sins,” he says. “When I saw you, I thought maybe saving you would take care of past ones and any future ones, as well. I never thought I’d care for you though. That was unexpected.”
“I love you,” I say, and it’s like my tongue twists with the words. We don’t say things like this to one another, but there’s a chance I’ll never see him again.
Dad grins, and it’s so shocking beautiful that it takes my breath away. “You were worth it, Abby. Having you around always made it all worth it.”
He looks at the clock and I know he wants to make it back to his cell before he’s caught in here longer than he wants to be. Once we go past a certain time, he has to stay in here regardless. Brief visits work better for him. He stands and so do I.
Dad mumbles something to the guard near us that he’s saying goodbye, and we briefly hug and it’s not nearly as long as I wish it could be. The ends of my mouth tremble, no matter how hard I try to keep them from moving. It’s even more difficult to blink away the wetness invading the edges of my eyes.
He kisses my temple and releases me, leaving me feeling cold and like I might collapse to the floor. A part of me still feels like I’m three, a part of me still needs my daddy.
Before he walks through the door to his side, Dad glances over his shoulder and raises his hand in goodbye.
“What was my name?” I ask, and don’t care that several people stop talking to stare at us.
“True,” he says. “She named you True.”
And just like I popped into his life all those years ago, he disappears from mine. I turn and begin the long road to absolutely nowhere.
Logan
I unlock the front door to Abby’s grandmother’s house and walk in before Abby does to check out the place. Isaiah’s staying on the front porch to act as guard. A quick glance around, Nadia places her finger to her mouth then points to Abby’s grandmother, who has nodded off in the hospital bed in the front room. I wave Abby in and she drops her bag to the ground and heads straight for her grandmother.
Abby told me and Isaiah everything her father said on the ride back to Louisville and when she ran out of things to say, she rested her temple against the window and watched the world race past. She looked alone and lost and she’s breaking my heart.
“How is she?” Abby asks.
“Tired.” Nadia offers a safe answer. Her eyes flicker from me to Abby and when they rest back on me, she tilts her head to let me know she’s heading to the kitchen. I nod that Abby and I are good.
Abby perches herself on the edge of the bed and takes her grandmother’s hand. “Grams, I need you to wake up for me.” She waits a few seconds then tries again in a louder voice. “Grams, please wake up.”
“Abby,” I start, but then her grandmother’s eyes flutter open.
Abby smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears. “Hi, Grams.”
The old woman’s eyes widen and she looks wildly about the room.
“It’s me. It’s Abby. I’ve missed you.”
Abby’s grandmother turns her head now and I shift, feeling uncomfortable. She’s searching for something familiar and it’s going to kill Abby that Abby isn’t who she remembers.
“I saw Dad,” she says. “He misses you, too.”
Abby’s grandmother’s voice cracks, but she doesn’t say anything intelligible, but does move her other hand to cover Abby’s. It’s the same type of movement a child waking from a bad dream would do—reach out to the nearest adult, to the one who can scare the monsters away.
“Can I read to you, Grams?” Abby grabs the book off the table, and I decide to wait with Isaiah on the front porch. I can’t stick around and watch Abby say goodbye.
The old door groans when I open it and it groans again when I shut it. Isaiah has his hip cocked against the railing and watches me as I mirror his position on the other side of the ramp.
“I keep trying to figure out another way this can end, but I can’t find the solution,” I say.
“Not sure there is one,” Isaiah answers. “Choices like the ones Abby made have consequences. None of them pretty. Sucks, because you figured out where you stand.”
“I love her.”
Isaiah nods and we stare out on the quiet neighborhood and the tranquil world Abby and her father had created. When I first came here, I thought this life was Abby’s lie and now I realize that the drug dealer was the front.
“You did good, man,” Isaiah offers. “Not too many guys would be firm enough in themselves to love her like you did.”
“Running into an alley? Any of us would have done that.”
“Naw, guys are good at running in, but most of the time, they run back out when things get rough and before the job is done.” Isaiah meets my eyes. “You gave up your darkest secret to save her. Takes a strong guy to love like that. Takes a guy who knows who he is.”
I mull over Isaiah’s words as I watch a bird fuss over a nest in the tall maple in the front yard. When I first met Abby, Dad was right, I didn’t have a clue who I was, but throughout the past months of knowing Abby, the past few weeks, the past few days, I figured it out.
I may not have a clue what I want to do with the rest of my life like West, Chris, Noah, Ryan, and Isaiah, but as I try to figure it out, at least I’ll know who I already am. Because what I do for money, what is going on with my health, is only a portion of who I am—not the entire picture.
“There has to be another way for Abby to get out of drug dealing than for her to disappear,” I rephrase the statement from before. “Another way that doesn’t mean her leaving.”
Isaiah stays silent and it’s the kind that’s like being at the end of the funeral and nobody wants to leave. He’s losing his sister. I’m losing the girl I’m in love with. Unless we come up with a better solution, to love her is to let her go.
Abby
Grams has been asleep a lot longer than I’d care to admit and I close the book. For years I kept her a secret. I told stories, manipulated, and lied to keep her safe and now I’m abandoning her because I don’t want to sell drugs anymore. Because Dad can’t guarantee I’m safe within my organization. Because I don’t want to be deeper than I already am and by doing this I’ll lose everything I love.
“Denny’s working on it. I knew you’d eventually surface and figured you’d contact him for help once Eric told you the truth. Denny is getting together a new identity for you. New background. He’s going to raise you a year in age so you can find a job.”
I don’t even get to finish high school. I don’t even get the option of Harvard or a state school or junior college or even something online. “You’re going to make me disappear again? Like me...like Abby never existed?”
Dad nods, not seeing how he’s taken a knife and has gutted me open. Yes, I hated the Abby I was becoming, but at times, I like the girl she was and I was in love with the girl she was going to be. Tears prick my eyes as I already mourn her and then turn my head to avoid a dry heave at the thought that no one will care if and when I disappear again.
“What about Grams?”
“She’s dying.” He says it as if she’s already dead. As if he’s already grieved for her and his loss is already years removed. He says it with as much emotion as when he discussed me becoming somebody new. “I’ve heard she no longer has much of an idea of who she is or where she’s at. Mac will put her in a nursing home, and he’ll try to find a good one.”
My head falls back, and I rub my hands over my eyes and this anger, this fear, this utter and complete sadness causes me to want to weep, but I have to choke down the burn in my throat. “I promised to take care of her.”
Dad does something rare. He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You did and now it’s time to take care of yourself.”
“I could always be running,” I say.
“But it’s better than dead.” He pauses. “I may not have always done right by you. Given you the type of home you should have had. But I gave you what I had.”
When Dad goes to pull back, I grasp his hand. Needing his love. Needing his comfort. I think of that picture, the one he always carried on his phone. Of me covered in dirt, barely clothed, barely fed and wonder how, when he met me, he could feel anything other than disgust.
“You shouldn’t have taken me in,” I say, and all the guilt I’ve shoved down to the deepest and darkest parts of me surfaces and it’s the equivalent of being pummeled by an avalanche of boulders. “You wouldn’t be in here if it wasn’t for me.”
My father killed a man because of me.
Dad squeezes my hand then lets go. This time, I have to let him leave. “He threatened you and he would have hurt you, too, just to hurt me. I broke my own rule on caring and it backfired.”
Backfired because love isn’t allowed in hell and I don’t want to live in hell anymore.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, knowing if I don’t ask now I may never receive an answer. “Why did you take me in?” Even when you knew I wasn’t your child.
“We all have to pay for our sins,” he says. “When I saw you, I thought maybe saving you would take care of past ones and any future ones, as well. I never thought I’d care for you though. That was unexpected.”
“I love you,” I say, and it’s like my tongue twists with the words. We don’t say things like this to one another, but there’s a chance I’ll never see him again.
Dad grins, and it’s so shocking beautiful that it takes my breath away. “You were worth it, Abby. Having you around always made it all worth it.”
He looks at the clock and I know he wants to make it back to his cell before he’s caught in here longer than he wants to be. Once we go past a certain time, he has to stay in here regardless. Brief visits work better for him. He stands and so do I.
Dad mumbles something to the guard near us that he’s saying goodbye, and we briefly hug and it’s not nearly as long as I wish it could be. The ends of my mouth tremble, no matter how hard I try to keep them from moving. It’s even more difficult to blink away the wetness invading the edges of my eyes.
He kisses my temple and releases me, leaving me feeling cold and like I might collapse to the floor. A part of me still feels like I’m three, a part of me still needs my daddy.
Before he walks through the door to his side, Dad glances over his shoulder and raises his hand in goodbye.
“What was my name?” I ask, and don’t care that several people stop talking to stare at us.
“True,” he says. “She named you True.”
And just like I popped into his life all those years ago, he disappears from mine. I turn and begin the long road to absolutely nowhere.
Logan
I unlock the front door to Abby’s grandmother’s house and walk in before Abby does to check out the place. Isaiah’s staying on the front porch to act as guard. A quick glance around, Nadia places her finger to her mouth then points to Abby’s grandmother, who has nodded off in the hospital bed in the front room. I wave Abby in and she drops her bag to the ground and heads straight for her grandmother.
Abby told me and Isaiah everything her father said on the ride back to Louisville and when she ran out of things to say, she rested her temple against the window and watched the world race past. She looked alone and lost and she’s breaking my heart.
“How is she?” Abby asks.
“Tired.” Nadia offers a safe answer. Her eyes flicker from me to Abby and when they rest back on me, she tilts her head to let me know she’s heading to the kitchen. I nod that Abby and I are good.
Abby perches herself on the edge of the bed and takes her grandmother’s hand. “Grams, I need you to wake up for me.” She waits a few seconds then tries again in a louder voice. “Grams, please wake up.”
“Abby,” I start, but then her grandmother’s eyes flutter open.
Abby smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears. “Hi, Grams.”
The old woman’s eyes widen and she looks wildly about the room.
“It’s me. It’s Abby. I’ve missed you.”
Abby’s grandmother turns her head now and I shift, feeling uncomfortable. She’s searching for something familiar and it’s going to kill Abby that Abby isn’t who she remembers.
“I saw Dad,” she says. “He misses you, too.”
Abby’s grandmother’s voice cracks, but she doesn’t say anything intelligible, but does move her other hand to cover Abby’s. It’s the same type of movement a child waking from a bad dream would do—reach out to the nearest adult, to the one who can scare the monsters away.
“Can I read to you, Grams?” Abby grabs the book off the table, and I decide to wait with Isaiah on the front porch. I can’t stick around and watch Abby say goodbye.
The old door groans when I open it and it groans again when I shut it. Isaiah has his hip cocked against the railing and watches me as I mirror his position on the other side of the ramp.
“I keep trying to figure out another way this can end, but I can’t find the solution,” I say.
“Not sure there is one,” Isaiah answers. “Choices like the ones Abby made have consequences. None of them pretty. Sucks, because you figured out where you stand.”
“I love her.”
Isaiah nods and we stare out on the quiet neighborhood and the tranquil world Abby and her father had created. When I first came here, I thought this life was Abby’s lie and now I realize that the drug dealer was the front.
“You did good, man,” Isaiah offers. “Not too many guys would be firm enough in themselves to love her like you did.”
“Running into an alley? Any of us would have done that.”
“Naw, guys are good at running in, but most of the time, they run back out when things get rough and before the job is done.” Isaiah meets my eyes. “You gave up your darkest secret to save her. Takes a strong guy to love like that. Takes a guy who knows who he is.”
I mull over Isaiah’s words as I watch a bird fuss over a nest in the tall maple in the front yard. When I first met Abby, Dad was right, I didn’t have a clue who I was, but throughout the past months of knowing Abby, the past few weeks, the past few days, I figured it out.
I may not have a clue what I want to do with the rest of my life like West, Chris, Noah, Ryan, and Isaiah, but as I try to figure it out, at least I’ll know who I already am. Because what I do for money, what is going on with my health, is only a portion of who I am—not the entire picture.
“There has to be another way for Abby to get out of drug dealing than for her to disappear,” I rephrase the statement from before. “Another way that doesn’t mean her leaving.”
Isaiah stays silent and it’s the kind that’s like being at the end of the funeral and nobody wants to leave. He’s losing his sister. I’m losing the girl I’m in love with. Unless we come up with a better solution, to love her is to let her go.
Abby
Grams has been asleep a lot longer than I’d care to admit and I close the book. For years I kept her a secret. I told stories, manipulated, and lied to keep her safe and now I’m abandoning her because I don’t want to sell drugs anymore. Because Dad can’t guarantee I’m safe within my organization. Because I don’t want to be deeper than I already am and by doing this I’ll lose everything I love.
