Offside (54 page)

“Thomas?”

I didn't recognize the voice, but as soon as I looked up, I knew exactly who he was.

It was like looking into some kind of fucked-up mirror that would show you how you were going to look twenty or so years into the future. Same color hair that didn't seem too interested in staying where it was put, same eyes, and he even stood the same way I did—rocking back and forth from one foot to the other. He looked nervous.

“Thomas Gardner,” I said softly, and his eyes widened.

“You know who I am?” He sounded shocked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“I didn't realize…I didn't know he told you…about me.”

“He didn't,” I clarified. “I found a letter you sent.”

My stomach felt weird, like it was all tied up, or maybe I had just been sitting too long. Thomas Gardner ran his hand through his hair, and I had to stop myself from laughing. It was just too surreal.

“Look, um…Thomas,” he said, “I know you're going through all kinds of shit right now…”

He smacked his hand on his forehead.

“Fuck! I shouldn't swear in front of you!” He realized his second mistake and cringed.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that point, and he smiled sheepishly.

“I just wanted to meet you…maybe talk to you?” The poor guy looked terrified, and I felt sorry for him as he stammered through his words. “I heard about…I mean, I saw the news report about…about your dad. I didn't know if…well, if you knew…shit.”

He shook his head violently.

“I'm already fucking this up,” he mumbled.

“It's okay,” I said.

He looked at me intently for a minute.

“I didn't want you to be alone,” he finally said. “We don't know each other, but I…I…I just wanted you to know…shit.”

I smiled again, turning away a bit so he wouldn’t notice.

“Can we talk?” he asked. I looked back to him. I was pretty sure we already were. “I mean, away from here? Maybe get coffee? Do you like coffee?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Coke or something? And not now—I know not now—but I have a hotel room in town. I'll stay as long as I have to…I just…wanted to see you. Talk to you.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “that would be okay.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, and his mouth turned up into an all-too-familiar half-grin. He dug around in his pocket and handed me a partially crumpled business card. “Whenever you're ready, just call and…I'll come get you…oh, shit…my car probably isn't big enough…shit!”

“It's okay,” I said. He looked like he was going to have a total breakdown. “My girlfriend can take me.”

“That brunette?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“You guys seem…close.”

“We are.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I mean…that's what I was worried about. I didn't know if…if you had anyone.”

“I'm okay,” I said.

“Good,” he said again. He nodded briefly. “So…maybe call me in a couple days or something?”

He looked so hopeful, it was just…cute. Weird to say about a guy who had to be about forty or so, but it fit.

“Sure,” I said. I looked at the card in my hand.

Professor Thomas Gardner

Chicago Art Institute

312-555-7289

An art professor? My skin felt kind of tingly, and a bunch of little explosions were going off in my head as more pieces to the Malone family puzzle started falling into place.

“You're an artist?”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I mean, I teach it, but I do sell some paintings and stuff, too. Sometimes.”

“Cool,” I said.

“You think?” Again, he sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” I said.

He paused for a long moment.

“Do you still sketch?” he asked quietly.

I shrugged.

“Not for a while,” I admitted.

“Now might be a good time…” His sentence trailed off, and he ran his hand through his hair again. He looked back down at me and took a deep breath. “I’m not very good at this.”

I smiled back.

“You’re okay,” I reassured him.

I heard footsteps and felt Nicole's hands grip the back of the chair.

“Thomas?” she said quietly.

“Yeah, um…Nicole?” I turned slightly to look at her. “This is Thomas Gardner…my…um…my father. I guess.”

Her eyes went wide, and I could see she was checking him out, looking from him to me as she made comparisons in her head. We had already discussed my biological father while we were in the hospital—Doctor Winchester had been trying to determine how much I remembered—but Nicole and I hadn’t really talked about it at length.

“I guess he is,” she replied.

“This is Nicole,” I told him. They shook hands quickly.

“I'm glad Thomas has someone,” he said. He ran his hands through his hair once more and then rubbed his palms against his legs. “I should let you go. I'm sure you have…um…things to do. I'm really sorry about your dad, Thomas.”

I nodded. I'd been doing that a lot as everyone said the same words to me. I wasn't sure if I was sorry or not.

“Call me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I will.”

“Thanks.” He took a big breath and looked out to the parking lot. “I should let you go…um…I guess I said that. I'll be going now. I’m really glad I got to meet you.”

He held out his hand and I shook it.

Our hands looked the same, too.

He said goodbye to both of us and walked around the Jeep toward the lot. Nicole's hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked up at her again.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, “I'm good.”

“Are you going to call him?”

“I think so,” I said. I furrowed my brow. “Do you think I should?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

Greg appeared and held the door while I got myself in the car as he folded up the chair and placed it in the back. He headed to his cruiser while Nicole got in the driver's seat. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before starting up the Jeep and heading toward her house.

As we drove away, I looked back toward the place where my dad's body would lie for the rest of whatever. I still didn't know exactly how I felt about all of it, but I did feel like I was stepping into a new, better world.

Cassius spoke of Caesar when Shakespeare gave him the line: “Men at some time are masters of their fates.” Somehow, I thought maybe I was going to finally be given the opportunity to decide my own destiny.

Now to make it come to fruition.

It was a short drive to Nicole and Greg's house, and my mind bounced back and forth between reciting the conversation with…with my…with Thomas Gardner…over and over again and wondering just how in the fuck I was going to actually get myself up either the six steps on the front porch or getting all the way around to the back of the house to get up the three steps there. Neither option seemed that great, but Greg was right about one thing—I didn't want to be back in my own house again.

Nicole parked the Jeep behind the cruiser, and Greg was already getting my chair out of the back when I opened the passenger door and swung my legs out. He brought the chair around and I got myself in. Then Nicole grabbed the back and started pushing me toward the side of the house.

“What the fuck?” I said as I glanced over to Greg, who was standing at the end of what looked to be a brand new walkway off the left side of the house. Nicole chuckled as she pushed me onto the sidewalk of obviously new concrete. It was narrow, but still had room enough for the wheels of my chair to have a few inches of clearance on either side. “When did you do this?”

“Oh…fairly recently,” Greg said as he walked ahead of us. Nicole turned the corner to the back of the house, and I saw they had installed a ramp to get up the back steps. “The ramp's not quite permanent—I wanted to make sure the angle was right and you didn't have any problems getting up on your own. Want to give it a try?”

I just sat there and stared at him with my bottom lip getting closer and closer to my chest. They had actually had a sidewalk and a ramp made for me. My throat felt a little tight as I looked backwards at Nicole.

“You guys…had this made?”

She nodded, smiling a little.

“You have to be able to get in and out on your own, don't you think?”

“I…” I didn't know what I should say. I looked from Nicole to Greg and then to the ramp.

“Go on now!” Greg said with a big sweep of his hand toward the ramp.

I grasped the handholds above the wheels and pushed myself forward a little. The ramp wasn't too steep, and after a couple of restarts, I made it to the door without too much trouble. Nicole started clapping, which earned her a glare from me, but it was pretty quickly followed by a smirk. I reached up and tried to open the door, but since it swung outward, I had to reposition myself a bit to get it open. I had to navigate a bit of a bump over the threshold, but then I was inside.

My mouth dropped open again.

The Skye residence wasn't a big one at all with the lower floor mostly consisting of the front and back exits with a decent sized living room between them and an open kitchen off to the side. The back half of the living room had been partitioned off with what looked like the walls from cubicles you would find in an office. On the other side was a bed with rails I could use to get myself in and out, a dresser, and a nightstand. As Greg and Nicole came in behind me, they showed me what used to be a walk-in coat closet, now converted into a small bathroom.

“Holy shit,” I murmured. I looked from Greg to Nicole again, and they were both all smiles.

“We got the shorter toilet and sink,” Greg said, “so it would be easier for you to reach. It's still going to be a little crowded because the room just isn't that big, but I think it will work.”

I wheeled over to get a better look, but I was pretty sure it would all work fine. The dresser was long but short, so I could reach all the drawers from the wheelchair, and there was even a little docking station on the nightstand for my iPhone.

I had to swallow hard to keep myself from tearing up.

“You guys didn't have to do any of this,” I said quietly. I wasn't sure if I was more embarrassed or more wonderstruck. Then it hit me how much this probably cost to have it all done, and I freaked a little. Greg's salary had to be pretty much shit in this little town. There's no way they could afford this. I turned to him with my eyes narrowed. “What did this run you?”

“Don't you worry about—”

“Bullshit!” I yelled back. “There is no way—no
way
you are going to pay for all of this!”

“Thomas…” Nicole started.

“No!” I said, adamantly. “I'm going to have a big freaking chunk dropped in my lap from Dad's insurance, and there is no way you are paying for all of this!”

“Look here,” Greg said with a bit of impatience, “I decided to do this, and I'll pay for it however I want!”

“Absolutely not!”

“I will!”

“Bullshit,” I repeated.

“Stop swearing,” Greg retorted. “You saved my daughter's life, and there is no way I can possibly ever repay you for that. You're in that damn chair because you saved her, and I'll do whatever the hell I please to make you comfortable here!”

“Dammit!” I yelled. “If it wasn't for my dad, I would have driven Nicole to school that day. All this shit is his fault! HIS FAULT!”

That was when I pretty much lost it.

“If he hadn't threatened her, I never would have broke up with her!” I cried out, and the hot tears that had been threatening to come out trickled down my face. “If he hadn't been shoving me around all that time…if he hadn't done all that shit…if he…if he…”

I took a deep breath again.

“It's all that bastard's fault! All of it! He wasn't even my father, dammit! Everything is his fault! HIS FAULT!”

My stomach lurched, and I had to swallow to keep myself from puking as bile rose into my throat. My nose was already all stuffed up, and I couldn't breathe properly at all and started hyperventilating. Nicole was suddenly there, kneeling in front of my chair and wrapping her arms around me as I bawled like a fucking baby.