"You're right. That is very sensible of you," Nate said, moving his hand from Abel's shirt and putting it by his side.
"Just call me Captain Sensible," Abel replied, giving a salute.
"I prefer Captain Slower-Than-a-Toddler," Nate offered.
"Is that the best I am going to get?"
"Yup. I think I'm being generous." Nate laughed.
"Okay. I'll take it. Captain Slower-Than-a-Toddler it is." Abel bowed dramatically.
"Goodnight, Cap," Nate said.
"Goodnight."
Nate knew that it was stupid, but he felt a small ember of disappointment as he watched Abel walk away. He didn't want to run into something new just because he was afraid of standing still and processing his feelings—but it felt like the easiest option. He didn't even know if Abel
was
an option; but he desperately wanted something to come along that would give him some kind of cowardly way out. Nate wanted to be able to do the cowardly thing and still somehow emerge as a courageous figure. He wanted to feel like he had when he was running; like nothing mattered but the march forward. He looked up at the stars one more time, imagining their shimmer caressing his skin, before walking through the garden gate and into his parents' house.
Me and You and Everything That We Don't Know
"Good Morning, Dad," Nate said tiredly as he stretched.
"Yep," Bernard replied coldly, his eyes not budging from the newspaper in his hands.
Nate resisted the urge to scream. He hadn't spoken to his dad since he had arrived back and the silence had permeated everything. Even after all the years that had passed, Nate couldn't think of a way to engage his father in any kind of communication. Their whole relationship had been defined by the fact that they didn't really understand each other. Nate wanted to put his hand out and touch Bernard's shoulder, anything to form some kind of connection, but he moved away from him instead and to the coffee pot.
"Good morning, Nathaniel. Are you going to the gym this morning?" Ava asked brightly, walking into the kitchen from her bedroom.
Nate looked down at his loose-fitting workout clothes. "Oh. I just thought that I would go for a run. I feel like I need to get my heart racing a little bit and get my muscles working. I think I've got too much energy. That is, if you don't mind helping Bailey with breakfast and stuff?"
"Huh. He's been here one night and already he's running away," Bernard said gruffly and to nobody in particular, his eyes still fixed on a news article. Nate felt his father's words hit him like a wrecking ball.
"Dad's right. I should be here when Bailey wakes up," Nate said, leaning back on the kitchen worktop for support. He felt like his legs could give way at any moment; he needed something to help keep him upright. Nate couldn't believe how much his dad's commentary hurt and how quickly he felt like a teenager again in his presence.
"No, no. Don't be ridiculous. We would love to have breakfast with Bailey—just us and our grandson. That sounds great, doesn't it, Bernard?" Ava asked, her voice too jovial. The energy in the room felt awkward, and Nate felt like the walls were collapsing into themselves, making the space between him and his parents smaller and smaller.
"I don't know," Nate replied, his eyes focusing on Bernard. He was looking for any kind of sign that his dad was going to budge. Nate wanted to speak to his dad about all the things that were happening. He wanted advice and comfort or just to know that his father had ever felt scared before and could relate.
"Can I speak to you outside for a moment, Nathaniel? There's just something that I want to show you out front," Ava said, walking to the door before Nate had time to provide any reaction. Nate followed her and braced himself for the cold. The air was crisp and fresh and he allowed himself to close his eyes and appreciate it for a moment.
"What did you want to talk about, Mom? If it's about Dad, then I don't know what to say—I'm trying with him. I really am." Nate sighed, shrugging his shoulders in frustration and exhaustion.
"Oh, I know that your father is difficult. God knows I've spent a lifetime trying to understand why he is the way that he is. But he loves me and he loves you. He doesn't know how to express love, and the love that he feels makes him uncomfortable, but it's there—and that's enough for me." Ava smiled warmly and Nate smiled in return when he felt his mother's hand on his cheek.
"When did you become the geriatric guru of the log cabins?" Nate asked warmly.
"Less of the geriatric," Ava said, jabbing Nate in the side. "And maybe I've always been like this. You never really gave me an opportunity to help you, or even get to know you. You were always so mad and whenever I tried to help you, I just got silence. I know that I didn't react well to your… your r
elationship
with Joshua. I was mean and I didn't try to stand up for you when your father was saying those awful things that night. But you didn't give me a moment to think, or to ask you any questions, or to even work out what was happening. You barely even packed a bag."
Nate felt like he had been pushed against the wall by some invisible force. He looked at his mother and wanted to melt when he saw the hurt inside her large, pretty eyes. "I want you to know that I really, really thought I was doing the best thing by running away. It probably sounds stupid, but I thought that I was being kind, making things easier for everybody. I just kind of hoped that I would get away and disappear. I just wanted everybody to forget that I existed. I wanted a fresh start for myself—and for you." Nate inhaled and shifted his weight against the closed front door.
"It's fine. I wish that I had done things very differently. I wish that I had been more open-minded."
"I feel so foolish now. I feel so stupid for thinking that slipping away into the dead of night was the kindest thing. That's exactly what Joshua did and it just feels like the cruelest thing in the whole the world. Not getting to say goodbye feels like a tragedy." Nate felt his mom's hand guide him to the swing seat and he sat down next to her carefully.
"What happened?" Ava asked, her voice warm and supportive.
"I woke up and there was a note. My whole life fell apart in the time it took for me to read a couple of sentences." Nate sighed.
"Do you know where he is?"
"No. I've called everybody that I can think of, but nobody seems to know what is happening. Everything's just turning to shit," Nate replied, covering his face with his hands.
"Nathaniel, I know I didn't raise you to use that kind of language," Ava chided, only half-joking.
"God. You sound just like Bailey. It's scary."
"That's because he's a smart kid."
"He is. So smart. And I haven't been able to think of any way of explaining this whole mess to him. I don't even know where I am supposed to begin. He's going to start asking questions, and I just don't know how to give him any answers. I want to tell him that everything will be okay. I
want
to be able to tell him that everything will be
fantastic.
I don't want to tell him that his papa left and that his home isn't his home anymore. I just want everything to be like it was before." Nate curled his feet under his body and rested his head on Ava's lap, looking up at her face, so familiar to him and yet so different from the one he remembered.
"I don't really know what happened to the house, but are you sure that you've exhausted every legal option?" Ava asked as she brushed her fingers through Nate's hair.
"There aren't any options to explore. I was stupid enough to put all of my money in Joshua's hands and he mismanaged it. I didn't insist on having any legal rights to my own life, can you imagine that? Bailey's lost everything because I wasn't strong enough to show up for him. For either of us." Nate felt a tear roll down his cheek, but before he could wipe it off, he felt Ava fingers swipe at it.
"You know, you're right. You didn't do everything that you could have done to secure your and Bailey's future. But you didn't think that you had to. I don't think that you can blame yourself for trusting someone so much that you took your eye off the ball. Unfortunately, it's nearly impossible to modulate how much faith you place in another person. Even if that person doesn't always give you a lot reason to love them so much." Nate watched his mom's eyes dart to the front door. He knew that she was thinking about his dad and all the ways that he had let her down over the years.
"I know that you say that Dad loves you… but do you love him?" Nate asked cautiously.
"I do, Nathaniel. Sometimes I wonder why, but I really, really do," Ava replied, still staring at the door like she could somehow see through it and into Bernard's brain.
"If Dad did to you what Joshua did to me, would you take him back?" Nate inquired, sitting up.
"I would. Probably straight away," she said solemnly.
Nate couldn't help but show his shock. He had expected his mother to dismiss his suggestion, to tell him that she was too strong to forgive his dad so easily, to embolden him to muster all of his courage and stay angry at Joshua forever. Nate wanted to hear that his yearning for Joshua was ridiculous and self-defeating and that he needed to start getting mad. "Would that be the right decision?"
"No, not at all. It would make me weak and stupid. But you are neither of those things. At least, you never were—I know that a decade changes a person, but not that much. I think that sticking with what's comfortable is fine as long as the thing you are comfortable with isn't hurting you. Accepting something bad just because you don't know any better is a sad way to live your life." Nate clutched Ava's hand as she spoke. They swung gently together, the squeak of the chain matching the rhythm of Ava's words.
"I just can't help but think Bailey got stuck with the wrong parent. He didn't end up with the hero. Admittedly, the financially irresponsible and cowardly hero. But the hero nonetheless." Nate sighed sadly.
"Then you'll just have to become the hero. You can do it, I know it." Ava stood up from the swing. Nate still held onto her hand.
"I hope that you're right."
"I am," Ava said confidently. "And when you go running, don't run from anything and don't run to anyone other than yourself. Run towards you, not towards him and not away from him. And we'll talk to Bailey later. Take all the time you need."
"I was thinking of putting a notebook in my backpack and finding a place to write for a bit." Nate followed Ava back into the house. The temperature was warm, a stark contrast from the brisk chill of the outside air.
"That sounds great. There's a notebook on the table and you know where your backpack is," Ava answered.
"Dad, could you pass me that notebook, please? And one of those pens?" Nate hated the way that he sounded when he spoke to his dad, the way that his voice became thin and how everything came out as a question. He felt like he hadn't grown at all since he was a six-year-old kid trying to please his dad, to make up for some sin that he didn't understand. He put his hand out and took the notebook and pen from his father's outstretched hand. Bernard looked into his coffee mug the whole time.
"Mom, tell Bailey that I love him and that I'll see him soon," Nate said, feeling his dad's rejection like pin pricks all over his skin as he put the pad and pen in his bag.
*~*~*
Some of the tension poured from his body as he began to pick up his pace. He let his limbs move however they wanted, allowing the boundaries of his body to grow fuzzy as he propelled himself forward through the crisp, clean air. He moved with the rhythm of his quickening heartbeat and ran straight forward, pushing past areas of overgrowth and listening to the comforting patter of his feet on the forest floor. The trees surrounding him were overwhelmingly huge, standing tall and straight into the blue sky, and the air smelled new, like it was the first morning in history and everything had only just began to burst into life. Nate reminded himself to inhale deeply, resisting the urge to pant, so that he could truly feel the air in his lungs. He imagined the air purifying his cells, roaming around inside his body and sweeping away all of the painful cracks in his heart and his soul.
Turning to the left Nate saw the small stream that he had spent hours messing around in as a child. He thought about the first time he had helped his sister cross the makeshift stepping-stones that offered safe passage from one side of the forest to the other. He could see her little face in his mind, the way that she had looked so scared at first and then so proud as she hopped across them for the hundredth time. The desire to hold his little sister's hand again was so painful and aching that it almost stopped him cold, but he knew that he had to keep moving—his body needed the momentum, and he needed to sweat out some of his feelings.
Nate remembered the chill of the water as he had read books and dipped his feet on endless summer holidays and the excitement he had felt when the flow had frozen in winter. He smiled as he thought about all the dreams and ambitions that he had had as a kid, wanting to give his past self a hug and a high five. Nate ran along the river until he got to the stepping-stones, which marked the boundary point where the stream grew wider and more dangerous. He skipped across the stones easily and jumped from the last one onto the dirt on the other side, refusing to break his stride for even a second. He looked back, half expecting to see his sister straggling behind him wearing the bright yellow raincoat that she had always worn, even when it was the hottest day of the year.
As Nate jogged further away from the river he remembered what his mother had said.
And when you go running, don't run from anything and don't run to anyone other than yourself. Run towards you.
He could see the words like they were written on a sign up ahead and hear them like he was listening to an audio book.
Run towards you. Don't run from anything and don't run to anyone other than yourself.
He gazed far into the distance and imagined himself looking strong and confident. Bailey was standing beside him, smiling. The imaginary Nate and Bailey looked content and at ease and Nate ran towards them, his legs powering under him as he pushed himself further and further towards the image of himself in a better place.