"Nathaniel! Nathaniel! You have to come, even for a day. You always were so dramatic. You have to come. But you have to accept that I will mention my husband." Ava sounded a little desperate and a little defensive.
"Your husband? So not my dad?" Nate asked, crushed.
"Of course your father, but it's complicated. And you can't call me out of the blue and then run away again. So, where are you? How long will you be? What does Bailey like to eat?" Ava had adopted her mom voice, decisive and strong. Something about the way that she was able to put an end to the conversation touched something deep inside Nate, something that longed to be at home, or at least the vague idea of what a home should be. The way that she was able to make life so straightforward, how she could storm ahead without any consideration for the circumstances, seemed to call to him. He needed some direction, and if not a moral compass than at least a physical one.
"We're at the gas station in Pineways, so maybe an hour and a half. Bailey eats anything and everything." Nate let himself give into the side of himself that wanted comfort. The part of him that wanted someone else to tell him where to go and what to do was battling with the jagged part of himself that still clung to the past, was still hurt and lost. "Mom. I just need to say this before I get home. Well, to your home."
"Oh. Is Joshua coming? Because of course that would be different. That would be a problem," Ava said.
"No. No, he's not, and that wasn't what I was going to say anyway. I just have to say this, because I have learned recently that you have to lay your expectations down. So, here it goes. I'm coming back for the first time in ten years and I'm doing it because I think it's what I have to do. I am fully aware that I could get really hurt by doing this. I understand that. But I have to think of Bailey and he's got a long, sad couple of months ahead of him, and I won't let you or Dad hurt him. Okay?" Nate felt pride radiate throughout his body, like he was getting strength from his love for Bailey. He imagined himself growing taller and more statuesque, like a metal rod ran along his spine.
"Nate, listen," Nate's mom began.
"No, Mom. Not 'Nate, listen'. Did you hear what I said?" Nate pushed, demanding confirmation that he had been heard. He wanted his mother to know that he was an adult now, that he was in control of his life, that he had a voice that needed to be heard.
"Okay, okay. We can talk about all that when you're safe here and have had something to eat. We'll be expecting you in about an hour." Ava's voice sounded a little shaky, like she wasn't quite sure of what she was saying, like the shock of hearing from Nate had finally sunk in.
"Good. I'll see you then." Nate ended the call and realized, for the first time, that he had been tensing his hand around his phone. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting the butterflies in his stomach die down as his chest loosened, the knots around his heart falling away a little bit. He stretched his fingers apart, getting rid of some of the cramp in his palm. Nate let the car take some of his weight as he leaned against it, happy to be against something solid and real. He closed his eyes for a second and put his face up towards the weak sun. Nate jumped as Bailey slapped the car window behind him and pointed at an invisible watch on his wrist.
Nate got into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition, then pulled away from the gas station. Bailey's voice rose over the low rumble of the car. "Daddy, where are we going?"
"We're going to see your nana and granddad," Nate said as nonchalantly as possible, hoping to not have to answer too many questions, that Bailey would take the information at face value and not probe any deeper.
"They don't live in this place with lots of trees. They live by my school in the city," Bailey said, amused, a little laugh bouncing from his throat and around the car. "You are so silly. Where are we really going?" Bailey asked.
"Well, you have two nanas and two granddads. We're going to see your other ones. We're going to see my mom and dad."
"I thought your mom and dad were dead!" Bailey said, slapping his hand to his mouth and bugging his eyes out. Nate kept careful, intermittent watch on him in the rearview mirror.
"Nope, they're alive; we're going to stay with them."
"Is Papa going to meet us there?" Bailey was visibly shaking with excitement.
"Maybe," Nate said, his tone unconvincing and flat. He cringed, knowing that he was doing the cowardly thing and understanding that he should be honest and face his worst fear. He wished that he could approach the devastating conversation about Joshua with bravery and wisdom, but he just wasn't able to summon the courage.
"Has Papa met your mom and dad?" Bailey asked.
"Yep, twice," Nate answered.
"You don't want to tell me anything. You have a secret," Bailey said, voice full of wisdom and suspicion. Nate was amazed that someone so young could be such a good detector of the truth—that he could sort through all of the things that were said and left unsaid and discover what was real, and really important.
"I don't, Bailey. It's just that I don't know them all that well. It's different to you and me. We'll always be in each other's lives; I will always be there to help you. But I moved away from my parents a long time ago and I don't have that much to say about them." Nate tried to make his voice sound warm and strong, to smother the more jagged feelings of the past and paint it afresh so that his son could continue to look forward to the next few days.
"There is something else. But you don't have to tell me… I am just happy to meet new family."
"That's right, Bay. That's the important thing," Nate said, and let the car settle back into drive.
The car drove past hundreds of tall trees, rising proudly from the earth and piercing the blue sky, their tops almost covered by the wispy clouds. They looked regal and strong, their roots deep and low, burying themselves down into history. Their leaves were deep, dark green, glistening in the sunlight. The air was clear and crisp, miles away from the smog of the city. It struck Nate that he had never driven this road before; it led directly to the place that he had spent endless teenage nights, well before he had a license.
Everything was familiar to him. He could see his younger self almost everywhere; it was like the place was haunted by the person that he used to be and perhaps the person that he still was. Nate made a smooth left turn into the main town of Grandview, passing the bank and the two convenience stores. The whole town looked just like it was the set of a movie, all solid wood and family businesses, like one of those imaginary places in Christmas movies—the places where neighbors clubbed together to decorate Main Street.
Memories washed over Nate, snapshots of a life that he had begun to forget, little recollections of things he had done and people he had seen, of parades he had attended and heartaches he had suffered. His heart stopped for a second as he drove past O'Hannigans, the faux-Irish pub where he had worked and first met Joshua. The first place that he had ever been drunk and the first place he had ever truly fallen in love. Nate brought the car to a steady stop.
"Bay... undo your seatbelt and climb to the front. I'm going to tell you a story."
Bailey looked excited. Nate watched as Bailey unbuckled his seatbelt and shuffled out of his car seat. He helped Bailey push his weight through the gap in the front seats and waited as he nestled into the passenger side.
"You see that place over there?" Nate pointed towards O'Hannigans and Bailey's eyes followed. "I used to work there when I was a teenager. And one night this tall man ordered a drink from the bar and started to talk to me. He was very funny and very smart and very well dressed. And I stayed up all night talking to him. Do you know who that was?" Nate asked, smiling at the memory and letting it seep into his cells, letting the feeling take up space inside of him and displace some of the heartache of the present.
"I think I do," Bailey said.
"Who do you think it was, then?" Nate asked.
"I think it was Papa." Bailey's eyes were all sparkle and shine, clearly excited to get a sneak-peek into his parents' relationship, to be allowed access to a world that existed before he had come along. Nate remembered that feeling from when he was a child, of wanting to feel connected to the life that his family had lived before he was born. Bailey snuggled his face into Nate's shoulder and settled down. "Tell me more, Daddy," he demanded.
"There isn't much more to tell. We talked for a really long time and he made me laugh a lot because he was very smart. I wasn't really used to people who were as smart as him, so it took me kind of by surprise. He told me he liked my eyes, which shocked me a lot because nobody had ever said anything like that to me before. And then we got a house, and a while later we got you." Nate tried to sound as easy and breezy as possible.
"I can't wait to meet my new grandma and granddad! And I can't wait for Papa to come and see them too! It is all going to be so much fun," Bailey exclaimed, a ball of enthusiasm and energy.
Nate placed Bailey on the seat next to him, buckled him in tightly, and started the car again. Bailey's eyes widened with surprise; he had never been allowed to sit in the front before. He stayed quiet, not wanting to prompt his dad to change his mind about the new seating arrangement.
Nate pulled away from the bar and drove all the way through Main Street, following his internal map, the part of his brain that had the roads of his childhood seared into it. He rolled down the window slightly, inhaling the woody air—the freshness and the life of a town surrounded by forestation. Nate's stomach tightened as he drove into the driveway of his old home, a pretty but modest wooden four-bedroom next to a huge lake and forestry. Everything was the same as he remembered; nothing had changed in the ten years that he had been gone. It was like a museum piece, a testament to routine and rigidity. Nate swallowed hard, trying to calm his nerves.
"Dad, is this where they live?" Bailey asked.
"Yep."
"Then let's go in, dummy! It's cold in here!" Bailey said, slightly annoyed.
"Okay," Nate said, but stayed still, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
"Okay?"
"Okay," Nate repeated, inhaling and exhaling like he had just nearly drowned.
"
Dad
!" Bailey yelled.
Nate shook himself and opened his door, then grabbed Bailey from his seat and bundled him close before climbing the stairs that he had climbed so many times in his childhood. He hadn't climbed the stairs in over a decade, but when he heard the familiar creak of the middle step, he felt like no time had passed at all. The way that the wood warped and groaned under his weight was unsettlingly familiar. As a child, Nate had always associated the mundane sound with the arrival of his father and the cold, uncomfortable atmosphere that he brought with him. The last time he had been on the stairs, he was a child fleeing from his home, and now he had his own child. For a moment, it made him feel connected to his father, to the men of the Grace family that had come before him.
Bailey rapped his little knuckles on the front door excitedly. They waited in silence for a second before Ava came to the door and threw it open in time to catch Bailey, who jumped into her embrace.
"Hey, Bailey, be careful, give Mom a second," Nate said, trying to calm Bailey down.
"Be quiet, Nathaniel, he's excited to see his grandma!" Ava said, swatting Nate away like a bug.
"Yeah, Dad, be quiet! I'm excited to see my grandma," Bailey repeated, clearly testing his boundaries.
"Grandpa's in his chair in the next room. Go and see him, he's excited to see you." Ava put Bailey back on the floor and she and Nate watched him as he ran to the next room.
"Dad's excited… There really is a first time for everything," Nate said, rolling his eyes.
"Why do you do that? I haven't seen you in so long, and you have to say something stupid… Just come here and give me a hug," Ava said, stepping forward so that the space between them was bridged a little. She opened her arms and Nate moved into them, hugging her more tightly than he had expected to. She responded in kind, holding him close against her, so close that they could feel each other's heartbeats. He was taken aback by how familiar it felt and how quickly he felt like a kid again—something inside of him recognized this feeling and had retained it through all of the years.
"You smell the same," Nate said, pulling himself back from the embrace.
"You don't. Everything about you has changed. You're so tall. So adult. You look like a handsome person in a film—a handsome dad. How can you be a dad? It's crazy." Ava took a step back so she could look at him properly. She scanned him from the top of his head to his toes, making Nate feel a little uncomfortable.
"Uhhh… Mom, can I come in? It's pretty cold out here, I can see my breath..." Nate smiled sheepishly and rubbed his hands together.
"Of course! I still can't believe that it's you, that you're here." Ava moved to the side so that Nate could step in. He was hit by the smell of the house, how it had retained the scent of his childhood, how everything in the place was the same as when he left it. He was struck by the idea that the house was still a part of him, that in the deepest part of his brain he understood these surroundings. Ava grabbed Nate again—more leisurely this time, less desperate to form and galvanize an instant connection. Nate stiffened as he saw his dad emerge from the back room, and he shrugged his way out of his mother's clinch.
Nate felt his chest tighten. His dad was as tall as Nate remembered, a little more weathered, a little grayer than before, but still the imposing giant that Nate had spent his whole childhood worshipping and fearing in equal measure. He couldn't help but smile at the vision in front of him; Bailey was clutching his granddad Bernard's hand and resting his side against his long leg. They looked so strange together and yet so right. Nate tried to think of a time when he had held his dad's hand, but he couldn't dredge up any memories—not even from his earliest childhood.