He finally looked up, his eyes on Natalie. “He’s the only one who was man enough to do the right thing. His girlfriend had walked out and all the parents in his life turned their backs on him… and the one man he looked up to wasn’t man enough to deal with it. So we abandoned him. All of us. I lost my son, and for what? So that I can lie in a bed wanting to die because it’s easier than living with my regrets?”

I reached out and without a moment’s hesitation, I took his hand.

My grandmother gasped and I knew she wouldn’t understand; me touching a stranger. But he wasn’t. Not to me, and not in that moment. Right then, he was just like Josh. A man with regrets living in a world full of unforgiving circumstances.

Henry added, “Do the same thing that Josh did three years ago. Do the right thing, Natalie. Please.”

We drove Josh’s parents home in silence. It wasn’t until we pulled into their house that any of us even moved.

“Josh can’t know about any of this,” Cordy relayed for me.

“It stays between us,” Josh’s mom agreed.

I looked at his dad but his gaze was on his lap again.

I tapped his hand and when he looked up, I pointed to the box of pictures I’d taken with me. I lifted it between us and offered it to him.

Then he did something that seemed so out of place on him; he smiled, a smile just like his son’s.

He took the box from my hands.

Followed by my phone.

He tapped it a few times and then handed it back. “Thank you,” he said.

And that was it.

Two days later I got a message.

Unknown: Don’t give up on him yet. But don’t wait three years like I did.

37

-Joshua-

“So how’s things with Natalie?” Dad asks, sitting up in his bed sniffing whatever the hell Mom had just brought in for him. I chuckle as he places it on his nightstand next to my SK8F8 trophy.

“Things are good. She Skyped with Tommy last night—says she misses the crap out of him. She’s only been gone a month.”

He shrugs. “Tommy’s an easy kid to miss. I missed him yesterday.”

“Well, I get to share him around now. I’ve got Chazarae and Rob and Kim—who’s not too happy about the new Tommy schedule, by the way—and now you and mom, plus I still want him to go to daycare so he’s around other kids, you know?”

“Makes sense.”

“Besides, he told me you gave him a chocolate bar before lunch.”

Dad averts his gaze. “That little… I told him it was our secret.”

“Yeah? I guess he’s only good at keeping the secrets he wants to keep,” I tell him, thinking about him and Becca’s secret language. He still won’t tell me what holding up one, two or three fingers means. I’ve asked, numerous times, and every time I do he asks about her. Where Becs? What Becs doing? I wish I could tell him, but I have no idea. So I tell him she’s out on adventures with her camera—because that’s what I hope she’s doing. Out there somewhere in the world, making adventures, living dreams, capturing moments that make her question life.

“He’s not the only one good at keeping secrets,” Dad murmurs, and I wonder for a moment if he’s thinking about Becca, too—about their little secret. A secret I’ll take to the grave.

I shrug, not knowing how else to respond.

“And therapy?” he asks.

“Same old. There’s really not a lot we discuss. I asked Natalie to think about dropping the clause. It’s just a waste of my time and money.”

He sighs but he doesn’t press on. Instead, he asks, “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Tommy and I were going to skate for a bit… thought I’d drop by to see if you were up to coming with but looks like you’re not doing too well.”

He throws the sheets off of him and sits on the edge of the bed. “Let’s go.”

“Mom said—”

“Son, I love your mother. For many reasons. Giving me you is the main one. But Jesus Christ, that woman doesn’t quit nagging. I go downstairs and it’s twenty questions about everything. The other day she tried to sneak in getting my temperature while I was sleeping on the couch.”

He waits for me to stop laughing before adding, “Sometimes I’m just happier in here staring at the wall and sitting in silence.”

“So what? We have to sneak you out of here now?”

“Leave it to me.”

I wait for him downstairs while he gets changed and when he comes down the first thing he says is, “I’m going out, Ella, and I don’t want to hear it.”

She pauses half way through pulling a Lego out of Tommy’s pants. “What do you mean you’re going out? What’s the weather like? Did you eat? Have you gone to the bathroom? What are you wearing? Who are you going with? What are you doing?”

My dad looks at me, his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised. “Told you,” he mouths.

I stand up, laughing under my breath. “Ma, we’re just going to skate. I’ll take care of him. Promise.”

She walks to the entryway and opens the closet, then pulls out his wheelchair and coat. “He has to be in the chair,” she says. “He gets too tired too quickly and it’s not good for his immune system if he catches a cold and—”

“I’ll sit in the damn chair,” Dad shouts, sitting in the damn chair.