Whisper Down the Lane, Clay Chapman [best short books to read txt] 📗

“I never knew my father. My real father. He left when I was young. For the longest time, it was just my mother and me and we—well, we had a hard time making it on our own.”

Liar.

“My mother loved me, just like yours. But there came a point where she couldn’t—”

Stand you.

“—take care of me anymore. I had to move in with a new family, called a foster family, and they were—”

Afraid.

“—amazing. Like superheroes, really. They moved heaven and earth for me. They knew I was really sad, that I missed my mom, but they wanted me to feel loved. It was important to them for me to know that they would never replace my mother. Nobody ever would. Could.”

Elijah hasn’t run out of the room. Hasn’t brought his hands up to his ears and started humming some tune to drown the sound of my voice out. I call that progress.

“They knew a family can be made up of more than just your biological parents. A family can be made up of whoever you want it to be.” This is it, I think. This is the moment. Here it comes. “So they asked if I wanted them to be my family. To be my parents. And I…I said yes.”

Elijah keeps his chin dipped, but I can tell he’s listening. The words are sinking in.

“When your mom and I first started seeing each other, we talked a lot about you. When it might be the right time to tell you about me and what my childhood was like. I told her I wanted to wait a little while. Until it felt like the time was right. And I guess now is the time. To tell you. Because…Here’s the thing, Eli. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.”

Too late to turn back now.

To run.

“I know it’s been hard, adjusting to this new life with me and your mom. But I think we’re finally hitting our stride and I was wondering if…if you’d think about me adopting you.”

Elijah stiffens. Becomes a human fist.

“Now I want you to know nobody will ever replace—”

That asshole.

“—your father. That’s not what I want to do. That’s not my intention here at all.”

Isn’t it, though? Isn’t that my intention? Blow that fucking fucker out of the water so Elijah can finally have a fighting chance at a decent male role model in his life? Someone to look up to? Someone who won’t bail on him? Someone who won’t cheat on his mother? Who won’t stumble in drunk beyond belief after a night out with the boys? Who won’t forget which door leads to the bathroom and piss on his own kid’s bed?

Elijah squirms. The weight of all this, the pressure of it, pushes him down. Does he want to make a break for it?

He’s looking for his mother. Why was Tamara letting this happen? Where was she?

Where’s Mom?

“All I want, Eli, is to be someone who’s there for you. Whenever you need it. Your father will always be your father, and nobody’s ever going to replace him. I promise.”

Liar, liar.

“All I want is…Well. All I want is to be a family. Your family.” I can’t shut up. I can’t stop myself from filling in the silence, the suffocating sound of nothing. I’m just blathering on like some idiot because I’m afraid he’ll say no. “Only if it’s okay with you. I don’t want to do it unless you’re cool with it. If you think it might be a—”

“Okay.”

Elijah doesn’t look at me when he says it, but I’m pretty sure I hear him correctly. His eyes are still shrouded. I can’t be sure if his okay is an acknowledgement of what I’d said, proof of receipt, or if he’s giving me the thumbs-up. I am a grown-ass man struggling to parse out the possible interpretations of a five-year-old’s okay.

“Think it over. Totally take your time. If you wanna talk to your mom—”

“No. I want to.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to express this feeling. The downright relief of it all. That release of pressure, a dam cracking in my chest.

I promise to love my Cabbage Patch Kid with all my heart…

The subsequent flood of blood.

I promise to be a good and kind parent…

The absolute joy.

I will always remember how special my Cabbage Patch Kid is to me…

Tamara is going to absolutely lose her mind. I hope she’s been hiding in the hall, eavesdropping on us. “Okay,” I say, letting out all the pent-up air. “Let’s make it official.”

Make me a Dad.

Dad. Kinda has a ring to it, doesn’t it? I want to say it over and over again, to anyone willing to listen. Race through the streets and shout it to the heavens. I’m a dad! I’m a dad!

“It was Sandy,” Eli says.

I have no idea what he’s talking about, still running my mental victory lap. “Sorry?”

“Sandy,” he repeats. “From our class. She was the one getting picked on.”

—

This house isn’t mine. Not yet. The memories made within these walls are Tamara and Elijah’s. The divots are filled with their days, the dust of their skin. Their fingerprints cover the walls. It will take time for me to become one with their home.

I feel like an intruder most days. A houseguest who never left, free-loading off their life.

But Tamara invited me in, hadn’t she? Into her home? Their life?

When will I start feeling like I am a piece of it?

A part of them?

The dishes are hers. The glasses. The cutlery. The cookware. All hers, all acquired in the years prior to my arrival. Their kitchen was already stocked with all the necessities, so when it came time to move in, I didn’t have to bother bringing my sad bachelor set of forks and knives. My chipped plastic plates. My one good wineglass. Tamara and Elijah already had everything they needed, everything I needed, so I simply donated my kitchenware to Goodwill.

All I brought into this house, their home, was…

Me.

It’ll take time