“Yeah. I am.”
“I was getting scared.”
“You? Scared? I didn’t think you were scared of anything.”
He laughs. “There are a lot of things I’m scared of, Benji.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Why were you scared this time?”
There’s a pause, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. I chide myself again for pushing, but then he speaks. “I was scared… I was scared because I could feel your anger. You were mad at me, and it scared me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such anger before. Not since I’ve known you.”
He means longer than two weeks, and we both know it. “Cal—”
“Hush, Benji. Please let me speak.” The recrimination in his voice is soft. I wait.
“I was scared, and that in turn made me angry. I told myself that you were being a child, that you didn’t understand at all what it meant to be lost. I hated myself for thinking it. It was petty. I didn’t think I would ever know what pettiness felt like, and jealousy. I shouldn’t have felt that way.”
“Why did you?”
“Because of your father.”
“Big Eddie? I don’t understand.”
“Benji, do you know who my father is?”
“God?”
“For lack of a better word, yes. The one you know as God is my Father. Do you know the last time I got to see my Father?”
Never met him. I’m pretty far down on the totem pole.
“You haven’t,” I say, feeling like my chest’s being crushed. “You never met him.”
“Right. I’ve never met the one who created me. I just know he did because that is what I am supposed to know. I was created and I do what I’m told. Or at least I did.”
“So you were jealous?”
“Yes. As much I hate to say it, as much as it tears me apart, yes. I was jealous of you because you had what I never could. I was jealous of him because he had you. I’ve seen many people in my lifetime, Benji. So many people, even in a little place such as this. But I can tell you that there has never been such a man as your father.”
“I know,” I say, because I can’t say anything else lest my voice would break.
“You do, don’t you?” he says, sounding surprised. “You do know. You know what you had; you know what he was.”
“The greatest man in the world,” I say.
He laughs. “In the eyes of many, you speak truth.”
“I miss him.”
“And you will. Every day for the rest of your life, you will miss him.”
“Like you do? With your dad? Your Father?”
“Yes. But please don’t think I’m blaming you or Big Eddie. For anything. That is not my intent.”
“Don’t you get to talk to him, though? Your dad.” I swallow. “God? Or whatever?”
“I thought so. I guess. I don’t know. There are times I don’t know if I ever did. If I’ve ever really known him. Not like I thought I did.”