“I don’t care!” she yells. “Just like you didn’t care five years ago.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t know what it’s like to have a piece of my mother gone. I don’t know what it’s like to have to tiptoe around her on your birthday. I don’t know what it’s like to listen to her cry when she pretends she’s okay. I don’t understand any of that.” She doesn’t even give me a chance to say anything before she continues. “I’ll never understand how you could just turn your back on your family.” She wipes away her tears. “This time, maybe you can say goodbye before you leave us behind again.” She turns and runs toward the barn, leaving me to watch as I try to catch my breath.
I watch until she enters the barn, and I know that other people can watch her as I turn back and walk to my grandparents’ house. During the whole meal, they tiptoe around asking me any questions. It’s almost as though they are afraid to say anything to upset me. My grandmother busies herself in the kitchen, and the whole time, I see her looking over and smiling as she wrings her hands, and when I kiss her goodbye, she has tears in her eyes. “Are you leaving town?” she whispers, and I shake my head.
“Not yet,” I say, and she nods.
“Okay, come back and visit.” She puts her hand on my cheek.
“He’ll be here tomorrow,” my grandfather says for me, and I look over at him. “Family barbecue, it’ll be a good time for you to catch up and see everyone. Five years is a long time.” I just turn and walk out without confirming anything.
I’m walking into the house when I get this feeling that I’m not alone. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I cautiously make my way into the house. After going room to room to check, I find it empty. I run my hands through my hair and hold my head as my heart rate goes back to normal. Grabbing my workout gear, I head down to the barn across the yard. I open the doors and shake my head at the state-of-the-art training facility. The walls are covered in mirrors so you can see what you’re doing. The middle of the barn has ten weight machines in the shape of a square that works your core. Five bikes on one side of the wall sit right next to five Stairmasters. There are two leg press machines against the other wall with three punching bags and five treadmills. There is an empty space all the way at the end where two ropes lay. If I know my uncle, he had all of this here the minute he gave me the key to the house.
I get on the treadmill first and run until my legs burn. Faster and faster as if I’m running away from the enemy. I work out until my body is about to give up on me and my arms shake when I pick up a weight. The sweat just pours off me, and the muscles in my body fill with blood. I’m sitting on the bench drinking water when I see a shadow enter the barn.
I knew this moment would come. I knew it had to be done. He walks in, his shoulders square, and just looks at me. “You were in the house before?” I ask, and he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there in front of me.
“Figured we had a couple of things to talk about,” he says. Folding his arms over his chest, he shows me he’s ready for whatever I throw at him. For my whole life, I looked up to him, and I wanted to be him. I wanted to be the one who kept people safe. I wanted to be the one people went to when they had a problem, and I would solve it. To me, he was a hero, but he was also the one who lied to me. “That is if you’re man enough to stay and actually talk it out and not run away with your tail between your legs.”
I laugh. “I didn’t run.”
“Oh, you didn’t?” His eyes glare at me. “What do you call someone who doesn’t even stay and find out the ‘truth’?” He uses his fingers to make air quotes.
“I call that person someone who needed to find out who he was,” I tell him, getting up.
It’s his turn to laugh. “Does DNA matter that much to you?” he asks, and I want to tell him it does. I want to tell him that it wasn’t his decision to make. “Are you ready?”