Michael winced. “And your love life? Are you seeing anyone?” He skipped over my last statement. “You’re getting to that age. It’s time to settle down and start a family soon.”
“I’m not even thirty yet.” Honestly, I didn’t know if I wanted children. If I did, it wouldn’t be until way down the road. I needed to experience more of the world before I settled into the white picket fence and suburban house life.
“Yes, but you have to allot a few years to dating first,” Michael reasoned. “Unless you’re already dating someone.” His eyebrows rose when I remained silent. “Are you dating someone?”
“No,” I lied, partly to spite him, and partly because he didn’t deserve to know about Jules.
“Ah, well, a father can hope.”
We continued our small talk, using mundane topics such as the weather and upcoming football season to sidestep the elephant in the room. Other than punching him in the face, I’d never confronted him about what he did to Ava.
The knowledge sat in my stomach like a concrete block. Ignoring it felt wrong, but I also couldn’t bring myself to shatter the light, if somewhat forced, conversation between us.
I’m sorry, Ava.
After floating adrift for the past two years, I could pretend I had a father again. As fucked up and selfish as it was, I wanted to savor the feeling for a while longer.
“How’s prison?” I almost laughed at my inane question, but I was genuinely curious. Michael’s letters detailed the minutiae of his days, but they hadn’t revealed how he was dealing with his incarceration.
Was he sad? Ashamed? Angry? Did he get along with the other inmates, or did he keep to himself?”
“Prison is prison.” Michael sounded almost cheerful. “It’s boring, uncomfortable, and the food is terrible, but it could be worse. Luckily…” A dark gleam lit up his eyes. “I’ve made some friends who’ve been able to help me out.”
Of course he had. I didn’t know the ins and outs of inmate politics, but Michael had always been a survivor.
I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or pissed that he wasn’t suffering more.
“Speaking of which...” Michael lowered his voice further until it was nearly inaudible. “They’ve asked for a favor in exchange for their, ah, friendship.”
Icy suspicion welled in my chest. “What kind of favor?”
I assumed friendship was code for protection, but who knew? Crazy shit happened in the prison system.
“Prison politics is...complicated,” Michael said. “Lots of bartering, lots of invisible lines you don’t want to cross. But one thing everyone can agree on is how valuable certain items are. Cigarettes, chocolate, instant ramen.” A small pause. “Prescription pills.”
Prescription pills were valuable even in the real world; on the prison black market, they must be gold.
And who had easy access to pills? Doctors.
A fist grabbed hold of my guts and twisted.
Once upon a time, I would’ve given my father the benefit of the doubt, but I knew better now. Perhaps he did miss me and wanted to make amends. He had, after all, written to me for two years.
But at the end of the day, Michael Chen only looked out for himself.
“I see.” I forced my expression to remain neutral. “I’m not surprised.”
“You’ve always been smart.” Michael smiled. “Smart enough to be a doctor, obviously. I mentioned that to my friends, and they asked if you wouldn’t mind helping us out.”
He had some balls to ask me to smuggle him pills in the middle of the visitation room. His voice was too low for the guards to hear, but maybe the guards were in on it. In some prisons, the inmates ran the show, and the system as a whole was corrupt as fuck.
“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” I didn’t bother to pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“I have changed,” Michael said. “Like I said, what I did to Ava was wrong, but the only way I can make amends is if I stay alive. And the only way for me to stay alive is to play the game.” His jaw tensed. “You don’t know what it’s like in here. How hard it is to survive. I’m depending on you.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you tried to murder my sister.” My pent-up anger didn’t explode; it seeped out of me, slow and steady, like toxic fumes poisoning the air.
For the first time since he showed up, Michael’s “remorseful father” mask slipped. His eyes pierced me like twin daggers. “I raised you. I fed you. I paid for your schooling.” He bit out each word like a bullet. “No matter how wrong I was, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m your father.”
The principle of filial piety had been ingrained in me since I was a child. Perhaps it even played a part in why it was so hard for me to cut ties with Michael, because a part of me did feel like I owed him for everything he’d given me growing up. We had a nice house and went on fancy family vacations. He bought me the latest gadgets for Christmas every year and paid for Thayer, one of the most expensive schools in the country.
However, there was a line to the blind obedience, and he’d crossed it a thousand times over.
“I appreciate all you did for me as a kid.” My hands formed white-knuckled fists under the table. “But being a parent is about more than providing basic necessities. It’s about trust and love. I heard your confession to Ava, Dad. What I didn’t hear was a fucking apology—”
“Don’t curse. It’s unbecoming.”
“Or a good explanation for why you did what you did, and I will fucking curse if I fucking want to, because, again, you tried to murder my sister!”
My pulse crescendoed into a deafening roar while my heart battered against my ribs. There was the explosion I’d been waiting for. Two years of pent-up emotion gushed out at once, erasing our brief moment of bonding.
The other inmates fell silent. One of the guards moved toward me in warning but stopped short of interrupting us.
Michael’s eye twitched. “You’re my son. You can’t leave me here to rot.”
He sounded like a broken record.
Our shared genes were the only bargaining chip he had left, and we both knew it.
“You’ve survived two years. I’m sure you’ll survive another twenty more.” I stood, my chest hollow now that I’d expelled all my emotion. Numbness set in and turned my skin cold.
I’d hoped against all hopes that my father could somehow redeem the unredeemable. That he could give a good reason for why he did what he did, or at least show genuine remorse. But it was suddenly, blindingly clear that while he could mimic love, he couldn’t actually feel it.
Perhaps he loved me in his own way, but that didn’t stop him from using me. If I were of no use to him—if I didn’t have access to the pills he craved, and if I weren’t his one remaining tie to the outside world—he would cast me aside without a second thought.
“Josh.” Michael let out a forced laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“You’re my father by blood, but you’re not my family. You never will be. I’m sure your friends will understand.” I stood, a bitter taste coating my tongue. “I won’t be visiting again, but I wish you all the best.”
“Josh.” Panic crept into his eyes, followed by stunned hurt. It might be the first real emotion I’d seen from him in a long time, but it was too late.
At some point, we had to let go of who a person used to be or who they could be and see them for who they really were. And the person Michael Chen had become wasn’t someone I wanted to call my father.
“Sit down,” he said. “We don’t have to talk about the pills. Tell me about your travels. You always liked traveling. Where are you going next?”
My eyes burned as I walked away.