Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,189
going to get shit all his life.
This boy said, “What’s that for?”
A man appeared. He looked like Ox. He said, “When did you get home?”
“A while ago.”
“Later than I thought. Look, Ox….” He shook his head. “I know you’re not the smartest boy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dumb as an Ox,” and I hated him, hated this man I’d never met, hated him for all that he was, but I loved him too, a little bit. Because he’d played a part in giving us the man who sat before the door. Without him, there’d be no Ox.
He said, “You’re gonna get shit. For most of your life.”
“I’m bigger than most,” the boy said, and the wolves in the trees sang louder.
“Moments,” our Ox said. “These little things that shaped us. Watch.”
“People won’t understand you,” the man said.
“Oh.”
“They won’t get you.”
“I don’t need them to,” but ah, god, how he lied. He wanted it more than anything.
“I have to go.”
“Where?” the boy asked.
“Away. Look—”
“Does Mom know?”
The man laughed, and it was such a terrible sound. “Sure. Maybe. She knew what was going to happen. Probably has for a while.”
“When are you coming back?”
The man balked, and it looked as if he were breaking down. “Ox. People are going to be mean. You just ignore them. Keep your head down.”
“People aren’t mean. Not always.”
“You’re not going to see me for a while. Maybe a long while.”
“What about the shop?” the boy asked as Gordo made a wounded noise. Ox hushed him gently.
“Gordo doesn’t care.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t regret you. But I regret everything else.”
The boy looked unsure. Scared. “Is this about…?”
“I regret being here,” Ox’s father said. “I can’t take it.”
“Well, that’s okay,” the boy said. “We can fix that.”
“There’s no fixing, Ox.”
But the boy didn’t listen because he was just that: a boy. He said, “Did you charge your phone? Don’t forget to charge your phone so I can call you. I got new math that I don’t understand. Mr. Howse said I could ask you for help.”
The man’s face twisted. “Don’t you fucking get it?”
The boy in the door flinched. “No.”
“Ox. There’s going to be no math. No phone calls. Don’t make me regret you too.”
“Oh.”
“You have to be a man now. That’s why I’m trying to teach you this stuff. Shit’s gonna get slung on you. You brush it off and keep going.”
“I can be a man,” the boy said.
“I know.”
The boy smiled.
“I have to go.”
“When are you coming back?”
But he was never coming back.
He picked up his suitcase and was gone.
The boy watched the door for a long time.
Ox said, “He was my father. But he didn’t know me. He didn’t know who I was. What I was. And I don’t blame him for that. He wasn’t like me. He wasn’t like my mother. We were stronger than he was. We never ran because we knew if we did, we’d always be looking over our shoulders and wondering what if?” Ox stood slowly. He brushed us off as we tried to pull him back. He went toward the door, watching the boy inside.
Joe pleaded with him to stop, but Ox reached up and touched the empty doorway.
It rippled as if it was the surface of a lake.
And then he stepped back.
The doorway filled with light, warm and sweet.
She was there, standing just on the other side.
Ox smiled at her, a tear trailing down his cheek.
“Maggie?” Mom whispered.
Ox said, “Before you, before all of you, I only had her. I was very lucky, don’t you think?” He never looked away from the woman in front of him. “She believed in me. She told me I was special. That one day people would see just how much. I didn’t know what that meant. Not then. I do now. And it’s because of her. She was my beginning.” He looked back at us over his shoulder. “And you’re my ending.”
From the doorway, Maggie Calloway said, “One you deserve.”
Ox turned back toward her.
She said, “My son. I’m so proud of you. Look at all you’ve become.”
Ox said, “I tried so hard to save you.”
“I know,” Maggie said. “But it was a circle. Ouroboros. It was always going to happen. Nothing you could have done would have changed that.”
“And now?” Ox asked.
“And now the circle is broken. Not yet, Ox. It’s not time yet. One day I will see you again. One day we’ll be together. But not today. And not for a long, long time to come. There is still much for you to see, much for you