glad to be out of that horrendous situation and living in a wonderful place with people who cared about me. But as an adult…”
“As an adult, you question my motives.”
“Not so much your motives. I mean, what you did was amazing, and Donny and I can never hope to repay you.”
“Children don’t have to repay their parents.”
“But we weren’t your children, Dad. You made us your children, and while I’m ecstatic that you did, I never quite understood why.”
“I cared about you. Grew to love you.”
“Of course you did. I’m not questioning that. But you were newly married with a baby on the way, and you took in two troubled boys. Not the easiest thing to cope with. You didn’t have to do it.”
“What might have happened to you if I hadn’t? Your mother was gone, and we couldn’t find your father.”
I sigh. “You had resources most don’t. You could have found Floyd Jolly.”
“We tried, son.”
“Did you?”
He smiles weakly. “Maybe not very hard. Since his name didn’t appear on your birth certificate, we didn’t need his permission for the adoption.”
“And it would have made the adoption process more difficult if he showed up.”
Dad nods. “I doubt he’d have resisted, since he abandoned you years before, but it was one less thing we had to deal with to finalize the adoption.”
“He might have asked for money,” I say.
Dad wrinkles his forehead. “He might have, but has it occurred to you that he hasn’t asked us for anything since he found us?”
I part my lips but then realize I can’t refute his claim. He didn’t ask us for anything when we showed up at his home. He didn’t ask us for anything when we dragged him to a lab the next day for the DNA test. And he didn’t ask for rehab. Dad offered it.
“Doesn’t change what he did in the past,” I finally say.
“You’re right. It absolutely doesn’t.”
“I can’t forgive the abandonment.”
“I understand.”
“I mean, do you forgive your father for everything?”
Dad’s lips form a flat line. He shakes his head. “No, I can’t. I never did.”
“Then why—”
He gestures me to stop talking. “I’m not forgiving your father—sorry, Floyd—for anything, but he needs help. He didn’t ask us for it. He hasn’t asked us for anything. All he’s done is try to find his biological sons.”
“Why now?” I ask. “The whole thing perplexes me to no end.”
“It does me as well,” he agrees. “Maybe, once he’s sober, we can find out.”
“Maybe. Honestly, I don’t care one way or the other. I’m more interested in the motives of my real father. You. You said you’ve kept things from Donny and me. Maybe it’s time I know the whole story.”
He sighs. “Haven’t you guessed by now?”
“No.”
But it’s a lie. Things occur to me from time to time—things I can’t bear to bring to the forefront of my consciousness.
Things I’ve gone through. Things my brother has gone through. Things countless others have gone through.
Things that maybe…
Possibly…
God, I don’t want to go there.
But I must. Maybe the truth will help set me free.
“I haven’t allowed myself to think of reasons that might make sense,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t want to acknowledge them.”
“Then you already know.”
“How? How is it even possible?”
“It’s a long story,” he says. “Long and complicated. My brothers and I have covered things up as best we can. It took a lot of money and connections, but we buried that part of our past for our children’s sake.”
“Part of me doesn’t want to know. Never wants to know. I can’t bear the thought of something so heinous happening to you or anyone else.”
“You wonder why I couldn’t forgive my father,” he says. “My father played a significant role in what happened to me, and when it was over, he covered it up as I did, but with one difference. He didn’t get me the help I needed when I was young. I was determined not to make that same error in judgment.”
Briny bile crawls up my throat. I swallow down a dry heave.
It’s true, then. Everything I could never allow myself to face.
Because I could give you what you needed.
Those words Dad uttered meant more than just the best therapy money could buy.
He could also give Donny and me his understanding. Practical understanding.
“How?” I ask again. Then, “I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so fucking sorry.” I bury my head in my hands.
Tears don’t come. I’m dry. My throat is like a hot desert.
“I’ll tell you. You and Donny both.”
“No.” I shake