The Boy Who Has No Redemption Read online

  Derek Hamilton could go fuck himself.

  I stepped into the warehouse and closed the door behind me.

  The guys immediately looked up, like they hoped it was lunchtime, but it was too early for that. Jerome and Pierre both said hi to me then got back to work.

  I walked to where Derek stood at his workbench, but instead of looking down and being focused on his work, he just stared at me instead. Even when I was thirty feet across the room and nowhere near him, he stared.

  Lately, he could barely look at me when I was just a few inches away.

  My heels tapped against the floor as I came closer, waiting for him to look down, waiting for him to silently dismiss me.

  But he didn’t.

  He was rigid and still, staring at me with wide and unblinking eyes, an intense expression that was indecipherable.

  I stopped at the desk across from him and opened the folder. “We’ve gotten a lot of submissions for the internship program.” I picked up the papers, which were bundled together in different sections. “The ones on the top are the people I think are most qualified. The second are people who have great grades and a little bit of work experience. And the last pile is people who performed the worst academically, but they had very interesting letters. I wanted to leave them here if you’d like to give feedback. But if you just want me to handle it, that’s fine.” I had to interview these people and made sure they had the right personalities to work with the engineers here. Nothing would be worse than having an intern with a bad attitude who made the engineers irritated forty hours a week.

  Derek didn’t say a word. His hands rested on the surface of the desk, his device and drawings in front of him, but he ignored them and gave me all his attention. His brown eyes watched me carefully, like he was looking at a TV screen instead of my face. Still, quiet, rigid, he was like a statue.

  It was odd. Really odd. “Derek?”

  As if he didn’t hear his name, he continued to stare.

  Jerome and Pierre turned to look at us, probably expecting Derek to give another asshole outburst.

  But Derek didn’t speak. His gaze wasn’t hostile, but he didn’t respond to any attempt I made to speak to him.

  I didn’t know what else to do, so I just ignored it. “I’ll leave them here. Let me know.” I turned around and walked off, feeling his gaze drilling into my back, burning me from the rear, even when I was out of the warehouse and in the golf cart.

  I sat in the stands with my mom, watching Lizzie play on the field.

  Deacon had given her a black softball mitt—and she continued to use it. She was mature enough to still have affection for Derek’s parents even when Derek turned out to be a huge disappointment.

  I was proud of her for that.

  “What are we going to do about Lizzie’s grades?” Mom ate her popcorn from a cup, watching Lizzie at first base.

  “I don’t know.” I’d tried to set her up with different tutors, but she said it didn’t help at all.

  “She’s going to be in high school soon. Maybe you should hire someone from one of those private companies.”

  “I know, but it’s so expensive. They’re like a hundred dollars an hour.”

  “I can get a part-time job or something.”

  “Mom, it’s okay.” My parents had done enough for me, and Lizzie was my responsibility. I would figure it out.

  She continued to eat her popcorn for a while, cheering when Lizzie snatched the ball and got the hitter out in one swift movement. “You seem to be doing better.”

  I kept my eyes on the field. “Yeah…a bit.”

  She moved her hand to my arm and gave me a gentle rub. “Broken bones heal faster than a broken heart. You’ve just got to be patient.”

  I was grateful that my mom didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t make me feel bad for being wrong, so painfully wrong. “Thanks, Mom. I’m not sure if I really have a broken heart anymore. I don’t miss Derek. I just…kinda hate him at this point. It was a stupid mistake, and I wish I could take it all back.”

  She stopped eating her popcorn and stopped looking at Lizzie. “You really feel that way?”

  I nodded. “He really fucked me up, Mom.” I kept it inside most of the time, but my trust was gone. I couldn’t imagine trusting anyone ever again. I didn’t want to let anyone past my walls. I didn’t even have walls before, but now my walls were skyscrapers. “Lizzie’s father was a tool, and then the greatest man I’ve known ended up being a piece of shit. I’m just so over it. I’m over men. I was seeing that guy for a while, and he flipped out on me when he found out about Lizzie. I’d rather be alone. When Lizzie is out of the house, I might just travel the world by myself.”

  Her hand moved to my shoulder again, her eyes sad, like that really broke her heart. “I know it didn’t work out with Derek. I know that other guy was a total jerk. But love is out there. It exists, Emerson. I know that’s true, because I love your father so much. Don’t give up on that yet. You’re too young.”

  I told her what she wanted to hear so she wouldn’t feel bad about my sadness. “Yeah…alright.”

  11

  Derek

  I knocked on the door with my elbow because my arms were full of grocery bags.

  Dad opened it a moment later, wearing that same tight face, his exterior acting as a dam to keep everything deep inside. Whenever my mom was around, he was calm and confident, but when it was just us, he let it out.

  He was terrified.

  He looked at me, his eyes lifeless.

  “I picked up some groceries.”

  “Oh… Why?” He wasn’t himself at all. He didn’t talk like he normally did, didn’t react like he normally did, didn’t even seem happy to see me like he normally would.

  “Just thought you could use some stuff.”

  Dad continued to stand there.

  “You mind if I come in?” I asked. “Everything is a little heavy…”

  “Oh, sure.” He stepped aside.

  I walked into the condo and saw that the fresh flowers were gone, probably because my mom wasn’t working anymore. She used to take care of everything for them both, the mail, groceries, fresh flowers, the dry cleaning, everything. And now that she wasn’t, the place felt totally different.

  I carried the bags to the kitchen and started to put everything away.

  Dad followed me then leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes out the window.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “Napping.” His eyes were open and lifeless, reflecting the sunlight that came through the windows.

  After I put everything away, I turned to him. “You wanna go get something to eat or something?”

  He released a heavy sigh. “No.”

  I faced him, my heart breaking more and more every time I saw him. He wasn’t the strong man I remembered. He was like a ghost now.

  “I’m going to go pick up a few extra things, and then I’ll be back.”

  He turned back to me. “Pick up what things?”

  “Dry cleaning, grab the flowers from the florist. Mom likes flowers.”

  He stared at me with that same hard gaze, like my efforts weren’t touching. “It’s the middle of the day, Derek. You should be at work.”

  “I don’t care about work, Dad.” It was my whole life before this, but once this happened…I realized what my whole life should have been. It shouldn’t have been rockets and rovers. It should have been family…and the people I loved. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Then I’ll make dinner. I got Mom some ice cream even though you guys don’t—”

  “She can have whatever she wants.” He rubbed his jawline, which was a full beard at this point. He’d stopped shaving. He’d stopped showering. He didn’t go to work. He handed off his patients to someone else because he couldn’t think clearly and give them the care they deserved.

  “Alright. Then I’ll be back. Anything I can get you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Alri
ght.” I left the condo, and he didn’t say goodbye to me. He didn’t hug me. He didn’t show any affection at all…and I realized how much I took his love for granted.

  My dad watched TV in the living room while I worked in the kitchen.

  Mom’s voice came from the hallway. “Whoa, what’s going on here?” She was bubbly and positive, like nothing was wrong, like everything was exactly as it’d been before. “Flowers, something cooking in the kitchen when my husband is on the couch.”

  I left the pans and stepped into the dining area, seeing her in her pajamas, sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Hey, Mom.”

  She turned to look at me, her face lighting up in a beautiful smile, like she was still happy, even…even when she may not be happy forever. “Honey, did you do all this?” She came toward me then wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in for a warm hug.

  I held on to her differently than I used to, gripping her tightly, appreciating the moment like it might be the last one I ever had. Flashbacks of our memories at the cabin came flooding back to me, when we would make s’mores together in front of the fire, make fun of my dad for refusing to make a real burger, even at a summer barbecue. “Yeah…”

  My dad rose from the couch and came toward us, his persona different because the second she was in the room, he put up a front, pretending everything was okay even though he was dying a slow death.

  I wanted to cry. I almost did. But I knew I had to be strong for her. I had to bottle everything inside and pretend this was a bump in the road and nothing more. “I know you like flowers, so…”

  She cupped my face and smiled. “That’s so sweet. And now you’re making dinner.”

  “Dad’s favorite—salmon.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. So thoughtful.”

  “But I got you some ice cream, though…if you want dessert.”

  “Oh, I never get dessert. That sounds so nice. What flavor?”

  “Chocolate.”

  She squeezed my arm before she stepped away. “You made the right choice.” She looked the same, still had the same bright eyes, the same smile, and anyone on the street would have no idea what she was going through. And knowing her, she would never tell anybody. She would carry the burden alone. She moved to Dad and kissed him before walking to the couch.

  Dad smiled at her before she passed. Then his face went slack again, like all he could think about was losing her every single time she was out of his sight.

  “Dad, you want to help me in the kitchen?”

  He was unresponsive for a moment, like his mind had wandered elsewhere. Then he looked at me and gave a slight nod.

  We went into the kitchen, and we started to plate everything. It was salmon with slices of lemon on top with a side of broccoli and rice pilaf. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d make at home, but I remembered everything from growing up here. “She looks good.”

  He grabbed the silverware, his eyes down.

  “She’s in good spirits, so that’s a good sign—”

  He slammed the drawer then looked at me. “Just because someone looks good doesn’t mean they feel good. You have no fucking idea what is happening underneath her skin. Don’t fucking assume anything just because she looks good. It’s insensitive and ignorant. Most illnesses are invisible, and people assume everything is just fine because they don’t look sick.”

  I was floored because Dad had never said anything like that to me—ever. He’d never been harsh or aggressive. Even on his worst day, he was a loving man. Watching him lash out at me when I had good intentions was like looking in a mirror…at myself.

  All the times Emerson had tried to help me…and I treated her like shit.

  All the times she was patient with me because I was going through a hard time…and I took it for granted.

  I understood my dad was just stressed out, but it hurt anyway. Now, I had to take his outrage in silence. Now, I had to be compassionate and understanding, and it was a lot harder than I realized. But I did it. “Dad, I didn’t mean it that way. I just mean she’s strong and she’s staying strong, which is good.”

  He continued to stare me down like I was his enemy, not his son, not his everything.

  I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze, comforting him quietly, letting the tension pass.

  He breathed through the silence then dropped his look, closing his eyes as he let the momentary anger pass.

  I rubbed his back as I stood beside him, let him compose himself before we had to go back out there and have dinner. I didn’t know what to say to make things better, how to make this easier for him. I was doing everything I could, but nothing could subdue his pain. I didn’t say everything would be alright because I knew that would piss him off. So, I found something else to say. “I’m here, Dad. Right here.”

  I changed my schedule around so I could be there for my parents.

  They didn’t ask me to do anything. They didn’t expect me to do anything. But I wanted to be there in case anything ever came up. I worked two days a week and spent the other three at home with my parents—weekends, too.

  Instead of knocking, I just let myself inside.

  Mom was on the couch watching TV, while Dad worked on his laptop at the dining table.

  “I picked up lunch.” I shut the door behind myself then walked over to my mom to give her a hug.

  She was bundled up on the couch with her feet on the coffee table, her hair and makeup done, but her clothes baggy and comfortable. “Lunch? You didn’t have to do that, Derek.”

  “Wait until you see what I got.” I pulled out the container. “I went to your favorite Chinese place.”

  “But that’s all the way in Brooklyn.”

  “So? It’s worth it.”

  Her eyes softened. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing, and I love how much I get to see you, but I understand you have responsibilities, honey. I’m going to get through this, so you don’t need to completely overturn your life.”

  “I don’t care about work, Mom. I…I honestly couldn’t care less about it.” Even if everything worked out fine, I wanted to make this as easy as possible on her, to make her smile—and seeing me made her smile.

  I carried the bag of takeout to the kitchen.

  Dad barely looked at me as I passed.

  I opened the bag and pulled out the containers.

  Dad emerged behind me and spoke quietly so Mom wouldn’t hear. “Look, I know you’re trying to cheer her up, but she can’t eat shit like this all the time. She needs to eat clean and healthily so her body can do what it needs to do. Knock it off.”

  I wanted to say I was used to my dad acting this way, but it was jarring every single time. He was a completely different person. It reminded me of when he was married to Valerie, when he was angry and pissed off all the time. Now that he was afraid of losing my mom, it was like he reverted to who he used to be.

  Which was exactly what I had done…

  Fuck.

  “Did you hear me?” he said quietly.

  I turned to him and cleared my throat. “Yeah, got it.”

  There was no hug. There was no kindness. There was…nothing.

  Mom and I sat on the couch and played checkers while Dad showered in their bedroom.

  I always won all our games, even when I was just ten years old, but she wanted to play with me anyway. But as I got older, I started to let her win. I did that now—and I let her win every time.

  She jumped two of my pieces and collected the checkers. “Ha. Gotcha.”

  I gave her a slight smile. “Damn, you’re good.”

  She smiled, like she knew I was letting her win but was a good sport about it. “How are you, honey?”

  “I’m good,” I said automatically. “What about you?”

  “I’m happy. I haven’t spent this much time with you since you were little.”

  I dropped my gaze immediately and stared at the board, the guilt hitting me like a spray of bullets. My breathing hitched, and I inst
antly felt sick, my eyes watering slightly.

  “Derek, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” Her hand moved to my arm. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Truly. I’m just…really enjoying this time with you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have been here more.”

  “Shh, it’s fine.” She rubbed my arm. “We’ve got many, many years together, so don’t get so choked up about it.”

  I nodded and let my eyes dry because breaking down would only make her feel worse.

  She turned back to the board. “Your turn.”

  I made a random move, putting no thought into it because I was trying to lose on purpose.

  “You’re doing a great job with your dad.”

  He acted like he hated me, so that was surprising.

  “He does his best to act like everything is normal, but I catch him crying in the middle of the night sometimes. He was crying in his sleep just last night.”

  “He loves you so much, Mom.”

  Her eyes dropped. “I know he does. And I know he’s scared because he deals with this all day every day…and he lost his father to cancer. I tell him every day he’s not going to lose me. But that doesn’t seem to make him feel better.”

  “He just… You’re everything to him. He doesn’t know who he is without you. He’s…acting the way he used to when I was little.”

  She stared at me, silently asking for more of an explanation.

  “When he was married to Valerie. Just really harsh and mean and…cold. He’s acting the way he did before he met you because he doesn’t know what else to do. I don’t take it personally because I understand he’s stressed, but…I miss him. I realize how much I took him for granted. And if…if…if we lose you…I’ll lose him too.” I took a deep breath to stifle the sob before it came out.

  She grabbed my forearm and gave it a squeeze. “Honey, look at me.”

  I kept my eyes down.

  “Honey.”

  I lifted my chin and looked at her.

  “You’re not going to lose me. And you aren’t going to lose him either. Many decades from now, he’ll go first…because that’s just how it is with men, and then I’ll go. But that time is not now. I promise you.”