Page 65 of The Summer of ’98

“I know.” I couldn’t even look at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” she said and stood up, leaving the room. It was obvious to me that wasn’t the end of the conversation, but a pin was in it for now. All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse.

Ellie let out a quivering breath, more tears too. She shot up out of her seat, so I did too, keeping close as she aggressively wiped at her eyes and cheeks. “I’m going to go upstairs,” she whispered. “I need to lie down or pack or something.”

“Come on,” I told her and took her hand. We walked upstairs, passing Noah as we went. Ellie kept her head down, but it was still painfully obvious that she was upset. By some miracle, Noah didn’t question it or make some careless remark, he just watched us until we were out of sight. I closed Ellie’s bedroom door behind us, pulled her onto the bed with me, and then we snuggled down, getting comfortable.

“Your mom looked so disappointed,” Ellie said, fighting to keep her voice even. It wouldn’t have mattered how still she kept her voice; her shoulders were shaking. “This isn’t how I wanted the start of our relationship to go, Leroy.”

“I know, baby,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll get through it.”

She didn’t respond and I wasn’t sure how to take that because it scared me to think that she didn’t agree. It didn’t help that she wouldn’t let me go back to Waco with her so that we could be together during this process. It made me ill to think about the fact that I couldn’t hold her hand or hug her after the procedure was over. I felt like I should be there for her and it was going to be hard not to be. But respecting her choices seemed more important right now.

After a while of quietly internalizing my thoughts, or trying to understand them, Ellie’s breathing became shallow and I carefully peered down to see her lids closed, lips parted. Even in her sleep, she looked distressed. Still, it must have been somewhat more peaceful than being awake and endlessly tearing up over the fact that her life had been turned upside down. As much as I wanted to stay right there with her, I was too restless, and I didn’t want to wake her up. Carefully shifting out from under her head, I hopped off the bed and slipped out of the room.

Dad was on the back deck when I wandered outside, hoping to find some sense of calm in the fresh air. It was still raining—not as heavy as it had been this morning but enough that I stayed under the deck awning. Dad had been out most of the morning and I wasn’t sure when he got back but it was obvious that Mom had found time to fill him in. He watched me, perplexed, as I slowly approached and sat down on the opposite side of the outdoor table. The worst part was the silence while I waited for him to say something. It wasn’t going to be pretty, that was for sure. He’d warned me about this, less than a month ago. Don’t be acting stupid, boy. He was going to blow a fuse and I couldn’t blame him.

“I love you, son,” he finally said, and for some reason that I couldn’t understand, that sentence alone hit me right in the middle of the chest and I dropped my head into my hands, tears coming on in full force. “It’s going to be okay, Leroy. No matter what happens, all right?”

I nodded, still hiding my face. It killed me that I’d let my father down. He’d always been there for me, talked to me, communicated as if I were an equal and not a child because he trusted me and trusted that I was responsible. I’d let him down in the one way that he’d always cautioned me about. Suddenly, I felt his hand under my arm, pulling me up out of the chair. As soon as I stood, he pulled me into a tight hug, and I cried even harder. The shame of his disappointment was ten times worse than the shame I’d felt when mom told me off in the living room, and I didn’t think that was possible.

“I’m sorry,” my voice was muffled by tears and his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“I know,” he said, holding the back of my head. “It’s not good, son, but it’ll be fine. Your mother and I love you and we’re here. We’re disappointed, but we’re here.”

We stood like that for a while and the comfort he provided was relief I didn’t think I would have when it came to Dad knowing the truth. I’d expected to be reamed out and told what an idiot I was. Not that he’d ever treated me like that before, so I wasn’t sure where that fear came from. Perhaps it was a self-reflection of how I felt about myself in that moment.

When we parted, I was calmer, and we sat down in our chairs again. Dad inhaled a deep breath and his gaze went out across the back garden. The lawn was pooling and the flower petals were dotted with raindrops. “I have to ask,” he said. “No condom?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

There was no good reason. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing, I guess. We didn’t talk about it. We . . . we were stupid.”

“You were,” he said, shrugging unapologetically when I looked at him. “How often have you done that? And I don’t mean with Ellie.”

“That was the first time,” I mumbled.

He sighed and rubbed his face. “As much as I hate to ask, did you at least . . . you know . . .”

He rolled his arm in a circular motion, brows raised as if I should understand what the hell he was asking. “What?”

“Did you pull out?”

“Ugh. Yeah, Dad. I did.”

“Not very effective, told you that before.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Again, silence descended upon us. We watched the rain pelting down on the pool, creating rippled patterns, listening to the light drum on the tree leaves. Questions kept on forming on the tip of my tongue. Questions about parenthood and fatherhood. But it seemed pointless considering we weren’t going to get that far. So, I sat there and said nothing.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re only eighteen,” Dad suddenly said, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re mature and sensible for the most part. It’s easy to think you’re a hell of a lot older than you are. But the fact is, you’re a teenager and teenagers make mistakes. Hell, even adults do. I’ve met a ton of grown men who don’t have the amount of common sense that you do.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

He chuckled quietly. “Not sure what my point is, except that you’re a good kid who made a dumb decision. We’ve all been there.”

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