Page 55 of Give Me Redemption

We never dove into anything personal. I never told him about my boys. He doesn’t know anything about my Army life. I’m not even sure why I’ve never talked about it. I guess it was just two totally different worlds, and it was hard connecting one with the other.

In the Army, I was Jace Grant. Tough guy, quick on my feet, and a good shot.

Here, I’m a fuck-up, Bryce Grant’s younger brother, and even though they’ve never said it, I feel like I’m a disappointment to my family.

“I was hoping we could clear the air between us,” he says, squinting his eyes from the blinding sun.

I take a drag from my smoke. “You mean, you could tell me the truth about everything?”

He nods, looking ahead, biting down on his lip as a wrinkle forms between his brow. His hand goes to his head, and he scrubs over it, a sign he’s uneasy.

“I’ve always tried to shield you from the truth of our life. When you were little, I shut doors and turned music on to keep you from hearing them fight. To keep you from hearing our father turn into a pathetic excuse of a man. I didn’t want you seeing that shit,” he says, waving his hand in the air as though it’s right in front of us. It might as well be. It’s always the elephant in the room.

Our past.

“I cleaned up bottles and picked up needles. Dove into dumpsters for cans to recycle so you wouldn’t miss a meal because Dad would be too drunk or brokenhearted to remember he had children to feed. Hell, I even stole a few toys so you could have something to play with.” He chuckles, looking stumped.

I look down at the ground, holding my cigarette between my fingers. I watch as the smoke drifts upward, reminding me of a time Bryce still thought he had to swipe toys from shelves.

“Why did you do that?” Lee asks Bryce as we sit in his office. Big game hang on the walls around us from where he and Uncle Monnie go hunting. I think they look cool, but Bryce hates them. He hates everything.

“Jace wanted it,” he says with a shrug.

Lee places his cigar between his lips and leans back in his chair. “So, because Jace wanted it, you thought you needed to take it?” he asks, speaking over the cigar.

“Yes,” Bryce says without a second thought.

I’m not sure what’s really going on. I guess Lee doesn’t want me to have toys. I look down, checking out the new shoes Lee and Emily got me.

I love them. I forgot to take them off when I got home from school. I don’t want them to get dirty. I don’t remember ever having new shoes that no one else has worn before.

“Look at me,” Lee says. I look up, thinking he might be talking to me.

“Both you boys look at me. This is your home now. You will work, you will know what it’s like to get dirt under your nails, and appreciate this land we live on. But you will also get things. You will never have to steal again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Lee,” Bryce says. I don’t say anything, and Bryce nudges me.

“Yes, Lee,” I reply.

“Good,” he says. “I know right now everything is still new. I know you’re scared, and you miss your parents, but sometimes life changes, and sometimes it’s for the better. I promise you will grow to love it here, and maybe one day you’ll call me Pops.”

I flick the ashes from the end of my smoke and walk over to sit down beside Bryce. “I know,” I say, resting my helmet beside my leg.

“You know?” he asks.

“I’m not stupid, Bryce. I knew our parents fought, and I knew our father cried and drank himself into a stupid slumber. I saw things even when you tried to cover them up. I heard things before the music came on.

“Did I understand any of it at the time? No, but I knew we weren’t like other families. After we moved in with Lee and Emily, I thought about the family we lost daily. I recollected the bad memories and the stuff I’d seen and heard.

“I was sad about our father, hurt and pissed about our mother, but realized you were the important one. You were my family and the only thing that mattered to me. As long as I had you, I knew I’d be okay.” I hit my cigarette and lean back on the bench. Gray smoke passes through my lips, and I remember why we’re out here. “But then you lied.”

“Can’t you see why I lied? I’ve only ever known to protect you. To make sure you were okay.”

“I’m not a goddamn kid anymore. I’m a grown man,” I yell, hitting my chest. “I’ve fucking killed people, Bryce. With these hands.” I hold them up in front of me. “I don’t need protecting.” I pull my shirt away from my chest. “Do you know the shit I’ve seen? It’s far worse than anything our parents could have done.”

“No, I don’t, because you never talk about it.”

“What would you like me to say? I’ve had to shoot a kid to keep him from killing me? I’ve walked into homes and seen dead bodies everywhere from a bomb thrown from a piece of shit car. I’ve witnessed my buddy’s arm get blown off when he wasn’t more than twenty feet from me. You don’t just casually bring this shit up.”

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