Page 112 of Seasoned
“You’ve heard all of that before,” Kendrick said, with a bitter twist to his upper lip.
“Yes, I have,” Tyson said, pain piling up from the bottom of his stomach. “I thought we were getting closer. I thought…” His teeth clenched in frustration. He didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t be wasting his time, could he? “I’m sorry about tonight. I do want to spend time with you. I love you.”
Kendrick’s gaze flew to his. “You don’t.”
“I do. Whether you believe it or not. I didn’t do a good job of showing you when you were growing up, but I do love you. I didn’t cancel our plans tonight because I don’t care. I wasn’t thinking, but I promise to do better.”
“It’s not just tonight’s plans. I’m surprised you came to San Diego because you never seemed to want to spend time with me before. You took Carina and her family on vacation last year, but you didn’t ask if I wanted to come.”
“I didn’t think you would. I figured—”
“You got all this money now and you don’t do anything for me. Three years ago you bought Niecy a car for her birthday, but Patrick and Mom pay for everything for me. You gave up all your responsibility to me, and I’m your only son.”
“You said you didn’t want my help.”
“You’re supposed to still try!” Kendrick bellowed. “I don’t get emotional or financial support from you.” He slammed his fist into his palm.
The silence in the room sounded extra quiet after his outburst.
Maybe Yvonne was right again. He should have told Kendrick how he contributed to his lifestyle, because clearly his son had secretly been holding what he considered Tyson’s lack of financial support against him.
With a boulder of dread in his stomach, Tyson said the words he’d been afraid to say before, for fear of further alienating his son. “I covered your car payment three times since you’ve been out here, and the down payment for the car that you thought came from your mom came from me.”
Kendrick’s frown deepened and surprise lit his eyes.
“When you went part-time, I started subsidizing your rent.”
“Mom and Patrick—”
“Your mom and Patrick promised to keep quiet about what I was doing. I asked them not to say anything and told them I would take care of whatever you needed.”
“Why would you do that when you know I barely wanted to talk to you?”
“You’re my son, Kendrick.”
He swallowed and surveyed the room. “You really been helping me with my rent and…and the other stuff?”
Tyson nodded. “I had to do something—even if you didn’t know—to make up for all the times I screwed up. For missing your basketball tryouts, for instance.”
“You didn’t miss anything. I sucked,” he mumbled.
“That’s not the point. I should’ve been here,” Tyson said, resting his elbows on his knees. “I should’ve been there when you auditioned for the commercials and shouldn’t have been late those two times your mother asked me to pick you up from your friend’s house.”
“Three times,” Kendrick quietly correctly.
Only three times and he still managed to fuck it up.
Tyson placed a hand on his son’s knee. “I want to come with you when you go to New York next week.”
“Nah, you don’t have to do that. I’ve already made contact with a few people, and the talent agency said they’d helped me find a roommate.”
“I want to. Come on, Kendrick. I want to spend as much time with you as you’ll let me, and I don’t want you to have to make that move on your own. This is a major decision, and you should have support, and not from someone who wants to make money off of you, but someone who cares about you as a person.”
Silence filled the room, and Tyson waited, worry eating a hole in his chest while his son kept his eyes trained on the floor.
“You would do that for me?” His voice cracked.
“Yes,” Tyson said quietly, hating that his son doubted his love and support, his willingness to move mountains and rid his path of any obstacles.
