Page 34 of Connected
Still holding hands, they followed him around the side of the house and into a large backyard with a few trees and some well-tended vegetable beds. There was an elaborate treehouse in the back corner and, up against the house, a flagstone patio with a big grill and an assortment of outdoor furniture.
Andy waved them to some chairs. “How about iced tea?”
“Sure,” said Owen as he took a seat. It felt weird interacting with this stranger with whom he’d spent his first eighteen years sharing a bedroom.
As soon as Andy ducked inside, Keaton leaned closer to touch a finger to Owen’s lower lip. “You wanted that beer he offered. Thanks for how you handled it. That was considerate of you.”
Owen didn’t think it was a big deal, but he also realized that few people had ever prioritized Keaton’s needs and well-being. He silently vowed to make it his goal to do so.
Andy returned with three frosty glasses, which he set on the table before sitting opposite Keaton and Owen. His resemblance to their father was uncanny, like meeting a ghost, although hisfeatures were softer than their father’s had been. “Thanks for coming to see me,” Andy said.
“My boss sent me to Copper Springs,” Owen blurted. “I had an assignment here.” He waved vaguely at his own face and felt like an idiot.
“But you chose to stop by. Thank you.” Andy took a long drink and Owen followed suit.
Keaton sat there, drawing squiggles in the condensation on his glass. Maybe he was tuning in to Andy’s emotions. Owen didn’t envy Keaton his talent, but at the moment he wished he could borrow it. He would have very much liked to know how Andy was feeling, but Owen could barely sort himself out.
“You have a son?” Owen finally managed.
Andy gave a broad smile. “Two. Great kids. How about you?”
Owen, who knew he would have made a terrible parent, almost laughed. “No.” He had some more iced tea.
Some time passed; it felt like centuries. Then Andy sighed, exactly the way their father had when money was especially tight or his boss was a jerk or one of his sons had done something stupid. “Look, Owen. I’d really love to know what you’ve been up to all these years. I bet it’s been interesting. But… I don’t think you’re up to that kind of thing with me, and I don’t blame you. Maybe someday you will be. But you came here, and there are two things I need to tell you.”
Automatically, Owen tensed. But Keaton was right beside him and didn’t act upset, so probably Andy wasn’t planning anything too nasty. “What?” asked Owen, knowing he sounded rude but unable to stop himself.
“Well, first off, I have something for you.” Andy rose slightly so he could slide an envelope out of his back pocket. When he set it on the table, Owen saw his own name written on the front, the penmanship shaky. “It’s a letter from Dad.”
Owen hissed and leaned back as if the thing might bite him.
Which made Andy sigh again. “When you first left?—”
“Got kicked out.”
“When you were first kicked out, Mom and Dad wouldn’t talk about you at all. It was like you’d never existed. And Mom, I’m sorry to say, stayed that way until the day she died. She was a bitter woman and it got worse as she aged.”
Remembering what Miller had said—which might have been true—Owen asked, “When did she die?”
“Seven years ago. Got in a car wreck on the way home from Walmart.”
A hint of emotion threatened, but Owen slammed a wall around it so hard that Keaton startled a bit. “Oh,” was all Owen said.
“After she died, Dad suddenly got old. But I think he also finally started to think about some choices he’d made and the way he’d treated some people, including you. He started talking about you. Good things, like how well you did in school and how hard you always worked. He didn’t want me to find you—I think he was too scared—but after he got sick, when he realized his time was short, he wrote you this letter. Asked me to give it to you if I saw you someday.”
“What’s it say?” Owen hadn’t touched it yet.
Andy shook his head. “Dunno. It’s your letter.”
After a bit of indecision, Owen took the thing and tucked it onto a pocket. He could always burn it later if he wanted to. “Thank you,” he said to Andy.
“There’s something else.” Andy polished off his tea, looking very much like he wished it was something stronger. He straightened his shoulders and looked Owen in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Owen.”
“Sorry?”
“For being a shithead. For harming you when I should have supported you. For spending way too long telling myself I didthe right thing—telling Mom and Dad about you—because being gay is a sin. Except it’s not. The real sin was mine.”
Owen had no idea how to react to this. He didn’t know how he felt about it. He didn’t…. He looked to Keaton in mute supplication.
