Page 39 of October
That was love. Wasn't it? Providing. Showing up every now and then. Smiling. Handing over a wrapped box.
How stupid can one man be?
How blind?
Because while I was measuring love in receipts and ribbons, he was growing up without me. Learning to navigate the world without my guidance. Becoming the kind of young man I didn't teach him to be, but the kind his mother did. It was all my fault. Not circumstance. Not the job. Not my father. Me.
My choices. My distractions. My priorities.
I told myself I was doing what I had to. That I was building something for them, for my wife, for my kids. But what good is a kingdom if no one feels safe inside it? What good is an empire if I'm the reason it crumbles? And now? Now I'm standing in the wreckage, smoke still rising, asking myself why I ever thought legacy meant more than love.
The world felt quieter now. I stood behind the other parents, half-hiding, feeling like an imposter in my own child's life. They were all laughing, talking, invested. I was just a ghost with a guilty conscience. At the end of practice, I stayed still. I didn't want to distract him. Didn't want to shift the mood. I just watched him, really watched him.
Jimmy laughed with his teammates. He offered the coach a hand gathering cones and gear. He tousled a younger boy's hair, gavea high-five to a girl who looked like she'd been crying after missing a goal. And then, he smiled at someone. A girl standing by the fence, eyes shy, cheeks pink. That smile, that hesitant flicker of something more, it hit me like a punch.
When did my baby grow up?
He grabbed his bag and turned to leave. That's when he saw me. His whole body froze. I saw it, shock first. His eyebrows lifted. Then confusion, his step faltering. Then anger, the subtle tension in his jaw, and finally, something worse: panic.
He dropped his bag and jogged over fast. Not out of joy. Out offear.
"Dad, what's wrong? Is Mom okay?" His voice was tight, breath catching as he fumbled for his phone, fingers already dialing.
My heart shattered. He saw me—just me—and his first instinct was to think something terrible had happened. That's how disconnected I'd become. That's how little he expected me to be here forhim. I reached out and gently caught his wrist. "Hey..hey," I said softly. "Everyone's fine."
He looked up at me warily. "Then... what are you doing here?"
I tried to smile but my lips barely moved. "I called your mom earlier. Asked if I could take you home today instead."
His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Just wanted to talk," I said. "Maybe get something to eat."
He blinked. "Again... why?"
A lump rose in my throat. I tried to swallow it down. "Because I have some things to tell you."
He didn't say anything after that. Just gave me a stiff nod, eyes guarded, and followed me silently to the car. I unlocked the doors and we both slid in, the quiet between us louder than any argument we'd ever had.
The engine hummed to life, but the silence between us didn't budge. I kept trying. Small questions. Safe ones.
"How's school?"
"Fine."
"You like the new coach?"
"He's okay."
"You still playing guitar?"
"Sometimes."
Each answer hit the dashboard like a pebble. No spark, no rhythm. Just a wall I knew I'd built and was now begging to be let through. I pulled into a small café off the main road. Jimmy followed me without comment. We didn't go inside. Instead, I ordered at the window, one coffee and one scoop of cookies and cream—his favorite, I remembered too late.
We found a nearby park bench under the shade of a wide, weathered tree. I handed him the cone. He didn't thank me. I didn't expect him to. I just sat beside him, coffee cupped in my palms like it was something to hold on to.
A few seconds passed. Then a minute. The sun was starting to dip behind the rooftops. The air smelled like grass and distant barbecue. But in that moment, all I could smell was regret.
