Page 91 of Finding Fate

Fifty-Three

Maddox

Iopen the back door of the car and unbuckle Madden’s seatbelt, letting him hop down to the floorboard to get out. “Will they sound like you do, Daddy, or like me?” he asks, his accent thick when he speaks English. I can tell it’s an adjustment for him, because occasionally he’ll start asking a question in Greek and then have to stop himself and re-ask in English.

Personally, I think he’s smart as a whip to be able to do that so young, because at twenty-four I can’t imagine learning another language, but I’m determined to figure out a way to so that he doesn’t feel like he sticks out. I’m almost relieved to know he’ll go to school in a place like Miami where cultural differences are much more common than a place like this.

I squat so that we’re eye to eye. “They’re going to sound like me, Madden.”

“How come I don’t sound like you or Mommy?” He pauses to think, and when he does speak, I make sure to listen to him. “The kid at that place looked at me funny and asked why I sounded different.”

“When we let you play on the jungle gym at the park after you ate your chicken nuggets?” He nods. “He probably had never heard someone with a Greek accent. Greece is far away. Mommy was born hereandlearned how to talk here. That’s why she sounds like me.”

“I want to sound like you.”

“Why? I like the way you sound. It means you’ve lived in a cool place.”

“Because you’re my dad.”

“Well, you are like me.”

“How?”

“When I was a kid and went to a new place on vacation, people I didn’t know said I talked really country.”

“What’s country?”

“When I talked to people that lived there, I sounded different than they did. It was slower and had a twang to it. That’s how they knew I was from the south. People all over the world sound different. It makes them unique.”

“So in a different place you will sound different like I do here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready to meet your grandparents and your uncle? If not, we can stay out here a little longer.”

“I’m ready. I think. Am I ready, Daddy?”

I laugh and stand, reaching for his hand. “Yeah, I think you’re ready. You look sharp. Your Uncle Riggan is going to try to tell you it’s not cool to dress nice. We don’t listen to anything he says that isn’t related to music. It would do him some good to look nice from time to time.”

“Uncle Rig-gan is wrong. Daddy is right. Got it.”

I laugh again. The kid is going somewhere. Riggan is going to kill me. It’ll be worth it. When I turn around Gabby is swiping underneath her eyes, trying not to smear her makeup. She wore those jeans because she knows I like ripped up jeans on her. I like seeing her tan skin peeking through. I’ve always liked her thighs. They’re not big, but they’re made with some meat. I like the new leopard print heels she called ‘booties’ that she’s wearing even more.

When she told her dad we were going to find Madden an outfit for today, he handed her back her credit cards and said we’d work it out over time. Right now, she hasn’t made a decision for her future. She stared at one the whole car ride saying she wasn’t going to use it. I forced her to buy a new outfit for herself with it. I can be a man of compromise. She needed a car. He gave her a car. I’ll pay the insurance and put gas in it. He agreed that was fair.

The thing is, I’m not the bad guy. We’re together and we have our son. If her dad wants to feel like he’s supporting her in ways by giving her play money because she hasn’t let him in years, then whatever. She likely deserves it for a while anyway. She gave up college while all of her friends went and the life of luxury she was always used to. She showed me the house she was renting with another girl. The place looked like a dump if you ask me. I got a little angry. It reminded me of some of the places we’ve found Riggan on drug binges. She tried to play it off that the inside is much nicer than the outside. Not likely.

She fans her face with her hands. She’s beautiful, even on days like today when she’s been bitching over some breakout on her face that only she can see as she tries to cake makeup on it. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why in the hell she didn’t tell me to fuck off that night I had the balls to talk to her. I keep trying. It just doesn’t make sense. “What’s wrong?”

“I knew you’d be a good daddy, but it still makes me emotional to witness. Stupid hormones. I don’t miss this crying over everything part.”

I walk toward her and wrap my free arm around her, all three of us walking down the sidewalk toward the front porch. The sun is starting to set.

As we climb the front steps, the door swings open to Micah stepping over the threshold. Same dirty-blond hair. Same green eyes. A beard the same color as his hair he keeps trimmed close to the face. Slimmer build than me. More casual with his nice Southern Marsh tee shirt and jeans and expensive boots. His sunglasses are sitting backward on the back of his neck with the elastic strap that holds them around his neck on his chest. He’s thirty-one. He came easily. I took time. According to Mom anyway.

Based on the smile that bottoms out when his eyes land on Madden at my side, I’m guessing he was going to give me shit over not coming to see him in a while. “Jesus Christ,” he says, just before looking at Gabby and then at me. “Why does that kid look just like you, Maddox?”

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