I should have been the bigger man then. I should have recognized her cry for help. I should have gone to her. I should have shared the world of hurt on her shoulders. Instead, I screamed back at her. Instead, I slammed the door and left her on the floor pleading for forgiveness. Instead, I ran away.
I didn’t see the little boy sitting on the stairs in tears, listening to every word.
I abandoned both of them—all of them. My form of grieving was to bury myself in my architecture business and to avoid contact with my entire family—even my kids. They didn’t understand. I stayed away for weeks at a time, sleeping in my downtown Rochester office. Danny was twelve at the time of his baby brother’s death, but we never saw how much of a loss it was for him, too. At least I know I didn’t. Sophie and I were bitter with each other for years. I criticized her for every failure. She would fight back because she was tired of carrying all the blame herself. She saw a counselor for several years. She needed someone who would actually listen to her. Someone who would help her parent her other two kids while her husband was off nursing his own guilt.
Finally, several months before her death, we began to mend the fences, began to become friends again. I’d begun seeing a counselor myself, and one day he asked me to be quiet, sit, and listen—something I didn’t think counselors ever were supposed to do. He talked. He told me what he thought she must have been feeling, what she must have been going through. It was a wake-up call. Four years after Logan’s death I apologized to Sophie for the first time. Sophie being Sophie, she accepted it with no questions. She was always a much better person than me. If we were honest, we didn’t have to look that far inside to know how much we loved each other, but my years of foolishness, of bitter selfishness, had created a gap between us I should have bridged long before I did. I can’t go back, but I wish I’d known how much of an impact our emotional separation had on the kids, especially Danny. Last year I told him I had at one point filled out the paperwork for a divorce. I admitted it to him wanting to come completely clean.
It turned out he’d already known. Sophie had found the papers. She never even told me that. Danny saw her reading them, and when she put them away he took them out and read them himself. He asked Sophie if I was leaving them, and she told him I wasn’t, that I wouldn’t—I was just upset with her and we’d work it out. Some friends at school, whose parents were also divorced, told him parents always said that when they’re in denial. His dad was leaving him, they were sure of it. For a boy who had always idolized his father, that was the worst possible forecast. Even though I’d been largely absent the past few years, Danny had stubbornly held out hope I’d come back. At fifteen he finally gave up on that hope. At fifteen my only son developed an intense hatred for his dad.
When Sophie died a year later, he blamed me. But then, I did too. I should have gone to get the groceries instead of her, but the Bulls game was on. I made the wrong choice. I could accept his hatred. I could accept his refusal to give me a break. He didn’t want to come live with me at the cabin after Sophie died, and I knew he didn’t. I didn’t even ask him.
He joined the military as soon as he could to get away from me. I was fortunate his going away was what eventually brought him back to me. When he did return, we spoke at length and I leveled with him. I didn’t need or want an apology from him. Not for his years of bitterness and anger towards me, or for any of the many hurtful things he’d said to me. I deserved them. But I did hope he’d be able to accept my apology at some point. I hoped he’d realize I was sincere.
I’m not saying Danny forgave me then, but I do feel like he gave me another chance. One of the things he told me that night was that he never let Hayley in on what was going on, why I was always gone. She never knew. Sophie always defended my absence and Danny did as well. They stood up together for me, the coward. That alone spelled out the burden I’d been for him and legitimized so many of his reasons to hate me.
He’d come around even more this past year, and we at least created the foundation for a father/son bond again. We worked a lot of problems out. Having Hayley back living with me made a big difference too. I began to see a little light again.
As he stood in the rain and watched me say goodbye to Sophie a few days ago, Danny knew my pain. He knew my regret. But as much as I’ve wanted to pull him closer to me, I’ve made a conscious effort to let him be the one who comes to me. I’ve backed off, and I’ve given him space. I’m more thrilled than ever we have what we do today, and I don’t want to mess that up.
Now, as we gathered at the farm near Mount Rushmore, I watched him watch Tara. I knew that look on his face, as I’d seen it directed at me many times. He didn’t trust her. Whether that had anything to do with me, or not, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to ask, but didn’t. I didn’t have a problem with her. Clearly. But even if I had given her a free pass, Danny was reserving judgment.
TWENTY-EIGHT: “Coin Toss”
Outside Newcastle, Wyoming, Captain Eddie had a decision to make. Should he turn around and go back to Deadwood, certain he’d find what he expected regarding the fires? Or should he zip straight across on Highway 16, Mount Rushmore Road, towards Custer and hope to cut them off? He knew, even if they had been in Deadwood, they still had to go south to get to Colorado. Running back there now would only cost him time, and the Americans would probably be hidden elsewhere by then. They still had to come west towards him at some point. From his maps he could see, no matter what, the Americans would eventually have to pass by one of two ways to continue on their mapped-out route, and he could easily guard both of them. He opted to forget Deadwood and head towards Custer.
The dilemma was the presence of the other two Qi Jia companies. He and his men had avoided scrutiny and questions thus far because their story made sense. But those other two companies knew Eddie’s men were supposed to be heading east now. Eddie had probably erred in making that so definitive. Now, if those other companies ran into him again in Custer, they would question his motives and report his moves. Central Command hadn’t contacted him yet, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t. He was sure they had their ways. He couldn’t afford to run into either of those other companies. Somehow, he had to stay out of their way—physically and on the radar screen—as he and his men passed through Custer. That could get tricky. A single passing drone would pick them up with ease. Like the Americans, Eddie was going to have to hide. Getting caught in the process would be impossible to explain. His actions would be viewed as treason, and in Qi Jia’s code of conduct handbook Eddie had already read what treason would get him: A date with the firing squad.