A Rocker and a Hard Place (9 page)

“Thanks, but I’m going to be busy on Monday.” He squeezed my hand which he was still holding.

“Alright. You kids have a nice evening.” Glenn grinned and I realized that he knew exactly what he had interrupted.

“Where were we?” Tyler muttered, turning his attention back to me.

My lower lip grazed against his lightly. “Right… about….here.”

“Mom? Tyler?”

T.J. was awake.

“Be right there,” I called.

Tyler reluctantly pulled away. “The universe is conspiring against us.”

“The joys of a small town, boring life,” I corrected him as we headed inside. “Nosy neighbors and needy kids.”

Tyler stopped just outside the door. “It’s a pretty great life.”

“Yeah, it is. Plus we always have Monday.” I pushed up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly, as I had in that exact same spot over twenty years ago. This time I didn’t run away though. “I’m glad you came back to Salvation.”

“I’m glad I came back to you.”

Tyler

When Emma agreed to spend an entire day alone with me, I knew I had to make the most of it. There was a high likelihood that it might be my only chance to win her back. When Emma and T.J. left after dinner, and after our almost-moment on the porch, I hurried to put a plan into action. It was already Saturday night which didn’t give me much time. Fortunately, almost anything was possible with enough money.

Emma had to work on Sunday, so I convinced her to let me watch T.J. for the day. It was our first day alone together and I was more than a little nervous. But with him leaving for camp so soon, I wanted as much time with him as I could get.

My house wasn’t exactly in a state to entertain a ten-year-old boy, so Emma and I agreed that I should spend the day at her house. T.J. was more than happy to take care of our agenda for the day. We started with a marathon of video games. After a lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, T.J. invited me upstairs to see his room. It turned out that he was into building things- impressive Lego skyscrapers and an extensive model car collection. Even more impressive, an entire wall of bookcases filled with books.

“This is quite the library,” I said, running a finger over the glossy spines. He read everything from adventure to science fiction.

“I had more, but I donated a bunch to the library.” T.J. shrugged like it was no big deal. He plopped down on his bed with an exaggerated bounce. “Do you love my mom?”

The question was more than a little surprising. T.J. was a smart kid, more mature than others his age, but until that moment I hadn’t experienced his powers of perception.

“What?” I asked, sitting next to him on the bed.

In comparison to my son, I sounded like a moron.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with us. Usually when a man spends time with us, it’s because he’s in love with Mom.” T.J. was talking about something very adult while sounding very much like a little boy.

“I spend so much time with you because I like spending time with you.” I elbowed him softly. “Is that so hard to believe?”

T.J. smiled bashfully. “I like spending time with you, too.”

“So you won’t mind if I come around when you get back from camp?”

“I won’t mind.” His smile turned into a grin. “Mom won’t mind either.”

“Really? How do you know?” I wasn’t ashamed to hit my son up for
intel on Emma.

“
She likes having you around.” T.J. jumped to his feet and opened the small drawer in his nightstand. He pulled out a picture and handed it to me.

I took it carefully. “What’s this?”

“I found it in Mom’s room.” T.J. stabbed it with his index finger. “That’s you, right?”

My mouth dropped open as I took in the picture.
I had thought that Emma and I had never taken a picture together, but when I saw the two of us smiling up from the snapshot, everything came flooding back to me.

Junior year spring break- Emma and I jumped into my old truck and drove down to Nashville. We made up a lie for our fathers about a camping trip with friends. Instead, we had accepted a gig at a small theater called Lyric.

My parents had an old friend that ran a record label in town and I’d sent him a few songs that year. He’d been impressed and had booked us to play a couple of songs opening for one of his new artists. It was an awesome opportunity for us, but we were both more excited about a weekend away together.

We had a great time
exploring the city, enjoying the freedom and new adventure. In the morning, we had a sound check in a nearly empty theater. Emma grabbed one of the setup men and handed him a camera. Guitars in hand, we grinned happily from the stage. We had a few hours before the actual show and we spent it eating a lot of food and shopped for cowboy boots. By the time we were due at the theater, I’d almost forgot that we would actually be performing.

Emma and I had only ever played for each other. While my shyness had faded over the years, it had never disappeared completely. The thought of performing in front of a roomful of people twisted my stomach into knots. But I loved music, and I think part of me knew even then that I wanted to make a career out of it. So I stood at the side of the stage, willing myself to step forward. No amount of internal coaxing worked and my feet remained glued in place.

I felt Emma sidle next to me, her hand slipping into mine.

“You can do this,” she said, knowing exactly how petrified I was. “I’ll be right beside you.”

It was ridiculous that such a simple assurance could persuade me to put aside my fear, but that’s exactly what happened. With Emma by my side, I felt like I could do anything. The crowd was kind- applauding wildly when we finished.

Later, we lay next to each other on dumpy motel bed, staring at the cracks on the ceiling while we planned our future. We would go to college, get traditional careers, but still play our music at night and on the weekends. We would move to Nashville where music seemed to be everywhere. Emma wanted to be a lawyer and she joked about becoming my agent and helping me find a record deal. Even though she had been mostly kidding, dreaming out loud, her words sent wheels spinning in my head. That was the first moment I ever considered the possibility of making a living with my music. It could even be said that that night with Emma was my first small step away from her.

“Tyler?”

Staring at the picture, lost in the past, I had forgotten that T.J. was seated next to me. “Yeah?”

“Did you and my Mom used to date?”

My first instinct was to lie, though I wasn’t sure why. It just seemed like we were treading on sensitive territory, but I decided to stick with the truth as long as possible. “Yeah, we did. When we were younger.”

“Did you love her?” T.J. took back the photo and studied it closely.

“I did.”

“Why did you guys break up?”

“I moved out of town,” I said, which was mostly true.

“But now you’re back?”

“Yeah.”

T.J. looked at me with those green eyes, Emma’s eyes, and said knowingly, “And now you love her again, don’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

Had I really been so obvious?

“Because she’s amazing. You’d be crazy not to love her.”
T.J. shrugged and grinned.

My son was a smart kid.

“You’re right. I do love her.”

“Good.” T.J. put the picture back in the drawer. “Now we just have to get her to love you back.”

It turned out that T.J. wasn’t just being philosophical- he actually had a plan. By the time Emma got home from work, we had her favorite flowers in a vase on the table, her favorite meal- baked salmon and vegetables- ready to eat, and one of Wanda’s pies warming in the oven.

“What in the world is going on?” she asked, jaw open as she took in everything.

“Tyler made dinner!” T.J. pulled out a chair for her. “Sit, Mom.”

She sat, looking around nervously. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason?” I pretended to be offended. “Maybe I just really like to cook.”

“Ha.” Emma reached for her napkin and spread it carefully over her lap. “One of you must’ve done something bad today.”

“It wasn’t me!” T.J. started piling food onto her plate.

“Why aren’t you sitting?” she asked, still eyeing me suspiciously.

“I’m not staying to eat.”

Her eyes widened. “Why not? Is the food poisoned?”

“I sure hope not.” I ruffled T.J.’s hair on my way to the door. “You two should have a nice dinner together tonight. I’m sure you’d like some family time before T.J. leaves for camp.”

Emma flinched a little when I said “family,” but she nodded. “This is very nice of you, Tyler. Thank you.”

“No problem.” I tried to act like it wasn’t killing me to leave them. “I have some things to take care of for tomorrow anyway.”

I kept the forced smile on my face until the door closed behind me. I leaned heavily against it, my head pressed to the warm wood.

“You holding that door up?”

“The other way around,” I told Glenn, backing away from it slowly.

He was digging a deep hole near the fence post separating his yard from Emma’s. “Tough day?”

If you had told me a few weeks ago that my best friend would be an elderly man that lived next door to my ex-girlfriend and son, I wouldn’t told you to stop drinking so much. But that’s exactly what had happened over the last few days.

“Tell me something, Glenn. Am I an idiot to force myself into this family?”

“It’s a nice little family. I can see why you would want to be part of it.” Glenn folded his hands over the shovel handle and rested his chin on them.

“That’s not really what I meant.”

“You think you don’t deserve to be part of it? That your presence will do
them more harm than good?”

I shrugged. “It’s not that unreasonable. I’m not exactly a perfect man.”

“You and me both.” A sardonic smile. “But Wanda has never once asked for me to be perfect. I would be willing to bet that Emma is blessed with the same wisdom- a good man is better than a perfect man.”

“How do I know if I’m a good man?” I knew for a fact that I had not been a good man for the last ten years. Had I managed to change in just a few weeks?

“The fact that you are more concerned about what is right for them than what is right for you is a pretty good sign that you are a good man.” Glenn straightened and stabbed his shovel into the ground. “But what do I know? It’s been fifty years and Wanda still has to yell at me to put the toilet seat down.”

“Fifty years?” I said with a laugh. “And she hasn’t killed you in your sleep? What’s your secret?”

“Never, ever forget that every day you have with her is a gift. Even the bad ones.” Glenn winked and said, “And regular sex doesn’t hurt.”

With that pleasant visual image seared into my brain, I headed down the street. Glenn might’ve overshared in a big way, but his earlier advice was worth remembering.

I had been lying when I told Emma that I was getting ready for tomorrow. I’d already worked out all of those plans hours ago. But I did have another special project underway, this one for T.J.

When Emma decide it was time to tell T.J. about me, I wanted to be ready. I wanted my home to feel like a second home to him, and that started with setting up a bedroom. Fortunately, the house had a lot of empty rooms.

I had been sleeping in my dad’s old room, avoiding the memories of my own. But now I had a reason to purge that room and start building new memories. The room had needed some paint which I’d taken care of in the last few days and I had ordered a new mattress. Now I just needed to do some work to turn it into a kid’s room.

After moving around some boxes in the basement, I found my old toys. Racecars, G.I. Joes, and monster trucks. The ultimate reward came when I found an entire box of Legos. If that didn’t win over T.J., nothing would. I was turning to take the boxes upstairs when I knocked over a giant pile of old papers.

I could’ve just left them on the floor. No one but me would ever come down there. But I worried that there might be something important in that pile and that if the basement flooded, things could get ruined. So I put down my boxes and picked up the papers. The one on top, yellow and torn, caught my eye.

It had been so long since I’d last seen my father’s handwriting, but I recognized it instantly. After skimming through a handful of pages, I realized I was reading letters that he had written to my mother.

My father was dead, my mother long gone, but it still like I was invading their privacy as I read the correspondence. Growing up, I’d never thought of my father as a scholar nor a romantic. He had been a guy’s guy, a hard man. We’d talked about sports and cars, and we’d carefully avoided any subjects that might get too emotional. But when he wrote to my mother, he was a different man.

He told her many times that he loved her, that he felt lucky to have her in his life. He planned their future together and promised to marry her one day. Near the end of the stack, I found the letter where he mentioned me for the first time.

She got pregnant before they got married, something I had never known. From his words, I could tell that she was scared. She wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother and she didn’t want to get married yet. Somehow, he managed to convince her she was ready on both accounts because his last letter to her was written on their wedding day.

I
’d always wondered why my mother had left us. Dad hadn’t cheated on her or abused her. He’d provided everything she’d asked for and done his best to make her happy. But she had still left. Now I knew why. My father had loved a woman that hadn’t been capable of loving him back. She had never wanted to marry him, and she had never wanted me.

I wanted a drink. Actually, I wanted many drinks. It was instinct, or habit. But I wasn’t the same man now that I had been when I first returned to Salvation. I wasn’t sure yet if I was a good man, but I was certainly a better man.

I had to be better for T.J., and I wanted to be better for Emma. I may not have intended to bring a son into the world, but now that I knew about him, I was going to be the father that he deserved. I hadn’t loved Emma the way she deserved to be loved in the past, but I was going to spend the rest of my life making up for that.