Page 54 of The Story of You

Meanwhile, Father had gone from laughing to crying. “Silas. Silas, I’m sorry. I miss her so much.”

The humanity bleeding through him made me forget the mountain of awful things he’d done, and my faith that maybe it wasn’t too late to salvage our family was restored. We could make a comeback and become a new version of ourselves. We were Randalls after all. If anyone could do it, we could.

I consoled him. Eventually, the alcohol made him sleepy, and he passed out on top of me. Lord help me, I stayed far longer than I needed to, relishing in the comfort of having him near. I peered at his face to see if I could find any trace of him, my father, the one I adored so much. His face still radiated beauty and the promise of home I craved.

“You okay, butter-butterfly?” he murmured, his eyes still closed. He hadn’t called me that in a very long time.

Was he awake? Or was he talking in his sleep? Either way, tears filled my eyes as I missed him all the more. I wiped them away with my only free hand. I wasn’t okay. Not even a little bit. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

* * *

Silas

The next morning, I had to tell him what I’d done. There wasn’t a “good” time. I had to get to him before Uncle Pax did or he would be livid. At least if he knew, he could come up with some kind of story. “Sir, I fucked up,” I told him as I served him coffee and the breakfast I’d gotten up early to make for him.

I scrubbed my face and looked at Oliver in his highchair who I would have preferred to be asleep for this conversation, but that wasn’t to be. My body buzzed with nerves. My hands shook.

His eyes were intense. “What did you do?”

I took a breath and accepted my fate. “Uncle Pax called. I asked him if I could speak to Darius.”

His face went from concern to pure rage. He slid from his chair and advanced on me. His hand was in my hair. “You fucking idiot.”

“I told him I was joking,” I rushed out. My scalp complained when his fingers tightened. I didn’t want to cry out and scare Oliver who was watching for my reaction.

“That’s not gonna cut it, Silas.”

He tossed me. I tripped. My mouth hit the fucking ceramic-tile countertop. It’s the reason my left lateral incisor is fake. Too much of it broke off to save. My mouth spewed blood from my cut lip, and I swallowed it without warning. I choked. It wasn’t a major wound, just scary.

“Fuck,” Father said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … here…”

He helped me stand upright and when I stopped coughing blood all over the place, he grabbed a dishtowel and applied pressure. Oliver was crying. I was in too much pain to go to him. “I’ll grab him. Let’s get you to the dentist.”

I knew if Father missed work, someone missed surgery, but I couldn’t show up to the dentist's office with a baby by myself. I also needed Father’s influence. There was always someone who owed him a favor. “Mrs. Brandywine. He’s stayed there before,” I reminded him, speaking through pain and blood. “Maybe she can watch him today. That way you can drop me off somewhere and still go to work. I can hop a taxi home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Silas. This was my fault and I’ll take care of you. Leaving the baby with Mrs. Brandywine is a good idea though.”

Father got me in with a dentist buddy of his who was able to take the emergency case. I would need to go back for a second visit, but I was going to be all right.

The tooth-chipping incident worked in my favor. Father was apologetic. “I’m so fucking sorry, kid. Are you, all right?”

“I’m fine, Father. Don’t worry about it.”

He nodded. And stared. Then he confessed. “Look I … I haven’t been myself. Your mother’s death hit me hard. I hope you never have to lose the love of your life, son. It’s like losing a limb.”

I still wonder about his words that day. What would I do if I ever lost Lakshan? Would I go crazy too? Is that how he slowly turned into a monster? I can’t bring myself to think Father was always like this, so I don’t. I like to believe he went mad because he loved Mama so much.

“I couldn’t handle Darius. I thought he’d be better off away from here. I was spanking him all the time. It was getting to be too much for both of us.” The last part was true.

“Where is he, Father?” I pleaded. I was willing to beg.

“He’s safe. I’m not bringing him home yet. I have to get better first. Look at me. I’m a mess. Drinking every night. What I did to you this morning. I need to get things under control first.”

“Where is he?” I tried again.

“Some kind of foster home—a home for boys. The man assured me I wasn’t the first parent to do this. I won’t be the last. A few people I know have done it when they couldn’t handle their kids.”

A foster home? I didn’t know how they worked. Could Darius get adopted away? Was Father even able to keep track of where he was? What if they were mistreating him? He said he’d dropped him at the bus depot. Where was this home for boys? Could be anywhere.