Chapter 8
Ethan’s father was named Robert Park.
I met him two days later.
I disliked him immediately.
Not because he wanted to see his son.
Because he acted like Ethan already belonged to him.
He arrived at Mrs. Park’s apartment with a lawyer.
Dad was there.
Luke was there too.
Not as muscle.
Although Robert definitely noticed him.
Mrs. Park had found legal aid through a veterans’ family organization Luke knew.
Ethan sat beside me.
His knee bounced constantly.
Robert smiled at him.
“Son.”
Ethan did not answer.
“I’ve missed you.”
Ethan whispered, “You know my phone number.”
Robert’s smile disappeared for half a second.
“I wanted to give your mother space.”
Mrs. Park laughed bitterly.
“Four years of space?”
The lawyer interrupted.
“We’re here to discuss visitation.”
Dad said, “Then discuss it.”
Robert looked at him.
“And you are?”
“A friend.”
Robert glanced at Luke.
“And him?”
Luke smiled.
“Another friend.”
Robert suddenly became very polite.
I almost laughed.
The truth came out slowly.
Robert had moved to California when Ethan was eight.
He rarely called.
Paid inconsistent support.
Then he saw local news about Maple Ridge.
He learned Mrs. Park was involved in a possible civil case against the district.
Money.
That was why he came back.
At least that was what Ethan believed.
Mrs. Park’s attorney believed it too.
Robert denied it.
“I want my son.”
Ethan flinched at the word want.
Like he was an object.
Mrs. Park said, “He has a life here.”
“With the woman who failed to protect him?”
Ethan stood.
“My mom didn’t fail me!”
Everyone went quiet.
Robert looked at him.
“Ethan.”
“No.”
His voice shook.
“She complained.”
“She kept you in that school.”
“Because we couldn’t afford to move!”
Mrs. Park covered her mouth.
Ethan continued.
“You weren’t here.”
Robert’s expression hardened.
“I was working.”
“So was Mom!”
“You don’t understand adult decisions.”
Ethan’s face changed.
I knew that look.
Adults used that sentence when they wanted children silent.
I stood beside him.
Dad touched my shoulder.
Not stopping me.
Just reminding me he was there.
Ethan said:
“You left.”
Robert stared at him.
“And now you want me because you think Mom might get money.”
His lawyer shifted uncomfortably.
Robert’s face reddened.
“That is something your mother put in your head.”
“No.”
Ethan shook his head.
“I figured it out.”
The meeting ended badly.
But it ended.
The custody request went to court.
Ethan was terrified.
I helped the only way I knew how.
I listened.
I did not tell him everything would be fine.
Luke taught me not to promise things I could not control.
Instead, I said:
“Whatever happens, you tell the truth.”
He nodded.
“That worked for you?”
“Eventually.”
The district case ended before the custody hearing.
Families received a settlement.
Not huge amounts.
Enough for counseling costs and stolen money.
More importantly, the district publicly admitted complaints had been mishandled.
Mrs. Alvarez became permanent principal.
New anti-bullying procedures were adopted across the district.
Mr. Holloway lost his educator license.
Caleb sent me another message.
He had started counseling.
His exact words were:
Turns out being terrifying is not a personality.
I laughed for ten minutes.
I replied:
Progress.
He sent:
Still sorry.
I wrote:
I know.
That was as close to forgiveness as we had gotten.
Maybe that was enough.
At home, Mom and Dad started having coffee.
Then dinner.
Then walks.
They did not tell me much.
I pretended not to care.
I cared enormously.
One night, Mom stayed late helping me with an English project.
Dad made popcorn.
For three hours, our house sounded exactly like it did before everything fell apart.
I almost panicked.
Mom noticed.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
Then shook my head.
“I don’t want this to disappear.”
Dad stopped.
Mom’s eyes filled.
I hated how childish I sounded.
But I said it anyway.
“I don’t want to wake up and you’re gone again.”
Mom came closer.
“Can I hug you?”
I nodded.
She held me.
“I can’t change what I did.”
“I know.”
“But I can tell you where I’m going.”
I looked at her.
“I can answer when I’m struggling.”
Dad added, “And I can tell you when something changes instead of trying to protect you from every hard conversation.”
I looked between them.
“So are you getting back together?”
Both laughed.
“Leo,” Dad said.
“What?”
Mom smiled.
“We’re trying.”
“That means yes.”
“It means trying.”
“Adults are exhausting.”
Dad handed me popcorn.
“Correct.”
The custody hearing happened in June.
Ethan spoke privately with the judge.
Robert received supervised visitation at first.
Not custody.
Mrs. Park remained the primary parent.
Outside the courthouse, Ethan hugged his mom.
Then he hugged me.
“I thought he could just take me.”
“He couldn’t.”
“I know now.”
Luke stood nearby.
“No one owns you, kid.”
Ethan nodded.
Robert came outside.
For a moment, I thought he would start another argument.
Instead, he stopped in front of Ethan.
“I handled this badly.”
Ethan said nothing.
Robert continued.
“I do want to know you.”
Ethan looked at his mother.
She nodded slightly.
Then he told his dad:
“You have to earn it.”
I nearly smiled.
Trust and forgiveness.
Different things.
Apparently Luke was infecting all of us.
Summer came.
I flew alone again.
This time to visit my aunt in Denver.
Same airport.
Same airline.
Dad hugged me three times.
Mom hugged me four.
“You both need help.”
Dad checked my boarding pass.
“Gate 22.”
“I know.”
Mom said, “Do not miss the flight.”
I looked at her.
“What if somebody needs help?”
She sighed.
“Get an airport employee.”
Dad pointed at her.
“Finally, sensible parenting.”
I laughed.
At security, I turned.
They stood together.
Not touching.
Then Dad reached for Mom’s hand.
She looked at him.
He did not let go.
Something warm spread through my chest.
I waved.
They waved back.
At the gate, I checked my backpack.
Luke’s coin.
His note.
Mom’s framed picture was too big, obviously.
But I kept a photograph of it on my phone.
The boarding announcement started.
I stood.
Then I noticed an elderly woman struggling with her suitcase.
I froze.
Not again.
I walked over.
“Ma’am, do you need help?”
She smiled.
“Could you lift this onto the chair?”
I did.
Then I returned to my gate.
On time.
Growth.
When I landed in Denver, Dad had sent a message.
PROUD OF YOU FOR ACTUALLY BOARDING.
Mom added:
The bar is so low.
I laughed.
Then a third message arrived.
From Luke.
Turn on the news.
I did.
My stomach dropped.
A helicopter had gone down during a Navy training exercise off the California coast.
Several personnel were missing.
Luke had returned to limited training duty two months earlier.
I called him.
No answer.
Then I called Danny.
He answered on the fourth ring.
His voice sounded broken.
“Leo.”
I stopped breathing.
“Where’s Luke?”
Silence.
May you like
“Danny?”
“They haven’t found him yet.”
