Page 111 of A Wish for Us

“It went that way for months, until she found me with the drugs.” His face contorted, and his voice lost strength. “She begged me to stop, but I didn’t. I believed at the time I couldn’t, because of the music. But I was selfish. And it has been the biggest regret of my life.” He finally met my eyes. “Until I found out about you.”

“You left her pregnant?” I asked, the black, simmering anger I was feeling showing in my voice.

“I didn’t know she was pregnant at first,” he said. “I was an addict, Cromwell. And your mama did what was best for you both at the time. And that was not having me in your life.” Lewis ran his hand down his face. He looked exhausted. “I found out she was carrying you when she was six months along.”

“And?”

He met me square-on, let me see the shame in his eyes. “Nothing. I did nothing, Cromwell.” He blew out a shaky breath. “It was the biggest mistake of my life.” He leaned forward, and his gaze became lost on the stage. “My life was the music. It was all I had. Made myself believe it was all I had. Later, I heard your mama had met someone, a British Army officer, when she was pregnant. He’d been stationed over here in the States.”

I tensed. This was the bit that involved my dad.

“I found out she had moved to England to be with him. That they’d married…and that you’d been born. A boy.” He looked at me. “A son.” Hisvoice cracked, and I saw the tears brimming in his eyes. “It killed me at the time, but like I did with everything else, I drowned the feeling in liquor and drugs.” He sat back in his seat. “I toured the world, playing packed-out theaters and creating some of the best music of my life.” He sighed. “I blocked it all out. Hardly ever went home.”

He clasped his hands together. “Until one day I did, to see a pile of letters. Letters from England.” My stomach flipped. “They were from your dad, Cromwell.” I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. I pictured my dad, and all I could see was royal blue. I saw his smile and felt how it was to be around him. How he’d always made everything so much better. How he’d always prided himself on doing the right thing. He was the best of men.

“They were letters from him, telling me all about you.” A tear fell down his cheek. “And there were pictures. Pictures of you…” The lump in my throat grew thicker and my vision blurred. Lewis shook his head. “I stared at those pictures for so long that my eyes were strained. You, Cromwell. My little boy, with my coloring, my black hair.”

My heart slammed against my chest. “I fought for years to get sober after that. It was a battle I didn’t get a hold of until you were a lot older.” He went quiet. “I lived for those letters. I lived for those pictures. They became the only real thing in my life…and then, one day, a new letter came. One that had a video inside.” Lewis shook his head. “I’ve lost count of how many times I watched that video.”

“What was on it?” I asked, voice graveled.

“You.” Lewis wiped a fallen tear from his cheek. “You playing the piano. Your father’s letter told me that you’d never had lessons. But that you could just play.” His eyes became lost to his memories. “I watched you play, your hands so skillful…and the smile on your face and the light in your eyes, and I felt like I’d been hit by a ten-ton truck. Because, there, on that screen, was my son…a music lover just like me.”

I turned my head away. I didn’t know if I could hear this. “Your father told me of the synesthesia. He knew of my tour to Britain, to the Albert Hall, and asked me something I never thought would happen. He asked me to meet you. To help you…he thought I should know you. Because of how special you were.” My head fell forward. My dad had been special too. He’dloved me so much. I wished I’d told him how much I loved him when he was here.

“He knew you had synesthesia too. He knew you’d be able to help me.” My heart squeezed as I thought of the pride my father would have had to swallow to ask Lewis, the father who didn’t want me, for help. But he’d done it.

He’d done it for me.

A tear tracked down my cheek.

“That night,” Lewis said, his voice trembling, “I’d been sober for a few years…” He looked at me. It was the first time I’d really looked at him. And I saw myself in his face. I saw the similarities and the shared features. “When I saw you…my son, standing there in front of me, your mama so gracious in letting me meet you after everything I’d done…I went home that night and overdosed so badly that I woke up in the hospital with a permanently damaged liver.”

My eyes widened. Lewis’s tears were free-falling now. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take all of this. “Seeing you showed me how much I’d messed up. And my son, who was more talented than I would ever be, didn’t know me. Called someone else Dad.” He wiped his face with his hand. “It destroyed me. And from that moment on, I made myself a promise. That I would do anything I could to help you…” Lewis trailed off, and I knew what happened next. “Cromwell, when I learned of your father…”

“Don’t,” I said, unable to hear it.

Lewis nodded, and the silence hung heavily between us. “I’ve never met a more honorable man in my life. Your father…” I choked on the lump. “He loved you more than anything in this world. And because of that, he allowed me glimpses into your life—something I didn’t deserve. Still don’t.”

I dropped my head, and the teardrops from my eyes crashed to the floor. “He should be here right now,” I choked out. “Seeing this. Me, tomorrow.”

I felt a hand on my back. I tensed. I almost told him to move it, to fuck off, but I didn’t. After everything—after Dad, and Bonnie, and Easton—I just let it happen. I needed it. I needed to know I wasn’t on my own. I let it all out. On the theater floor where tomorrow I would conduct, I let everything that had been caged up inside me for so long loose.

When my eyes were swollen and my throat was dry, I lifted my head.Lewis kept his hand where it was. “I have no right to ask anything of you, Cromwell. And I’ll understand if you never want more from me than my help over these past weeks.” I met his eyes and saw the desperation there. “I’m not a good man like your father. And I could never fill his shoes. But if you ever want me, or need me, or would be gracious enough to let me into your life, even just a little bit…” He trailed off, and I knew he was struggling to finish. “Then…that would be the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”

As I looked at Lewis, I realized I was tired. I was tired of letting everything get to me. Of carrying all the sadness in my heart and the anger in my gut. I thought of Bonnie and of Easton, and of everything they’d gone through. Of how Easton hadn’t been able to cope. I didn’t want that for my life. I’d spent three years choking on the anger and sadness…the regret of my last words to my dad, and I didn’t want to go there again. Bonnie had shown me a new way to be. And I refused to go back.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know how much I can give you.” It was the truth. Lewis looked like I’d struck him, but he nodded his head. He went to get up. “But I can…try,” I said, and I felt a new kind of lightness settle in my chest.

Lewis looked back at me and took a quick inhale. Tears built in his eyes. “Thank you, son.” He started to walk away.

Son.

Son…

“Thank you,” I said as he approached the exit. Lewis turned around, frowning. “For everything you’ve done, these past months. I…I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I did nothing, son. This was all you. And tomorrow night, it’ll be all you again.”

---