Page 131 of The Prodigal Son

“I don’t think your mom is too happy with me, though,” he stammers uncomfortably.

“I don’t care,” I say with conviction.

“It’s your mom, Jensen.”

“I know, but…she and I have some things we need to work out on our own. I’m starting to realize that maybe she never wanted what was best for me. I just keep making excuses for her.”

He nods in contemplation. “Well, I wish I had a dad like that growing up.”

“I wish you did too,” I say, taking his hand in mine.

After a few minutes, he kicks off his boots and crawls back into bed with me.

“When do you have to go back?” I ask as I stroke his hair.

“I have a show in Charleston in two days,” he replies. “I’m supposed to be at dress rehearsal tomorrow.”

“I want you to go,” I say as I press my lips to his forehead.

“I don’t know if I can.” His voice is quiet, and he sounds so young. Sometimes I forget that he’s only twenty-eight. He’s been through so much in his short years. When he was forced to run away and be on his own at only seventeen, he was forced to grow up, but in a way, he preserved his youth at the same time. He will forever have that scared teenage boy inside him to protect.

“Of course you can,” I reply. “You got this far on your own, Isaac. This is your moment. Don’t let me or anyone else ruin that for you.”

“Will I be able to talk to you while I’m gone?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But if you need me, you’ll find a way to tell me, right?” he asks with a quiver in his voice.

“I promise.”

“I have two more months of this tour,” he says. “Our last stop is back here. Then I’ll be here, waiting for you, for as long as you need.”

I wince. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone or even where I’ll go at this point. It’s not something I can rush. Eight weeks feels so long, but if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. Eight weeks for the rest of my life.

More if I need it.

“Play my song, baby,” I reply, kissing his forehead.

“I will,” he whispers. “I’ll play it every night.”

I don’t know how much longer it is until I drift off to sleep, but when I wake again, he’s gone. My dad is back, alone. They keep me in the psych unit for another two days for evaluation. The psychiatrist works with my dad to get me signed up for a treatment center called Pathways.

On my last day in the hospital, my dad brings me clothes, and I sit across from him at a small table in the cafeteria. He looks terrified, and honestly, I feel terrified. Whatever these next two months bring, I know they won’t be easy. I know it’s going to hurt, but I need to do it.

“Your mother is staying with her sister for a while,” he says after clearing his throat. And that’s all he says. I nod my head in understanding. I don’t ask any more questions because I don’t know if I can.

Moments later, the nurse comes to tell me that the car is here to take me. My father looks across the table at me with desperation in his eyes. Desperation to make things right. Desperation to save his son’s life.

With shaking hands, I wrap my arms around him for a tight hug. Then, I follow the nurse as she leads me out the door and into the car. No matter what the next phase of my life brings, I’m ready for it. Forhim. Forus.Forme.

Thirty-Nine

Isaac

“I’ll be on a plane first thing tomorrow morning,” I mumble groggily into the phone.

“Are you sure?” Lola asks with concern. “You’ve been through a lot, Isaac.”

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