Page 21 of Fractured

Hell, I never considered this. That would be all kinds of awkward. “How hungry are you? Want pizza? Or there’s a good Mexican place not far from here?”

“I’m good with anything.”

We decide on Julio’s and drive to the destination in companionable silence. It’s almost too quiet. Trying to break the uncomfortable tension a bit, I attempt small talk. “How was school?”

“Sucked. Thanks for asking. How was work, dear?” he volleys back.

Snickering, I answer honestly. “Wasn’t too bad. My days start early, but I was able to get out on time today, so that’s something.”

He’s quiet for a minute. “I take it you make a shit ton of money if you’re a doctor. What kind of doctor are you anyway?” he asks, playing with the tattered hem of his sweatshirt.

“I’m an orthopedic surgeon. I specialize in sports medicine, mainly shoulders. I always dreamt of working as the team doctor for a football team one day,” I say, shrugging my shoulders a bit.

“So, you operate on people and everything?” he throws back.

“Yeah. It’s not as big a deal as you think. Just takes a lot of training.” Downplaying my job, I need to narrow the divide between us. “You give any more thought to pursuing a career as a firefighter? I have a friend who hangs out with a bunch of firefighters, and he could probably get you a ride-along. You could get first-hand experience seeing what they do.” I put the car in park and look in his direction. When there’s no answer to my question, I decide not to push for now. “You ready?”

Walking into the Mexican restaurant, we’re hit with the smell of spicy chili peppers, banter from the nearby bar, and Mexican singers from the speakers overhead. I walk to the hostess station. “Two, please.”

We’re taken to a booth and given menus as we’re seated. I encourage Gavin to order whatever he likes. When the waiter returns with tortilla chips and salsa for our drink order, the smart-ass says, “I’d like a Margarita, no salt.” As the waiter and I both stare blankly at him in response to his ridiculous request, he states, “What? You said to order whatever I want.”

“He’ll have a coke, and I’ll take a water, thanks.” As the waiter walks away, I continue, “It must be hard work being a top-notch smart-ass twenty-four-seven.”

“Nah, just comes natural.”

Shaking my head at his ludicrous antics, I try to change the subject. “So, do you mind if I ask about your dad?” I tread carefully, hoping not to upset him. Before he can answer, the waiter returns with our drinks and takes our meal orders. Gavin seems to hesitate, and I reassure him he can order whatever he likes and take the rest home.

“Sorry we were interrupted. I was asking about your dad. But you don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t comfortable.”

“Not much to tell. He wasn’t around much, then he died.”

Almost choking on my water with his flippant response, I put down my drink and take in Gavin’s stoic features.

“I still don’t entirely know the score. My mom got knocked up when she was young. She was eighteen or nineteen and waiting tables at a dive where a bunch of college kids hung out. She said the guy really swept her off her feet, but they didn’t date long or anything. Mom said he had a girlfriend. He didn’t find out about me for years.”

I watch as he rips his paper napkin into pieces. “He’d visit once in a while, but he lived in another state. From what I remember, he was an okay guy. Sometimes he brought me stuff, and we’d throw the ball around and shit.”

Sitting quietly, I wait to see if he’ll offer any more detail. I can’t get a read on how he feels about his father. I ponder how old Gavin might’ve been when he died.

Shifting in his seat, he continues. “He didn’t talk about what his life was like when he went back home, and he never took me there. It felt like there was this invisible realm he’d return to that we weren’t a part of. Then he just stopped coming. I asked Mom about it one day, and it seemed like she was just making excuses for him. Then, a week before my tenth birthday, she told me he wasn’t coming back. At first, I thought he just didn’t want to see us anymore, but she said he got sick… a while later, she got a call from a lawyer saying he died.”

My heart squeezed at this revelation. This poor kid. I don’t know what’s worse, losing a parent who has spent their whole life devoted to your upbringing or losing the one you yearn to bond with, knowing that chance is gone. “Gavin, I’m really sorry,” I recall how difficult losing my mother was at sixteen. I cannot imagine dealing with a loss like that at the age of ten.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. It was his loss. I didn’t need him anyway.”

With perfect timing, the server returns with multiple plates of food, placing the sizzling platters before us in dramatic fashion. Grateful for the interruption, I thank the waiter and ask Gavin if he needs another drink.

“Nah, man. This is awesome.” He smiles over his steaming plate.

Deciding an abrupt change in direction is needed, I propose my weekend job offer. “So, my dad lives on several acres. The land backs up to a lake. He has a ton of grass, shrubs, and a garden and could use a hand with it. I was wondering if you’d be interested in a part-time job helping him on weekends when you’re available?” The mouthwatering aroma of the food before us has stolen my attention. I wrap my fajita and bring it to my mouth for a large bite before continuing. “We’d be willing to pay you for your help. He said you could use the riding mower if you promise not to take out his garden with it.”

I watch as his chewing slows long enough to look up at me. “Yeah? Sure. I could do that.” He immediately digs back into his enchiladas.

“I have a soccer game this weekend. Any chance your mom could drop you off, and I could take you to my dad’s after the game?”

“She could probably do that. She only works in the evening on the weekend,” he answers, popping a tortilla chip into his mouth.

“Good. Dad could use the help,” I say, knowing I’m telling a white lie but want to help this kid however I can, and I’m sure he wouldn’t take a handout. “If it turns out my friend Jake can get you a ride-along, and it’s on a weekend, we’ll work around it. I think talking to the guys at the station about what’s needed to apply for the fire academy is important.”

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