Page 78 of Here & There

He nods, his lips twitching at the curse word.

“It feels good to be a hero,” I say.

The words pass through my mouth before I realize what I said. That’s a lie. I’ve hated being a hero. Because I never felt like I actually was one. I was an imposter. But when I look at my son, his eyes are on me. There’s still trepidation there, but something else, too. Is it hope?

I look down, my blood rushing in my ears. When Shelby looked at me in that office, asked me what I wanted Nate to see, it was me handling things in a way he could be proud of.

Nate could be a hero.

Mark’s hands grip his thighs. He’s got tape around his wrist.

So could Mark, if he had some good role models. So could any kid on this bus, with the right kind of encouragement.

“You play rugby?” I ask.

Mark nods.

“I played it in high school.” We talk positions for a bit. Then I ask him if he works out. How much he benches. “You know my son Nate over here? He benched 180 this weekend.”

Mark’s eyebrow goes up.

“He’s fast as hell, too.” I tell him about the sprints we did on the machine at the gym. “I think he’ll hit his stride next year. Probably be as big as me, huh, Nate?”

Nate’s eyes are bugged out, but he manages to shrink them back into his sockets to say, “I guess.”

“He’ll be better looking than me too. Just watch. Then when he works at the pub for his summer job, he’ll be dating all the?—”

“Mac!” Nate says.

Sporadic laughs come out around us, but Nate smiles too. Someone pats him on the shoulder.

While the others joke around, I lean into Mark. “You’re bigger than the other kids,” I say so only he can hear. “They’re going to look up to you. It’s kind of a big responsibility since once you start looking out for people, they’re going to come ask you for help. But it feels good too. I can’t wait to hear about what you do, man. I’ll be paying attention.”

It’s something my dad used to do—offer a soft warning hidden in encouraging words. I’m telling Mark I’m paying attention now. But it’s also true. If this kid can come out better than his uncle, the world—this town—will be a better place.

Half an hour later, while the kids are in stitches over a rugby story Nate reminds me about that involves a black bear that came onto the field and made off with the ball, the bus pulls over. It’s our stop.

When Nate and I step onto the road, Shelby’s there, holding Tink’s leash. She looks concerned. But as the kids wave from the window, Mark most vigorously, her jaw falls open slightly.

I like it when her mouth falls open like that.

“I know you would never have hurt a kid,” she says, her voice low as Nate walks ahead of us with Tink, “but what was that?”

As I tell her, she lights up. Nate joins in too.

I’m not foolish enough to think I magically solved the problem in one afternoon, but I do know that she helped me remember that I might have it in me to be the kind of father Nate deserves.

Chapter 19

Shelby

There’s an older man standing in the doorway of the Rusty Dinghy’s kitchen, wringing his chapped hands, staring at me from where I sit in one of the booths on the far wall. Every time I look up and smile, he darts off like a scared animal.

Yesterday, Lana told me about Mac’s dishwasher. “Chip doesn’t talk much; doesn’t read, for that matter. But he’s probably the sweetest man you’ll ever meet.”

“Hard to beat Mac,” I said. I immediately worried this was too intimate. But I’d been thinking about how the day before, Mac came home saying Nate’s former bully had come by the bar that evening for dinner with his mom. He and Nate had gone out for ice cream after. He came home and told me all about it, looking the happiest I’d ever seen him.

But Lana had nodded. “Okay, fine. My boss is pretty great under that crusty exterior. Just don’t tell him I agreed with you.”

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