Page 75 of Interpreter

Tim: Fine. I want more. I want to make sure she gets to work safely, and I want to be able to take them places.

Dr. Parker: Them?

See what I mean? He’s constantly digging.

Tim: Milah and Oliver.

Dr. Parker: The little boy who is losing his hearing?

We’ve been over this.

Tim: Yes. I know you don’t forget things, so you must have a reason for confirming which child I’m referring to. Just go ahead and say it. We’re almost to the bank.

Dr. Parker: I thought you said you weren’t handing down advice to him or setting an example.

He’s pushing my buttons. Why did I text him?

Tim: I’m not setting an example.

Dr. Parker: Aren’t you? Aren’t you showing him that you can endure adversity and still achieve your goals?

Tim: Okay, session over. See you in two weeks. I gotta go.

Dr. Parker: See you next week.

Dr. Parker: And, Tim, she would be proud of you.

Usually, his proud comment would send me careening into a fit of rage, but today, maybe due to all the nerves, it’s comforting. Like maybe I was looking for someone to tell me it’s okay to do this. That it’s okay to access the account she left for me. To use the money she bled and lived for. Well, Tom, my father, lived for it. She lived for the music. And while I hate the very thought of using it, I know deep down she would kick my ass for waiting all these years—living on the streets because I was angry and bitter that she had handed down a curse and then left me alone. I was there for her, at least as much as I could be. I loved her. Looked up to her. And she left me.

I don’t realize the grip I have on my phone until Theo touches my shoulder. “We’re here.” His face is strained. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

I look at Dr. Parker’s last message and then back at Theo.

She didn’t have an army of loved ones to fight this battle with her.

But…

But I do.

And it’s time I pull my head out of my ass and fight with them.

“Yes.”

One word.

It’s all I need to say for Theo to tip his chin and get out of the car, leading the way through the towering glass doors.

“This is so exciting,” Theo muses, while we pass the rows of various styles of vehicles. “The next thing you know, we’ll be talking about condoms and girls.”

Ignoring Theo and his sarcasm about me asking for his help, I scan the rows of SUVs. I’m looking for something in particular. Something that will possibly fit a car seat. Damn, who would’ve thought I’d ever be choosing a vehicle based on the needs of a child—of a potential future.

From the moment I knew the rouge gene had been passed down, I knew I would be the end of its reign. I wouldn’t let it continue devastating lives. I know most may not agree with my decision. My mother didn’t, but this is my choice—my decision—but getting to know Oliver and the amazing and smart little boy he is, has me feeling things. Things like hope and excitement about seeing him live and grow into a brilliant man.

“Hey, Von Bremen.”

This is a bad idea, but I have no other choice. Theo is the only guy I know that has some knowledge about kids. Anniston would know, but I’m not ready to confide in her just yet. She wouldn’t keep her mouth shut, and before I could finish my sentence, Breck would be shopping and pinning fun lunch ideas for kids. Yeah, I’ll stick with Theo for now.

“Yeah,” Theo answers, reading the stats on a sports car he would never buy. Theo is a classic car guy. I think he’s had the same Mustang since he was a teenager. He’s always having it worked on, and even though Anniston thought he should upgrade, he wouldn’t hear of it. Apparently, it holds some history.

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