“Thanks,” I said, my mother’s politeness training apparently still in place. My voice was flat, though.
“I was just telling my dad about you,” Oliver said.
“Yes, um, Oliver said that you and he have become close friends again. I’m so happy to hear that.” Now Keith was the one fiddling with his coffee mug. His hands were shaking just like Oliver’s had the night before. Oliver was watching him and I pressed my leg against his, feeling the tension in both of us.
“In fact,” Keith continued, “I was just telling Oliver how glad I am that he and his mom are able to be together again.”
“Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. So much for Mom’s politeness training, after all.
“Em,” Oliver started to say, but Keith held up his hand.
“No, no, Colin—Oliver, it’s fine. Oliver, sorry.” Keith waved him off. “It’s all right. Emmy’s right. I, um, I did some things that were pretty terrible.”
“Yes, you did,” Oliver said softly, and I knew him well enough to hear the anger that laced his words. It was the quiet kind, the most dangerous kind of all.
Keith just nodded, glancing out the window and then back down at his coffee. “That’s why I wanted to see you today. I wanted to apologize, say I’m sorry. I know we didn’t get a chance to talk about it.”
Oliver sat back against the booth, then ran a hand over his face before hunching back over himself. “Why?” he said. “Why? Just tell me why you did this. Because I swear I’m trying to understand, Dad. I’m trying so hard to make sense of this and I can’t figure it out.”
Keith’s mouth wobbled a little and his eyes got even more watery. “I can’t explain it.” He shrugged. “When your mom and I, when we were divorcing, I was drinking a lot—”
“That’s what Mom said,” Oliver murmured.
“Yeah, well, your mom is right. And I knew she was trying to get sole custody because of that. Which she was right to do, by the way. I wasn’t a very suitable dad back then.”
“You were a good dad,” Oliver said.
“Well, not at that point. But that weekend . . .” Keith’s mouth trembled again and I felt cold just thinking about it, Oliver being spirited away to Chicago, lost and confused, while the rest of us searched for him in vain. “That weekend, you were sleeping at my house and you looked so little in my bed. You were a small fry. Remember how I used to call you that? ‘Small-fry guy’?”
Oliver nodded, his jaw tightening.
“You just looked so small and I just couldn’t imagine not being able to see you anymore. I didn’t think I would survive it. You had these little teeth and tiny hands and you would wear that Little League uniform from your T-ball team, remember? You would wear it everywhere.”
“Mom still has it,” Oliver whispered. “She saved it. She saved everything.”
Keith’s eyes spilled over at that. “Good. I’m glad she does.” He sniffled loudly and wiped his palm across his cheeks, trying to pull it together. “But I just kept thinking that I couldn’t bear to not see you grow up. And I panicked. That’s all. I made a decision and by the time I realized what I had done, I realized that it was too late. If I took you back, I’d never see you again.”
“But you told me that Mom didn’t want us,” Oliver said, and I had never heard such quiet fury before. His hands were clenched together under the table like he was holding himself back, and I sat very still and didn’t say a word. I had this feeling that I had stumbled onto the stage of a play and didn’t know who I was or what I was supposed to say. I wished I had stayed in the car, that I had just watched from the window or waited outside the restaurant instead. This was a private conversation and I was sitting right in the middle of it.
“I know,” Keith said. “I know I said that about Mom. And I’m so sorry, Oliver. I didn’t . . . I made many terrible choices and I tried to give you the best life I could, but I couldn’t undo some of those things. I’m sorry. That’s all I can say.” He wiped at his eyes again. “I was selfish. I’m sorry. I tried to make it up to you.”
Oliver’s eyes were overflowing now, and I carefully reached under the table and took one of his hands in mine, unknotting his fist before running my fingers over his palm. His pulse was pure staccato, tripping over itself. “All those nights, though, when I kept asking for Mom, though? When I would wake up crying for her?” Oliver shook his head and laughed through the tears. “I can’t believe you would just let me hurt like that.”
“I can’t believe I would, either,” Keith murmured. “I just loved you so much.”
“Love isn’t something you say,” Oliver snapped. “It’s something you do. God, I hate you so much for doing this. And it’s, like, at the same time, I’m so glad to see you. This is so fucked up, I can’t . . .” He trailed off, wiping his eyes before looking back out the window.
Keith was quiet for a minute. “Oliver,” he finally said. “I’m sorry I left you in the apartment that day.”
Oliver’s head whipped back around, his eyes wide.
“It’s okay,” Keith continued. “You knew what you were doing that day on the field trip. I know. And I’m not upset or mad or anything like that. I understand. I couldn’t keep this from you forever. And it’s all right. I just panicked, that’s all.” Keith chuckled to himself, but it sounded more sad than funny. “Your old man’s kind of a screwup.”