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I feel a flood of relief. “It’s a good place, and hopefully it’ll give him a new purpose. Turn things around for him.”
Philip nods. Then he looks away out of the window. “Do you ever think of Dad?”
I blink. I made the decision not to tell him what I discovered about our father from Rawiri because I didn’t think he’d be able to handle the news that Dad was still alive. It was bad enough to think that he died in an accident; it would destroy Philip to learn that the abandonment was purposeful.
“Sometimes,” I reply.
“I’ve always wished he hadn’t died. But I know if he hadn’t, things wouldn’t have been much better.” His gaze came back to me. “Do you remember what he was like? The arguments? The beatings?”
“Yeah. I know it was worse for you.”
He shrugs. Then he says, “I don’t want to be like him.” He meets my eyes, then drops his gaze guiltily. He knows he’s already walked in our father’s shoes for far too long. Anger flares inside me at the thought of what his kids have had to go through.
But I clamp down on it. This isn’t the time to berate or condemn him. Recognizing the problem is half the battle, right?
“That’s good,” I say roughly. “And this is the first step, right? To do the best you can for your boy.”
He nods and swallows.
“All right.” I clap him on the shoulder. “I’m going to go up and see him.”
I make my way up the stairs, go along the landing to Rangi’s door, and knock on it. He doesn’t reply. I wait for a bit, knock again, then turn the handle and go in.
He’s lying on his bed, on his back, his headphones on, staring up at the ceiling. He’s not crying, but he looks so miserable it breaks my heart. He glances over, though, and when he sees me he takes off his headphones and sits up.
“Hey, bro,” I say softly.
“Henry,” he says, and his bottom lip trembles.
“Hey.” I sit on the bed next to him. To my surprise, he moves over to hug me and starts crying.
“Ah, it’s okay.” I hold him tightly and rub his back. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
We sit there like that for a while. It rains for a bit, hammering against the window, and then the sun comes out—four seasons in one day, typical Kiwi weather. Eventually he stops crying, and I pick up the toilet roll someone’s conveniently left on the bedside table and peel off a bit for him to blow his nose.
While he’s composing himself, I look around. It still looks like the room of an eleven-year-old, with LEGO models, old posters on the walls, and a box of toys against the wall that are far too young for him. It reminds me of the boy who used to love skateboarding, and who used to watch Shrek with me.
But he’s not eleven anymore. He’s sixteen, old enough to have consenting sex and get married, to hold a learner driver license, to leave school, and to be paid the minimum wage.
“I’m sorry you’ve been going through a difficult time,” I tell him.
He moves back against the pillows. “They won’t let me see Ellie anymore.”
“I know.”
“I love her,” he says. “They think we don’t know what love is because we’re young, but we do.”
I nod. “I know. I can see how you feel about her. And I’m sorry you can’t be with her right now. Maybe in the future, after she turns sixteen, you might be able to start dating her again.”
“I don’t think her parents will let her,” he says doubtfully.
No doubt Philip and her folks will kill me for saying this, but I reply, “There’s not much they can do about it when you’re both sixteen and old enough to leave home.”
He heaves a big sigh. “I wish I was older. I’d buy her a house so we can be together. But I’ve got no job, nowhere to go. Nothing to give her.”
“You’ve got lots to give her. You’re a decent guy, and you’re loving and affectionate. That’s more than a lot of men have to offer.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Look, what you need is a way to break the cycle. You need an education, a job, money, and prospects. And that’s where I think I can help. I’ve spoken to your dad, and he’s agreed that if you want, you can go to Greenfield.”
He stares at me, his jaw dropping. “Seriously?”
