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“Maybe it’s because you answer every question with another question.”
“Maybe I don’t like to talk about my past.”
“Maybe that’s your problem.”
“I have a problem? Didn’t realize. Good thing you’re here to tell me.”
“Yeah, good thing. Otherwise you might not have anyone in your life with enough balls to tell you what a hypocrite you’re being.”
His arms cross over his chest and I know I’ve struck a nerve. “How am I a hypocrite?”
“You want me to open up to you about all my problems, yet you snap at me whenever I ask something about you. You help all these people who come in here and make them bare their souls to you, but God forbid you do the same. Maybe you’re the one who needs a good training session. Practice what you preach.”
TJ’s jaw works under his skin. He’s quiet and I lose all hope of getting a response … until he speaks. “You’re right.”
“Really?” I clear my throat. “I mean, yes. Of course I am.”
“What do you want to know?”
“We don’t have to do this right now.”
“Come on. Now’s your chance.” He lowers himself to the floor and sits, patting the space next to him.
“Fine.” I sit facing him. “Who’s trying to contact you from jail?”
“My dad.”
“What does he want?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“You aren’t curious?”
“There’s nothing he could say that I’d want to hear.”
“What did he do … to get put in prison?”
He lets out a long exhale. “He committed second-degree murder.”
Wow. Wasn’t expecting that. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“The day the police took him away in handcuffs. Twelve years ago.”
“Has he tried to reach out to you before?”
“No.”
“So why now, after all this time?”
“Like I said before: Don’t know, don’t care.”
Silence settles between us, though my mind is loud and chaotic.
“Feel better now?” he asks.
“Not exactly, no. But this isn’t about making me feel better. This is about you. You’re so closed off. Your dad committed a crime, yet you’re the one who’s acting like you’re locked up because of it. It’s not right.”
“You don’t know what my life has been like.”
