Page 62 of Silent Damage

Linda sighs, looking at the food. “It’s just all so raw for Doug. This isn’t my story to tell, but he had a horrible relationship with your granddad. Did you know him?”

“No. I never met him.”

“See? Your dad talks about wanting to be better, but when he’s with you, something else takes over. Anger. Hurt. It’s all there, and he takes it out on you because that’s what happened to him.”

“Is that supposed to make me sympathize with him?” I ask.

“No,” she says.

“If he knows how bad it feels, why would he do it to me? Because I’d never do that to my kid. Ever.”

Linda looks down with a sad expression. “That’s because you're a stronger man than he is.”

For the first time in my life, my big mouth has nothing to say. All I can do is breathe into the queasy feeling in the pit of my gut.

The screech of the screen door grabs our attention, and Gabe walks in. Bruised and battered like me.

But not as bad as me.

Because I always go easy on Gabe.

Wow—that’s the first time I admitted that.

We stare at each other. Two guys just seething but also completely fucking lost.

“Your mom made stew,” I finally blurt out.

Linda motions to the plate. “Sit and eat, honey.”

Gabe looks at the food, then at the scene before him.

His expression softens.

I know he sees exactly what I saw in my mind’s eye. The memories of who we were to each other.

Our eyes meet once more, and I motion for him to sit.

And he does.

Linda stays because I think she can see we need a third person to ease the tension. She blabbers away, making small talk that I know she doesn’t give a shit about.

But I can see in her eyes how happy she is that we’re both sitting at the table eating together.

It’s hard to look at Gabe, but I do every once in a while.

There are no words to describe what is happening inside me. My chest aches, and my limbs itch. I want to reach across the table and grab his hand, but I’m also afraid it’ll hurt when I do.

He looks up from his food. He’s not happy, but he’s open.

I’m not angry right now. I can’t be.

This feels really good, and I just want to feel that instead of everything else that’s constantly raging inside me.

And I think Gabe does too.

Gabe

It’s late, and I sit on my bed sketching Jason sitting on the couch. I have the perfect view of him from where I am. The lamp light hits the side of his face in a way that catches his sharp cheekbones, and his tattoos look even more pronounced on his illuminated skin.