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“Then why don’t you want to see us?” He sounded like a damn child, asking that question. But he had to know. Had to see how his father would react.
His head dropped and he rubbed his forehead. Galen got the impression it was a gesture designed for invisible cameras. “That’s a tough one. Thing is, I got some therapy after I got out. He helped me see that I deserve to be happy. He helped me forgive myself.”
“Forgive yourself?” Galen felt cold all over. That sick feeling in his stomach was still there.
“Yeah. I deserve a life. I was never really happy with Trish. Your mother,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “We had what you’d call a toxic relationship. Sid and Nancy vibe. I didn’t want to get tangled up with her again. I’m focused on me now, and that’s all I can handle. Gotta have boundaries.”
It was like a looking glass world version of therapy that left out the three children he’d brought into the world, and it confused Galen even more.
With a smile, Marshall reached forward to squeeze his arm, as if they were on the same team. Then he rose to his feet. “Man, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you found me. I wondered if I’d see you again. I even practiced what I’d say. Want to hear?”
Galen got to his feet as well. His mouth felt as if it was full of marbles. He had more questions. No, he had things he wanted to say. But it was all a jumble of chaos inside him and none of it came out in words.
Marshall cleared his throat. “Here it is. Galen, my son, I hope you can forgive me for being a teenage father with no decent role models.”
Just like Thomas, Galen thought. He’d been a teenage father, too. But Thomas had fought hard to raise Danny. He never would have disappeared on him.
“I hope you can forgive me for the terrible choices I made,” Marshall continued. “The drugs, the fighting, the small-time criminality. I take responsibility.”
He paused, as if waiting for Galen’s reaction. He had none.
“How was that?” he prompted.
“That’s it?”
“Well, when I workshopped it in acting class, they said less is more.”
Less was also easier, Galen thought. And what the fuck, acting class?
“Do you forgive me?” Marshall prodded. “It’s for your sake more than mine. Forgiveness takes a big load off your soul. I felt so much lighter after I forgave myself and moved on.”
Lighter? Lighter?
And it hit him. Marshall Cooper was a selfish, narcissistic man who really only cared about himself. He’d allowed his eleven-year-old son to twist in the wind, eating his heart out with worry.
Galen felt as if he was outside of his body, watching what happened next. There went his fist. It thrust through the air. His fist went directly toward his father’s nose. Which, he saw at the very last second, was new. A nose job. How much did those cost? Too late now. Bam.
twenty-four
At the LA County Jail, Brenda handed over the paperwork she’d been given at the bail bond office. The bondsman had told her they wouldn’t hold him more than a night anyway, since it was a simple assault case, and it wasn’t clear yet if the victim was going to press charges. But she refused to let Galen spend even a single night in jail. She knew what inside spaces were like for him.
As soon as she’d gotten the call from Marshall Cooper, she’d driven to the airport and hopped on the next flight. It was now past midnight, and she could only imagine that Galen must be going out of his mind.
“I’d bail him out, but I don’t have the liquidity,” Marshall had told her, after introducing himself. “Besides, it’s better for me not to be in contact with the legal system.”
“How’d you get my number?”
“From Galen’s phone. He lost it in the chaos after he attacked me. I managed to grab it before the cops showed up. You were the last person he texted. They confiscated his phone, but I memorized your number. Make sure you get it back when you bail him out. He needs someone in his corner. But it can’t be me.”
He didn’t say anything more about the incident, and she didn’t ask any more questions. She’d skipped to her travel app and booked a ticket.
After she handed in the paperwork, it took about an hour until the bureaucratic wheels turned enough for Galen to be released. In the meantime, she called the lawyer that her father had located. As she jotted down notes, she caught glimpses of him on the other side of the buzz-in door. Getting his backpack, listening to a guard and nodding, taking a swig from his water bottle.
Then the door buzzed and he pushed through. After one look at his bruised face, she flew into his arms like a swallow into its nest. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
With his arms tight around her, she felt him nod, then shake his head, but wasn’t entirely sure which questions he was answering.
She tilted her head to look up at him. One of his eye sockets was turning a deep purple. His nose looked swollen, and a Band-Aid covered a scrape on his cheekbone.
