Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“With another on the way,” he happily informed Lang. “Where’s your mother? I need to tell—there she is. I’ll be right back, Duke.”
We all watched him cut across the room to reach Etta, and then Lang and I refocused on his father.
“It’s strange to be here and be out of touch with everyone.”
“I’m sure it is, but thank you for stopping by,” Lang said, and I heard the sincerity in his voice. His father must’ve too, as evidenced by his smile. “You don’t necessarily know you need closure until you’re suddenly on the receiving end of it.”
Duke looked like he was about to say something.
“It’s funny,” Lang mused.
Duke stared at his son and then nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Lang exhaled and then gave his father a pat on the arm, the motion completed before he could take hold of his son’s hand.
“You should visit us in New Orleans,” Duke offered, probably thinking, at that moment in time, that he wanted a bridge. It was one of those things people did when acquaintances, estranged family members, or even old friends were standing in front of them. You thought, yes, we’ll reconnect, and it will be great. But it never was.
With my friends from college, it was different. We could go six months, a year without talking, and then someone would remember to pick up the phone, and we’d be right back to the closeness in seconds. Every time it worked like that. But those were specific instances of bedrock friendships forged in time, pain, love, and respect. What Lang was in right now…it was not that.
Lang and his father had nothing in common but blood, and I knew, with my own family that were biologically related to me, that those ties did not bind. People were always telling me—mainly my therapist, Dr. Butler, about my own family trauma—that nothing was ever really over and that relationships of all kinds, especially with family, could always be resurrected. And I always replied with a simple question: why? Why would you want to? What could a relationship like that truly give you?
I remembered Etta telling me that after Duke left her, she had made an appointment to see his parents to speak to them about their medical backgrounds and about any genetic diseases, anomalies that ran in their family. She had two children, so she needed to know about anything that could affect them. So really, Duke couldn’t even help Lang with answers to questions down the road. His mother had already taken care of that.
“That was amazingly thorough of you,” I told her.
“When you become a parent, you have to put them before you in all ways. His parents had always struck me as cold and distant, and I had no desire to see them ever again once their son left me, but I needed answers, so I went there.”
“Impressive.”
“No. Necessary,” she corrected me.
“They didn’t have any stipulations for givin’ you answers?”
She chuckled. “No. Before Duke left, they only saw the kids at Christmas when they came by to drop off gifts. Once he was gone, I never heard from them again.”
“Are they still alive?”
“I don’t know. They moved away years ago, and I didn’t care enough to ask anyone where they’d gone.”
“Because they had nothin’ to do with your family.”
“That’s right,” she said with a sigh, taking hold of my hand like she always did when we were sitting together at the table. “You know, I read somewhere that people who didn’t want to be parents are absent grandparents. I believe that.”
So did I. It translated for me in the way my mother’s family never showed up for me or my brothers. We only had one parent, and luckily, we were all through with him. It was why I had no interest in reaching out to anyone. Ever. And if that meant I was irreparably broken, that was fine with me. Let sleeping dogs lie seemed like the best course.
“And I don’t mean people separated by distance, but those who live right across town like my ex-husband’s did. They had no interest in him, so why would they care about my children? There was never any connection that I could see in that family.”
It made sense to me.
Now, looking at Lang’s profile as he regarded his father, I was fairly certain he felt the same sense of disconnect. What value did Duke bring to the table that the man I loved would either want or need? The time for love and guidance and teachable moments had long since passed. And of course, we could all use more people who loved us, but at the cost of intrusions into our lives or mandatory card sending at Christmas? What was the point? From where I was standing, I didn’t see the purpose of drawing Duke Webster back into Lang’s life, but I was hardly the arbiter of good familial relationships.