Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“That’s my woodworking.”
“Good. Continue with that, but if you can find anything else to do just for you, something that makes you feel good, do that too.”
We wrap up the session, and then I head out. It’s still early in the day since I moved to a morning appointment. If I ever find a job, that might have to change. I think about that the whole way back to Birchbark. I have money saved, but it won’t last forever. Plus, I’m not the kind of man who can sit around all the time. I need to figure out what the hell to do with my life.
When I get back home, I go straight to my shop to work on my latest project. I’ve decided that one of my spare rooms needs built-in shelves. If I ever decide to sell my house, anything I can do like that will increase the value. I’ve already done all the measuring and picked up the wood, so today I’ll get started building the unit.
I put my goggles on, get the saw set up, and begin cutting the pieces. This is the only time where my brain turns off, where I can forget about everything else and just lose myself in it. Normally, my brain is always running—things I need to do, my brothers, my father. Even though I don’t talk to the motherfucker anymore, he still takes up too much space in my brain. The truth is, despite everything he’s done, I feel guilty for not talking to him, for not being there to take care of him. He had a stroke, and I’m his son, and—no.
I shake my head, trying not to let those thoughts interfere with my project. Usually it’s easier than this.
“Tag! You’re it!” I hear Morgan tell Mom. I look out the window and see them running around in the yard. The bottoms of my feet itch with the desire to run outside and join them, but then I look at the books on the table in front of me and immediately feel stupid for wanting to be out there when I have responsibilities to take care of.
I got a B…a B on my last test. I’m taking advanced classes, but I should still be able to do better than that. If Dad finds out, he’ll be so disappointed in me. That’s the worst feeling in the world. Making him proud makes me feel like I’m something, makes me feel invincible and like one day I could really be just like him.
I get back to my studying, but every few minutes, I can’t stop myself from looking up, staring at Mom and Morgan through the open window, hearing them laugh. Seeing them roll in the grass, having fun.
“You’re daydreaming when you should be studying.”
I immediately sit up straighter at the sound of Dad’s voice behind me, my spine stiff.
“I’m sorry. I was just…” Watching Morgan and Mom play. Wishing I could be out there with them. “I was daydreaming when I should be studying,” I say because it’s true. I’m the one Dad counts on. I’m the one who is going to follow in his footsteps. I’m going to be the one to make him proud, and using an excuse won’t help with that.
Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Good man,” he says, and I have to bite back my smile, but I feel it in my chest. Feel…important. Feel wanted.
“I’m doing my best to make you proud. I promise!”
“Get back to studying. If you want to make me proud, you have to work hard. It won’t be easy. Do you think you can do it?”
Does that mean he doesn’t think I can do it? “I can,” I tell him.
“I’m counting on you, Rhett. You want to be the one I can count on, don’t you? Morgan can do it if—”
“I can do it,” I cut him off.
I expect him to call me on it, but he doesn’t. “That’s what I want to hear.”
Without another word, he leaves.
Ignoring Mom and Morgan outside, I get to work. I don’t know how much time passes before the door opens and Mom comes in.
“Rhett, it’s the weekend. Put your books away and come out to play with us. We’re going to have a picnic. We should enjoy the weather before it gets too cold.”
“I don’t want to. I’m busy.”
“Come on.” She leans over and kisses my temple. “It’ll be fun. You can choose one of your favorite games.”
“I don’t want to play.” Really, I do want to play, just know I shouldn’t. I’m sure Mom would have more fun with just Morgan anyway.
“Okay. Maybe in a little while,” she says, sadly, which makes me feel like a terrible son. If I stay in here and study, I’m letting her down, but if I go outside, I’m letting Dad down.