Chapter Ten

Chris tugged the handle of his wheeled suitcase. Rolling over the linoleum floor, the hard plastic made a terrible, hollow noise, one which Chris had always hated. The sound brought images of a man trapped in a dark room with no windows and no doors, barely any air to breathe. Chris could find no conscious reason to connect the two, the sound and the image, but still his mind forced him to imagine those suffocating conditions.

But this was not a time to panic over mere fantasy. Chris focused instead on the signs above his head as he walked through the airport. He focused on the conversations taking place between those who were leaving and those who would be left behind, between those who had stayed and those who were coming home.

He increased his pace, though the noise of the suitcase grew louder as a consequence. He didn't care. He wanted to be part of those conversations.

The signs seemed endless, advertising various shops and giving directions to those who had lost their way. Chris passed by numerous groups of people engaged in heartwarming reunions. Though with every passing second he knew he grew closer to a reunion of his own, he felt more like he was trapped in a continuous loop, doomed to witness the happiness of others and never reach his own. The noise was driving him crazy.

And then, from amidst the sea of people emerged a call. A young boy yelled, with preposterous volume, “DADDY!” and before Chris had the chance to register the shout the same boy sprinted toward him, his mother left behind in the crowd.

Only a second passed before Chris finally did recognize the little curly-haired boy running across the stretch of empty floor to reach him. He kept his pace until Ty approached, only a few feet away now. He released the handle of his suitcase and dropped down on one knee. Ty ran right into his arms, buried his tiny face right into Chris's chest.

Chris held on as tightly as he could without squishing Ty. Ty seemed to be the same weight he was when Chris left, so Chris knew that he could at least trust Kirsten to feed the boy. He did notice that Ty now had a considerably lesser amount of hair atop his head than before. Chris asked about it.

“Mommy said it was too long and she didn't want to 'drag a brush through it every morning',” Ty explained, with the best impression of Kirsten he could muster. “So she cut it all off. But I said that's OK, now I look more like daddy!”

“That you do.” Chris skimmed his hand over the top of Ty's head. “She's right, though. It'll be nice to not have to worry about brushing it.”

Ty nodded with great enthusiasm. Then, he leaned in close to Chris and in a lowered voice said, “And guess what? Alicia said that I look very handsome with this haircut.”

Chris smiled. “Well, that was nice of her. Did you thank her for saying that?”

“Yes, I did. I said, 'Thank you, Alicia. Your hair looks very pretty, too.'”

“I'll bet she liked that.” Ty nodded once more, though more calmly. Chris ruffled his hair a bit. “Ah, you'll be a stud one day, Ty. You'll make all the ladies swoon.”

Ty shrugged, most likely indicating that he had no idea what Chris was talking about. He fidgeted a little and glanced back at Kirsten. “Daddy. Can we go home now?”

“Yeah.” Chris stood, grabbed his suitcase, and the two walked back to where Kirsten stood.

As they approached, Kirsten folded her arms across her chest and glared down at Ty. “There, are you happy now? He's back.” She sighed and switched her gaze to Chris. “He wouldn't shut up about it. It was driving me crazy. You'd think you'd been gone for years, not one month.”

Chris thought Kirsten sounded unreasonably harsh about the situation, but as he spared a look at Ty he saw that the little boy did not seem bothered by it at all, and so he let it go. They left the airport then and walked around the parking lot for a few minutes before Kirsten remembered exactly where she had parked.

On the ride home, Chris opted to sit in the back seat of Kirsten's car with Ty so that they could catch up. It was simply a bonus that he wouldn't have to deal with Kirsten that way, though she did make the occasional comment on Ty's stories, mostly to defend herself against anything she thought might make her look bad.

When finally they arrived at Chris and Ty's apartment, Kirsten dropped the boys off and, after a hasty goodbye, sped off down the road. Since the one elevator in the building had never worked quite properly, the two boys were left to hauling their luggage up the stairs. Chris noticed that Kirsten had decided to stuff all of Ty's clothes into a few plastic bags rather than trying to fit them back into the suitcase – which actually was beneficial in the long run. Chris could pull his own suitcase and the bags of Ty's clothes up the stairs while Ty dragged his own suitcase behind him, considerably lighter than it would have been with the clothes inside.

Upon entering the apartment for the first time in a month, Ty dropped his suitcase by the door and bolted through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom, shouting, “My room!”

Chris caught up with him within a minute. He found Ty lying face-down on his bed with his arms spread out, embracing the mattress.

“Oh, I missed you so much, bed,” Ty said, his voice muffled by the blankets. Chris stood in the doorway, leaned against the frame and laughed. “I'll never leave you again. Unless I go over to mommy's for a night. Or if I go to a sleepover or something. Some boys in my class have sleepovers, maybe one day I will go to one of those. But any other time, I will not leave you.”

“Ty,” Chris chuckled, “if you love your bed so much, why don't you marry it?”

Ty rolled around on the mattress until he was able to glance at Chris while still lying face-down. He ran his tiny hand over the blanket. “Can I, daddy?”

“Yeah, I'll send out the invitations.”

“You can't send out invitations if we elope.” Ty spoke so casually that for a second Chris nearly forgot he was speaking to a five-year-old. Quickly, this became one of the rare moments in which Chris realized just how often Ty watched movies, for Ty couldn't have learned such language anywhere else.

Chris pushed himself off the doorway and into the room. “Then I'll drive you to the chapel.”

Ty jumped to his feet immediately, leaped from the mattress and into Chris's arms. Chris barely reacted quickly enough to catch the boy, and he let out a small “Oof!” as Ty slammed into his chest.

“Thank you, daddy.” Ty had his arms wrapped tight around Chris's torso. Chris tried to pry them away for a moment so he could shimmy Ty up a bit and get a better grip on the boy, but Ty refused to let go. After a few moments, Chris had to set him down.

But as soon as his feet hit the ground, Ty clasped his arms around Chris's legs instead. Chris bent down and gave Ty a proper hug.

“I'm glad you're back now,” Ty whispered. Chris stroked his hand over Ty's freshly cut hair. “I love mommy, but she's not as nice as you. She wouldn't let me watch movies.”

“Well, you're home now, and guess what?” Chris pulled back a bit to see, and as he did so Ty mimicked his action. Ty looked at him with oddly calm eyes. “We have the entire afternoon, and a huge stack of movies in the living room that haven't been watched in a whole month.”

A grin spread wide across Ty's small face. Chris stood up and held his hand out to Ty.

“But first I have a present for you.” Ty gasped as he grabbed onto Chris's hand. Chris led them out of Ty's room and into his own bedroom.

“What is it?” Ty asked.

“It's something I made while I was gone.”

Chris flicked on the bedroom light; though it was still daytime, his curtains were drawn, and he didn't feel like going through the trouble of opening them up. He brought Ty over to the bed, where Chris's open suitcase rested. On top of the stack of clothes sat a white package. Chris removed this package and handed it to Ty.

“What is it?” Ty ran his hands over every inch of the package. He put his ear up to the wrapper and shook the present, but it made no noise other than the sound of his hands against the exterior. Finally, he flipped the package over and neatly unsealed the wrapper.

He pulled from the envelope a stack of card-stock paper which had been glued together on one end to make a spine. He looked blankly at the top of the pile, a paper with words written in a large font and a picture of a small boy flying a kite. Ty had no clue what the words said, but he thought the picture looked very nice, and he knew almost instantly what this present was.

Ty directed his gaze at Chris. “Is this a book?” Chris nodded. Ty beamed. “You got me a book?”

“No, I wrote it for you.” Ty's jaw dropped. He turned back to the book, eyes fervently scanning the cover. “Uncle Alex drew all the pictures.”

Ty pointed to three tinier words at the bottom of the cover, just under the illustration. He ran his finger over each letter. “By... Chris Martin?”

“Yeah,” Chris quickly answered, blinking several times in rapid succession. “Did you just read that by yourself?”

Ty glanced at Chris. He frowned and looked at the cover, then back to Chris once more. “Did I read it wrong? That weird loopy thing and the slingshot, I thought that says 'by.'”

“It does.”

Seemingly not comforted by Chris's reassurance – perhaps still worried by the certain look of confusion on Chris's face – Ty tapped his finger over the letters again. “That word is on all of the books you read me and the ones Ms. L reads to us in class. It looks exactly the same. And this is your name. That's what it looks like on the mail.” Ty brought his eyes up to Chris, furrowed his eyebrows. “Is that bad?”

Chris shook his head while his brain struggled to find words which could capture with accuracy his total shock. “No, Ty, that's amazing. I don't know why, but I'm just always so surprised by how smart you are.”

Ty appeared no more confident than before. He stepped up to Chris and held out the book. “I can't read all of it. Will you read it to me?”

Chris grabbed the book and set it down on the bed. He also took a seat beside the suitcase and brought Ty into his lap. “I'll read it to you before you go to bed. Which reminds me, I have something else to give you.”

Reaching back into the suitcase, Chris retrieved Ty's precious stuffed elephant. Ty squealed at the sight of the stuffed animal, and promptly squeezed it to his chest, eyes closed and cheek squished up against the plush. After a few moments, he pushed the elephant back into Chris's hands.

“I have something for you, too, daddy,” Ty said as he reached for his shirt collar. He couldn't unclasp the chain of the necklace by himself, but he did pull out the locket and hold it for Chris to see. Chris brought his hand to the back of Ty's neck and undid the clasp. The chain slithered into Ty's hand as it fell from his shoulders.

Chris took the locket from Ty, after which Ty snatched up his elephant again. Chris laughed and poked Ty in the nose. In retaliation, Ty shoved the elephant's trunk into Chris's nose, and then snorted with laughter.

“I went through the trouble of writing you a beautiful book, and that's how you repay me?”

“It wasn't me, daddy, it was the elephant,” Ty said with a goofy smile. “I would never hit your nose with a trunk.”

Chris laughed, rolled his eyes, and made a comment about how Ty would of course never do anything so cruel. He scooped Ty up in his arms and carried the little boy out to the living room, where he promptly dropped Ty on the couch. He slid over to the stack of DVDs, which had by now accumulated a nice layer of dust, and extracted the movie he knew Ty loved most.

As the menu music roared through the television speakers, Chris plopped down into the seat beside Ty. “Oh, guess who I ran into while I was gone?” Chris directed at Ty, who merely shrugged in response. “Your grandfather.”

Ty stared at Chris with a glazed expression. “I thought grandma and grandpa went to see grandma's mom 'cause she's sick.”

“No, no. Grandpa is your mom's dad. I meant my dad.” He added, unnecessarily and in a softer voice, “My father.”

Ty bobbed his head as if he understood. Chris knew that he actually didn't, or at least didn't care, when he turned to face the TV with no additional comment.

“He said we should come over for dinner some time,” Chris continued. “He wants to meet you.”

“Other grandpa wants to meet me?” Ty asked, flinging his head around to face Chris. Chris nodded. Ty leaned back in his seat, a serious look stretched over his face. “I want to meet other grandpa.”

Chris glanced toward the kitchen. “Maybe I should call him now. If I call him, do you want to talk to him?”

“No,” Ty responded without hesitation. Chris shot him a questioning look. “I don't even want to see another phone for the rest of my life.”

“Fair enough,” Chris said with a smile. He grabbed the remote from the arm rest of the couch and hit the button to start the movie. As the menu faded and the opening credits began, Chris stood up and wandered into the kitchen.

The phone call lasted no more than five minutes, as Cliff wanted to set the dinner date as quickly as possible lest Alice overhear the conversation and question her husband. At the very end of the week Chris and Ty would travel to the manor in which Chris had grown up, but had not seen in nearly five years, since his extremely brief trip to the house with Alex. Chris hadn't asked about spending the night, but figured that he could probably handle driving back home if neither of his parents offered. He knew of a few different hotels in the town, anyway, should he and Ty need to stay overnight.

Then came the waiting. Chris had told Ty about the dinner later, but Ty, being a small boy with many other things occupying his mind, had seemingly forgotten about it throughout the week. Chris, on the other hand, thought about the future meeting almost every five minutes. He was nervous, definitely, but not just because he would be reunited for an evening with his mother, who had no idea that Chris and Ty would be there that Friday evening. He thought back to the meeting he had with Darren's mother and knew that if his parents didn't approve of the way he had raised Ty thus far, he would probably break down completely. This frightened him, that he still cared so much about how he compared to his parents' expectations, and that he was dragging his son into it this time. Chris promised himself that he wouldn't become invested no matter what his parents thought, but he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to control it regardless.

So when Chris picked Ty up from school on Friday and reminded Ty of their plans, he could only respond with a halfhearted laugh to Ty's outburst of excitement. On the way home, Ty sang a song about finally meeting his paternal grandparents – whom he referred to as “other grandpa” and “other grandma,” which Chris told him he should probably not call them to their faces – and when they entered their apartment, Ty ran to his room to get ready. Chris yelled to him down the hallway to say that they weren't even leaving for several hours, but Ty merely responded, “Looking nice takes a lot of time.”

Indeed, Ty spent the entirety of those next hours preparing himself for the night. He refused any and all help from Chris, and at one point wouldn't even let Chris into the bathroom to pee because he didn't want Chris to see what he looked like.

“Ty, I already know what you look like,” Chris said through the bathroom door. “Let me in.”

Ty only agreed to allow Chris to enter under the condition that Ty would stand in the bathtub with the shower curtain pulled closed so that he would not be visible. Chris was just happy to finally be able to relieve himself.

Half an hour before he planned to leave, Chris told Ty that he had to stop getting ready, so that there would still be enough time for Chris to fix anything on Ty he needed to before they would have to go. Surprisingly, though, Ty had groomed himself well enough that the half-hour was instead spent expressing enthusiasm – that, and playing “find daddy's car keys.”

The drive to the manor also consisted of much celebration, at least on Ty's part. He once again sang the song about his “other” grandparents. He also sang about how much of a “super awesome and great job” he had done getting ready for the event. Chris did genuinely love Ty's quirkiness in this type of situation, but after an hour and a half he thought he could never be more grateful to see that plain white house with his father's expensive car in the driveway.

“Daddy, are we here?” Ty asked when Chris parked beside the fancy car.

“We're certainly not there,” Chris sarcastically replied as he pulled the key out of the ignition. He turned to face Ty in the back seat. “We have arrived at your other grandparents' house.”

Ty didn’t even wait for Chris to get out of the car before he unbuckled himself and flung the back door open. He leaped from his car seat and onto the gravel driveway just as Chris unfolded his legs and set his feet on the ground. With all his might, Ty pushed the door closed and ran to the front of the car to wait for Chris. As Chris walked up to Ty, the little boy grabbed his hand and yanked as he attempted to sprint to the house. Chris pulled his arm back just a bit.

“Ty, slow down. The house isn’t going anywhere,” Chris said. Ty yanked on his arm again.

“I’m going somewhere.” Ty paused and puffed out his chest. “I’m going to meet my other grandparents. You don’t care, because you’ve already met them!”

After a long moment of staring down at Ty, Chris sighed. “All right.” Chris released Ty’s hand and waved for the boy to continue on the path to the house. Ty beamed and bolted onward just as Chris was struck with a terrible realization. “Wait, Ty!”

Chris ran after his son, who he caught just before the boy prepared to knock on the front door. He bent down and grabbed Ty’s shoulders. Ty looked at him with big blue eyes.

“Daddy, you said I could go.”

“Listen,” Chris told him, “you know how you get angry when you think people are being nasty to me?”

“Like Darren’s mommy,” Ty replied in a grudging voice, folding his arms over his chest. Chris pulled Ty’s arms back down to his sides.

“Yes, like that. Your grandmother doesn’t know we’re coming. She might not be too happy to see us – well, to see me, anyway. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s possible that she’ll say a few things that you won’t like.” Ty’s eyebrows scrunched together and his lips tightened. His facial expression seemed to be a mixture of anger and confusion. “I need you to stay calm, OK? Please don’t get upset if she does saying anything.”

Ty stared at Chris for a few seconds. When next he spoke, his voice was oddly low. “Why would other grandma be mean to you?”

“It’s a bit complicated and too much to go into right now. Will you promise me you’ll be all right? No yelling. And definitely no hitting.”

Ty looked down at his hands and fiddled with his shirt. “I won’t hit anyone.”

Chris smiled and gave Ty a quick hug before standing up. Ty followed Chris with his eyes, which had begun to shine with excitement once more. Chris gestured toward the door. Ty beamed as he curled his hand into a fist and promptly knocked on the door. As they waited for an answer, Ty brought his hands up to his mouth and emitted an odd combination of giggling and snorting. Chris reached over and ruffled Ty’s hair just as the door opened.

Cliff stood in the doorway, towering over the two because of the large step from the porch into the house. He nodded briefly at Chris and then glanced down at the fidgety boy.

“And who might you be?” Cliff asked.

Ty let his arms drop to his sides. He stood as straight as he possibly could while having to stretch his neck back just to see Cliff’s face. “My name is Tyrone.”

Cliff turned to Chris with raised eyebrows. “Tyrone?”

“I didn’t name him,” Chris replied. He gave a quick shrug. “His middle name is Bunimo.”

“Mommy said she was sorry for naming me that, because the hospital people gave her drugs and she couldn’t think when they asked her to name me, but I said, ‘Mommy, you don’t have to be sorry. I like being Tyrone.’” Now Cliff turned to Ty with a similar expression, no doubt astounded by the boy’s ability to ramble. Ty beamed like nothing had happened. “Anyway, lotsa people call me Ty, so you can call me that too if you want, but it’s polite to give people your whole name first. Ms. L. taught us that. I would tell you her whole name first, too, but I can’t remember it.”

Ty simply smiled at Cliff when he finished speaking. Cliff looked thoroughly overwhelmed, but seemed to snap out of his trance after a moment. He took a step back and held his arm out behind him.

“Well, Ty, would you and your father like to come in and dine with us?”

“Yes, please!” Ty jumped up and down a few times. He turned to Chris and whispered, “I’m going to meet other grandma now.”

“All right, come on,” Chris said with a laugh as he pushed Ty along into the house. Once in the foyer, Ty examined the pictures hung up on the wall. He stopped and gasped loudly, pointing at one picture of two teenage boys wearing suits in front of a light blue backdrop.

“That’s Uncle Alex!” He spun around to Chris and pointed back at the photograph. “Daddy, that’s Uncle Alex.”

Chris nodded as he hoisted Ty in the air. “That’s Uncle Alex, yes. This boy next to him is your Uncle David.”

Ty glared at the picture. He squinted his eyes and leaned as close as he could. “He doesn’t look like you or Uncle Alex.” He glanced quickly at Cliff. “Or other grandpa.”

“He looks more like your grandmother,” Chris told him.

Then, as if on some cue, a voice drifted from the vicinity of the kitchen. “Cliff, who is it?”

“Just a few dinner guests, dear,” Cliff called in reply. He and Chris shared a nervous look as the sound of footsteps drew closer to the foyer.

“Dinner guests? We’re not expecting any–”

As soon as she stepped into the room, Alice’s eyes locked on Chris. Chris had a flashback to the last time he had been in the house, a trip that had lasted only a few minutes. Alice had glared at him the same way, had refused to say even one word to her estranged son. This time Chris glared back with none of the insecurity he felt before. He had every right to be here, if only as a guest of his father.

Ty must have grown tired of the tense silence, for he wiggled himself out of Chris’s grasp and skipped over to stand in front of Alice. He grinned up at her. “My name is Tyrone. It is nice to meet you. Oh!” He whipped around to face Cliff with a bit of a panicked expression. “It was nice to meet you, too. I forgot to say that.”

“You’re forgiven,” Cliff said with a bit of a smile. Chris felt relieved that at least his father seemed to approve of the boy.

Yet, Alice had simply shifted her hard gaze to Ty. Kneeling down before the boy, her expression began to soften. She appeared more blank now.

“My God, you're practically a clone.” Ty twisted up his mouth and examined his hands, as if he would find there a sign of his uniqueness. Alice shook her head ever so slightly. “May I ask, Tyrone, what it is you're doing here?”

“Daddy said other grandpa wanted us to come for dinner so he could meet me.” Ty brushed off his shirt and fixed the hem. He stood tall and smiled for the umpteenth time. “And I wanted to meet him and I also wanted to meet you. I got ready all by myself. It took a long time, but I think I did a pretty good job getting ready without any help.”

Then, quite surprisingly, Alice smiled back. Chris questioned if this was actually happening, until he realized that the pause Alice had taken thereafter could not result in any good. “I suppose your daddy was too busy flirting with the mailman to help.”

“Um, no,” Ty said, scratching his head, “daddy was just working in the living room, I think.” He glanced over at Chris, who surely had begun to glare at Alice. Ty seemed to understand then the spite behind Alice's tone, and he frowned at his grandmother. He struggled for a few seconds, before finally running over to Chris and hugging Chris's leg. Chris patted Ty on the head.

“I don't even know the mailman, thanks.”

Alice rose from the ground like a snake in a basket. She straightened her skirt and threw Chris a dirty look. “You don't have to,” she sneered just before returning to the kitchen. Cliff made to follow after her, stopping in the doorway.

“You're welcome to have a seat in the salon,” Cliff told the two. “I'll go have a word with your mother.”

Chris nodded as Cliff disappeared into the other room. Seconds later, Ty tugged on Chris's jeans.

“Daddy,” Ty began, his voice so low that Chris could barely hear. “Did other grandma say something mean to me?” After a moment of hesitation, Chris nodded. “So she doesn't like me?”

“No, she doesn't know you yet. It was about me.” Chris glanced over at the kitchen doorway and added in a loud voice, “And it was wrong of her to do that to you.”

“It was wrong for you to come here!” chimed Alice from the other room. At this, Chris sighed and felt Ty squeeze his leg again. He pried Ty away and brought the boy into the salon. Ty momentarily forgot his grief, immediately running to the largest chair he could find. He hopped into the seat and sank down into the cushion. His arms stretched to reach the armrests, but couldn't reach. He scooted over to the left armrest and patted the spot beside him.

“Come on, daddy, you can sit here, too.”

Chris wasn't sure that there would be enough room for the both of them, but he walked over and took a seat anyway. Little room existed between the two boys, but this was no matter, as Ty snuggled up to Chris as soon as Chris was off his feet.

“Did you used to live here, daddy?” Ty asked in a soft voice. Chris nodded, confirmed that he had in fact grown up in this very house. Ty was astonished and asked to hear stories. After several moments of thought, Chris provided a story from his early childhood, which he figured would please Ty – and would spare Chris having to explain the complications of his teenage life.

The story Chris told was one from the summer of his seventh year. David was only sixteen years old, Alex eleven. Chris had started school the previous autumn, though now the academic year had ended. The three boys played in the back garden one afternoon, as they typically did. That is, Chris and Alex played; David more or less babysat his younger brothers, sitting on the back porch with a newspaper in hand. David had decided that since he had only a few years left until adulthood, he should begin to catch up on all the world's affairs.

Chris and Alex, on the other hand, had brought outside a kickball, which they then proceeded to kick at and throw to each other. The game had no real rules, and thus the boys became tired of it quickly. Alex kicked the ball too hard once, sending it soaring over Chris's head and far behind the little boy. Chris sprinted to catch it, but still took several minutes as the ball continued to roll across the wide, empty estate. By the time Chris had retrieved the ball, Alex waited in his spot, watching David scan through his newspaper.

“I have the ball, Alex,” Chris chirped. Alex shushed him and pointed at David. For a few seconds, they both watched the teenager. “Why are we looking at David?”

Alex shushed him again. He spun around and pulled Chris with him, threw his arm over his brother's shoulder and leaned close. “Listen,” Alex whispered, “I have a plan.”

David flipped the page of his newspaper. He saw the two boys huddled and thought nothing of it. Just another example of his brothers playing their stupid games. He returned his attention to the paper.

Moments later, Alex broke the huddle. He grabbed the ball out of Chris's hand and took a few steps back. Running forward, he dropped the ball, connected his foot with it as hard as he possibly could. The ball whirled through the air so fast that by the time David caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, it was already too late. David tried to shield himself, but the ball collided with the side of his face, leaving a mark which quickly reddened.

To claim innocence Alex and Chris tried to stifle their laughter, but were not at all successful, especially Chris. The little boy let out a roar of laughter at the sight of his oldest brother in pain. Alex soon lost his cool as well, just as David threw his newspaper to the ground. The teen slowly rose from his chair in a manner which he surely had found menacing, though it didn't seem to concern the other boys.

Until, of course, David opened his mouth and shouted, “MOTHER!”

Alex immediately silenced. Chris still chuckled, but stopped as soon as Alex spit out, “Shit.”

“Alex!” Chris yelled, covering his ears with his hands –

At this point in the story, Ty gasped. Leaning in close to Chris, he whispered, “Did Uncle Alex really say that?”

“He did, and he got in a lot of trouble for it.” Chris told Ty about the punishment both of the younger boys had received: An entire month of doing the dishes before bedtime. Since Alex had been the brains behind the shenanigans, he had to do the washing each night. Alice made sure to cook the greasiest and crustiest food that month.

Once Chris finished his tale, Cliff walked into the room. He stopped in the doorway and waited until the other two looked over at him. “Dinner is ready,” he said with a polite, yet clearly distressed, tone.

Chris set his hand on Ty's back, pushed gently until the boy hopped off of the chair and scrambled into the other room with Cliff. He climbed into the seat closest to the doorway, but had to rest on his knees just to see over the tabletop. Chris had not considered the fact that their table at home was shorter, thus Ty had never required any type of booster seat in the past. He highly doubted his parents would have one on hand.

Yet, as Chris watched Ty lean his elbows on the table, Cliff swooped in with a seat which Chris almost instantly recognized as the same one he had used when he was Ty's age. He shared a brief glance with Cliff, who seemed to have caught on to what Chris was thinking.

Then Alice was in the room with two large bowls, one full of pasta and the other full of tomato sauce. Ty wiggled into a comfortable position in his seat as Alice set the dishes on the table. He squealed as he caught sight of the food.

“I love spaghetti!” he said with a few claps of his hands. “Not more than grilled cheese, but I love spaghetti, too.”

“Yes, we made it just for you,” Alice sarcastically remarked, though the bitter tone was lost on the little boy. Instead, he simply grinned wider and wiggled more, this time because of excitement.

“You do have napkins, right?” Chris kept his eyes on Ty, who now began to practically dance in his seat. “Like, a whole package of napkins.”

Ty stopped his movement and narrowed his eyes at Chris. “I will be the cleanest, daddy. Not even one spot will be on me.” Quickly, Ty leaned forward and pointed his finger in Chris's face. “And you will be the messy one.”

“You're on.” Chris extended his hand. Ty pulled his finger back and shook Chris's hand. “The cleanest one will be the winner.”

The dinner itself passed by in almost complete silence, the only real noise being that of forks scraping against dishes and the occasional slurp from Ty's corner of the table. Chris noted every time Alice threw a glance in the little boy's direction, though no sneer ever crossed her face. It seemed as if she simply had difficulty comprehending the boy's existence, perhaps because he was a grandchild she'd never met and was unexpectedly thrust upon her, or perhaps because he could have passed for a five-year-old Chris. Chris felt certain his mother would have loved to have kept him at that age, the age in which he did everything she told him to with no fuss.

Ty, of course, would not do anything without a fuss. Not that he was a brat, just that he loved to ask questions, and sometimes those questions just didn't have answers. Chris knew Ty would drive Alice crazy if the two had to spend any extended length of time together.

Cliff could probably handle Ty's curiosity. Chris had plenty of memories from when he was growing up of Cliff explaining various subjects to him. Chris would save any and all questions he had about life for Cliff, since he knew he could get an answer no matter what. He realized now that Cliff had made up some of the answers, or had used convoluted language to trick the boy into believing he had received an actual answer instead of a vague rambling speech.

After dinner (Ty won the clean contest, as Chris purposely smacked a few strands of spaghetti against his face), Cliff brought Ty up to the attic to examine several old photo albums, presumably the ones Cliff had mentioned to Chris when they met in the bookstore. Not wanting to deal with his mother, Chris decided to join them. The attic felt much smaller than he had remembered – though by the time he left the house he had already become a large boy, in his few final years of school Chris had continued to grow.

Ty made the loudest, and most ear-shattering, high-pitched noise when he first laid eyes on a picture of five-year-old Chris. He shouted, “DADDY! That's daddy!” and proceeded to ramble about the resemblance between himself and his father.

Cliff laughed at the boy's reaction with such mirth that Chris felt his heart swell at the sight; no matter what had happened between the family in the past, he could clearly see that Cliff loved Ty as he would any of his other grandchildren. It felt almost like a fresh start.

But the past still existed. Chris began to feel cramped in the attic after a while. He left Cliff and Ty alone while he strolled around the house. He passed the room which had been his when he lived there, the door closed, and took only a few steps further before glancing back, contemplating peeking in to see what had become of his space.

He stared at the door for what felt like hours, fighting with himself. He shouldn't open the door, because it's not any of his business what these people did with their spare rooms. He didn't live here anymore, he shouldn't care.

On the other hand, he wanted to know what sort of horrible things they – specifically his mother – might have done to the room, how they might have gone about erasing Chris's existence. He wanted to know and to not be surprised by how awful the change was.

And then suddenly his hands were upon the door, one turning the knob, the other pushing gently on the wood. He closed his eyes, just in case he decided at the last second that he didn't want to see after all. A few seconds of standing in the doorway with his vision blocked later, he decided to go for it. His eyebrows must have gone up far past his hairline when he finally saw the room.

Nothing had changed. The only difference between the room now and the room when he left was that presently cobwebs covered almost every possible surface, all of his books, the bed, even the corners where the wall met the carpeted floor. As Chris gaped, unable to quite comprehend this shock, light footsteps sounded in the hallway just outside.

Alice cleared her throat, causing Chris to jump a bit, as he had been so entranced that he had no idea she had appeared. He spun around, bringing with him a look of utter confusion. Alice's face displayed more of a guilty expression, a demeanor of having been caught doing something wrong or potentially embarrassing. For a while they stood like that, completely silent.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but soon lost the words and merely gestured backward to the room instead. Alice folded her arms across her chest in an almost defensive way.

“In case you changed your mind,” she said in a low voice. Chris dropped his hand, already starting to see that perhaps this gesture was not as kind as he might have thought. “But it's not yours. That room belongs to my son.”

Chris inhaled deeply, fighting back the surge of frustration which he had known all too well in his teenage years. He took a few steps closer to his mother, prepared to do what he had never done before in her presence and stand up for himself.

“That room belonged to me, and if you think that the person I was back then is not the person I am now, then you're wrong.” Chris took another deep breath, watched as Alice stared blankly back at him as if challenging him to make her show some sort of emotion. “Have you ever even looked at what's in there? I mean really look. Because if you have, then you'd know that your son could never be the person you expected him to be. The person you thought he was.”

At this, Alice sneered. “What you do is far more important than what you are. You can be one kind of person and still do what is expected of you.”

“Fine, then I'm just weak, because I couldn't handle both.”

Alice's voice began to rise with every word she spoke. “You're a brat for whining about it. Do you think this is easy for anyone?”

“It doesn't make sense for anyone,” Chris shouted back. “What's the point of pretending, and what does anyone else get out of it?”

“That boy of yours, what does he get out of you acting so self-righteous?” Alice took a step forward to meet Chris, dropped her arms to the side and held herself with as much confidence and conviction as Chris had always wished he could have. “Does he have two parents who work their hardest to provide him with a nice home, a safe and secure roof over his head? Three healthy and plentiful meals every single day? A nice yard where he can run around and play whenever he feels like it?”

Chris began to feel his resolve weakening. He struggled to find the right words with which to beat down Alice. “Ty doesn't need any of that,” he said, so quickly it came out as one long word. “What we have is fine.”

“I'm sure.”

Chris shook his head. He pushed against the doubt. “No, I do work hard for him, even if my job's not quite steady. He eats well; maybe not the healthiest foods, but he eats what he likes and he doesn't starve. He loves just sitting in our living room and watching movies. Even when he plays, he has the wildest imagination. He can work with anything.” Chris paused briefly to shrug his shoulders. “He sees his mother every now and then. She's busy with school anyway.”

Alice narrowed her eyes so subtly Chris almost missed it. The brief pause seemed to calm her down, as she spoke next in a much softer voice. “Is that what's best for him?”

“Yeah, because I let him be who he is.”

Alice began to tap her foot with clear frustration. “This again. Sometimes we don't get to be who we are. That's all there is to it.”

“Clearly, that's not all there is.”

“There are standards–”

“And who's holding you to those standards? Your parents? They're not around anymore, so you can pull off your ridiculously pretentious mask now.”

Then, as if his words had pulled some invisible thread attached to Alice's hand, her palm collided with the side of his face in a split second. She continued to hold her hand up after, seemingly a bit surprised herself. Chris inhaled sharply, feeling the hot sting as his face reddened.

“You can say whatever you want to me,” he breathed. “Tell me that I'm a fucking brat and that you disapprove of everything I've ever done.” He quickly glanced up at Alice, who had lowered her hand by this point, though still looked uncertain of what exactly had happened, what was happening. “But I would never hurt my child.”

“Daddy?”

Both Chris and Alice started at the sound of Ty's voice. He and Cliff had appeared in the hallway moments before, but had done so quietly enough to allow the feuding duo to miss their entrance. Chris turned to Ty, a sinking sensation in his chest as he wondered how much the little boy had overheard.

Ty didn't wait for Chris to answer before he spoke up again. “Is it time to go home?” he asked in a small voice.

Chris noticed that Ty held a photo album tight against his chest. It looked fairly new, unlike the other albums they had been going through before Chris left. In fact, Chris was sure he hadn't seen that album in the attic at all. But before he let his attention wander too far, he nodded. “Yeah, I think it is.”

Frowning, Ty spun around and hugged Cliff's legs. Cliff smiled and patted Ty on the head. Then, the boy headed over to where Chris stood, all the while glaring at Alice like she was a giant alien who had just declared grilled cheese sandwiches to be, in fact, the worst food in existence. Still clutching the photo album in one arm, he reached his other arm up to grab Chris's hand. When Chris felt Ty squeeze tighter than normal, he figured it was meant as a comforting gesture, and squeezed back.

“Bye grandpa, bye other grandma.” Ty started to walk away, tugging Chris behind him.

“I'll walk you out,” Cliff said, following close behind and leaving Alice alone in the hallway.

At the car, Chris realized that Ty had carried the photo album out with them. Chris bent down to grab it from Ty, but before he could, Cliff's hand rested on his shoulder.

“It's a present,” he mumbled, perhaps to keep Ty from overhearing. Chris stood back up, eyebrows raised at his father.

“Grandpa said it's a very special book,” Ty chimed in with a wide grin.

“Did you thank him?” Ty nodded fiercely. Chris thought he might start jumping at any moment. “Good.”

Chris tugged open the back car door. Ty hopped inside and climbed into his car seat. Cliff took a step forward.

“May I?” he asked Chris, gesturing to Ty. Chris nodded without a second thought. He watched as Cliff half-bent over to fit into the car and began to fasten Ty's seat belt. “Thank you for coming today,” Cliff said to Ty, though his voice was so low that Chris could just barely hear.

“It was lots of fun,” Ty replied in an equally quiet tone, but with a clear smile on his face. “Grandpa?”

“Yes?”

“Could you come to eat dinner at our house one time?” Ty flicked his finger at the cover of the photo album, his eyes down to watch Cliff's hands buckle the straps across Ty's chest. “We don't live in a fancy place like you, but you could still come over and we can eat grilled cheese sandwiches and I will show you all of the great movies that we have and we can even watch some of them, too.”

Cliff finished buckling Ty in just as the little boy lifted his big eyes to see his grandfather's face. Ty beamed and nodded excitedly, as if trying to coerce Cliff into agreeing. Cliff laughed under his breath and patted Ty on the shoulder.

“That sounds wonderful. As long as your father agrees to it.”

“Oh, he will,” Ty answered with such confidence that Cliff let out another chuckle. Ty faced Chris and shouted, “Right, daddy?” Then, he cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered, “Just say yes.”

Chris stared blankly at Ty for a few moments. Shifting his gaze to Cliff, a small smile broke out over his lips. “Yeah,” he said with a quick nod.

Cliff moved his hand from Ty's shoulder to the boy's head, patted twice, and stood up from the car. He headed to where Chris stood and waited a few seconds before finally engulfing Chris in a hug.

“It was good to see you again,” Cliff mumbled as Chris returned the embrace. “Sorry about your mother.”

“Yeah, me too.” Cliff let out a short, breathy laugh in response. The two pulled away from each other. Chris shrugged his shoulders and gave his father a wide smile. “She'll never come around and I don't expect her to.”

“Keep in touch.”

Chris nodded, but wasn't sure what to do next. Awkwardly – or it felt awkward on his part, at least – he set his hand to rest on Cliff's shoulder for roughly five seconds, then tore his hand away and got into the car without another word. Cliff remained in his spot as Chris started the car, backed out of the driveway, and took off down the road.

By the time the car finally pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment building, Ty's bedtime had come and gone. Unsurprisingly, the little boy had fallen asleep on the ride home. Chris hated waking Ty, and so he unbuckled the little boy as carefully as he could. Of course, Ty still woke as Chris pulled him out of the car and heaved him over Chris's torso.

“Daddy,” Ty mumbled into Chris's chest, his voice muffled by clothing, as Chris began to climb the stairs toward their apartment. “I liked meeting grandpa.”

Chris ruffled Ty's hair a bit with his free hand. “He liked meeting you, too.”

“But not other grandma,” Ty said with more conviction. “She made me feel angry.”

“But you stayed calm. I'm proud of you for that.” Ty went silent after this point, though Chris felt Ty's arms tighten around him.

A few minutes later, Chris set Ty down into his bed and pulled the covers over him. Ty blinked sleepily as he clutched the blanket in his tiny hands. Suddenly, his eyes widened and frantically searched the surrounding area. He gasped and informed Chris that his photo album had been left behind in the car. Chris tried to tell him that it would be safe until the morning and that Ty should just go back to sleep, but Ty insisted that having the album beside him was of utmost importance.

Thus, to retrieve the album, Chris trudged down to the car and back. The thought of sneaking a peek at the contents before handing the book to Ty didn't actually occur to him until after it rested snugly in Ty's arms. But Ty looked up at Chris and asked him if he wanted to look at the album together. Chris said yes, as he figured Ty would grow tired again after five minutes or so. He figured correctly.

Before Ty did fall asleep, though, the pair glanced at a few pages of the pictures inside. Cliff had duplicated several of the photos from the camping trip he had recalled to Chris. Most of the pictures were of the three young boys, as Cliff had been the one controlling the camera. A few of the shots were only Cliff and Chris, and some of them were pictures Chris couldn't remember ever seeing before.

As Ty slowly drifted off, Chris took over flipping the pages. Ty had gone silent for such a long time that Chris assumed he had fallen asleep already, but out of nowhere the little boy spoke up, “Grandpa said he would take me to go camping with him like you did when you were little.”

Ty said nothing else after that, and Chris gave no vocal reply. He smiled at Ty, whose eyes had closed now, and brushed his hand over Ty's short dark hair. He thought about the anxiety he had experienced leading up to the dinner, and though the evening had not gone completely smoothly, he felt it was a step in the right direction. He knew now that he could at least patch up his relationship with his father, and seeing how well Cliff and Ty had connected in those few short hours, he felt that was good enough.