“Grant,” Randy protested with a wave of his hand.
“Are you that desperate?” Grant exhaled. “Are you making phone calls to all your friends at West Point? Is this the golden opportunity you’ve been looking for? You ruin my senior basketball season, and, without that pipe dream to hold on to, I change my mind and decide to become a war hero before running for the presidency?”
“Nothing could be further from the truth, Grant,” Randy insisted. “This is all your mother’s idea; I’ve disrespected her enough, and I won’t hurt her even more by keeping her kids from her.” He paused. “I know you want to play basketball, Son, and, if that’s what you want to do, I won’t be able to stop you.”
“Basketball season starts in four days, Dad,” Grant protested. “I’m the point guard for the best high school basketball team in this state; I am as much as guaranteed a scholarship to the school of my choice, but I opened my eyes yesterday morning, and, all of a sudden, I’m living some other guy’s life.”
“Some things simply take precedence over basketball,” Randy argued.
“Dad, I know you hate basketball,” Grant pled. “You think it’s just a game, but it’s more than that to me. I know you must think it’s lame; I mean, it isn’t leading the troops out of Saigon, huh? But that was your life, Dad… that was your adrenaline rush. When I have that basketball in my hand, and there are five men between me and the basket…”
“You won’t compare war and basketball in my house,” Randy demanded.
“That’s not what I was doing,” Grant rolled his eyes. “But you, on the other hand, feel free to bring your whore back into your sacred domicile for a midday rendezvous.”
“Is it really necessary to bring that up just to hurt me?” Randy barked.
“I thought I would take the heat off myself and get back to the root of this conversation,” Grant shrugged, almost disinterestedly.
“Well,” Randy shot back, “if you had been in school that day, like you were supposed to be, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and your mother wouldn’t be running back to Tennessee.”
“Are you serious?” Grant protested. “Are you really going to try and shift the blame to me? Thou shalt not get bored at school or Thou shalt not commit adultery? Remind me again which one made it into the Ten Commandments?”
Randy crossed his arms. “All the nights when I was living with the guilt of the secret that I was carrying around, I knew that if it came out, all the people I care about would be hurt. In my mind, I had you pegged as the kid who would care the least, but I think I was wrong. I think you’re the one who has been hurt most by what I did, and I…”
“Don’t apologize to me again,” Grant said as he grabbed his suitcase and brushed by his dad. In the hallway, he turned around slowly. “I have been begging you to keep me here with you, but, right now, I can’t say that I care if I ever see you again.”
Randy grabbed Grant’s shoulder. “Grant, wait…”
“Let go of me,” Grant insisted. “I’ll get my money from Pops soon enough, and, as soon as I do, I’ll bail on life on the farm.”
Randy’s brow wrinkled. “If you’ll just listen, we could talk the way that Ike and I used to; we could learn to understand each other.”
Grant’s reply came in the form of a mocking laugh. “You’ll never understand me, and I don’t want to try and understand you. I hate you.”
“That is a very strong word, Son,” Randy swallowed.
“That is precisely why I chose it,” Grant nodded. “I hate you for what you did to my mom! I hate you for bringing up Ike’s name in a conversation that is about me! I hate you for not supporting my dreams because they don’t align with yours. I hate you for never building forts with me with way you did with David and Ike…” Grant’s voice trailed off. There was more, but he didn’t feel like getting into it.
“Well, if my own son hates me, then what have I spent my entire life fighting for?” Randy said, defeated.
“I guess that is something you will have plenty of time to ponder in this big, empty, quiet house while I am condemned to prison for a crime you committed,” Grant replied instantly.
“I don’t expect you to be your brother,” Randy insisted. “It has never been about you wanting what Ike and I wanted.”
“Just shut-up!” Grant hollered. “Spare me the speech…and just shut-up for once!”
Randy’s face boiled red with rage. “I don’t take that kind of disrespect from anyone and certainly not from one of my children!”
“Well, Dad,” Grant shrugged as he continued down the hall with his suitcase. “Everybody’s always saying I never tell the truth, so here’s the truth for you. I don’t respect you, not anymore.”
Randy stormed down the hall, grabbed Grant from behind and pinned him up against the living room wall with so much force that Grant was surprised he didn’t go right through it. Randy’s voice boomed, startling everyone in the room. “Go ahead, Grant!” he cried. “It’s not enough that your mother is leaving me for another man! You let me have it too! It’ll make you feel better! Tell me what a failure I am as a husband and as a father!”
“Whoa!” David gasped, jumping up from his seat on the sofa. “Dad, what are you doing?”
“I think I’ve already covered that,” Grant said in a tone much too cocky to be used by someone whose face was plastered against a wall. “But, if you need a recap…”
“Would you shut-up?” David demanded of his brother.
“Please don’t hurt him, Dad!” Joanna begged.
Melissa stood next to her husband, her nails pressing into his skin just deep enough to remind him what she was capable of. “Stand up to him,” she whispered. “Tell him that he can’t get away with this; tell him you’ll arrest him.”
David’s eyes flashed over at his wife, but, before he could formulate a response that would express just how suicidal he thought her suggestion was, Leah stepped in instead. Leaning from her mother’s arms, she reached out her tiny hand toward Grant, stretching toward him with all her might as the most heart-wrenching whimper escaped her lips and echoed in a room silenced by shock.
Randy slowly moved away from Grant, his gaze never leaving his granddaughter as he saw the magnitude of his actions through her eyes. He had spent a small fortune on toys that he thought might arouse Leah’s interest, but none of them had ever been played with. He had spent more time on the computer than at any other time in his life, researching the diagnosis and searching the internet for stories of miracles like the one he prayed for. He had read storybooks with no clear sign that Leah was even listening, hoping that one day she would surprise them all with the extent of her vocabulary. He had never been anything but a big, ole teddy bear in the presence of his granddaughter, and to know that her most decisive communicative act to date was a terrified reaction to his inexcusable actions did not settle well with him.
Grant smiled as he moved toward Leah. He took her in his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Uncle Grant is fine.” He cooed as he stole kisses from her cheek. “Who loves you?”
Leah raised her head and moved her hand to her heart. As she made the letter G with her fingers, tears filled Grant’s eyes. He caught a glimpse of Melissa and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Grant,” Randy gulped. “I’m sorry; I’m sorry for all of it.” He faced Melissa as he rested his hand on David’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t frighten Leah for anything in this world,” he uttered.
“It’s okay, Dad,” David shook his head.
“I mean it,” Randy reiterated. “I’m sorry.”
“Grant’s having a rough time with this move,” Melissa sighed. “He said things out of frustration that he probably shouldn’t have said, but…”
