Cruise Control by Terry Trueman Page A

reading my mind. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve acted shitty. I’m a human being, Paul, and sometimes not a very good one.”
    I don’t know what to say—he’s never apologized to me before. I sit quiet. I wish he’d just leave.
    â€œPaul,” Dad says gently, his voice almost a whisper, “I know this is hard for you, sitting here with me. I’m asking you to just give me a couple minutes to try and explain—”
    I don’t know what he’s talking about. I ask, “Explain what?”
    Dad pauses a second and looks me in the eye. “I never abandoned you or your brother. I know that to you my leaving felt like abandonment, but the truth is I think about you guys every day, every day —trying to figure out how to help, how best to take care of Shawn and all of you.”
    I feel my face get red, not really anger as much as some weird kind of confusion. “You still left, Dad. You still walked out. You may think about us but you’re not here .”
    Dad looks me in the eye. “I know, Paul. I’m sorry. I mean that—I’m truly sorry. I was a mess before your mother sent me away. I’m better now, but back then, I was just so tired all the time—”
    I interrupt. “Mom sent you away, but did that mean you had to go?”
    Dad says, “I’m not blaming her, Paul. She’s great. But she and I talked a lot after we realized how bad Shawn’s problems were, and your mom knew even before I did that we couldn’t handle it in the same ways. This isn’t an excuse, Paul—I left because of my cowardice and my weakness. But your mom knew that I needed to go, that she couldn’t take care of both Shawn and me.”
    Dad pauses a second, then says, “Paul, I haven’t abandoned this family. I haven’t abandoned your brother, believe me; I love him every bit as much as I love you and your sister. I’m constantly thinking about what I can do, what I should do, what I might have to do to take care of him. But whatever I do with Shawn, he’s not your responsibility.”
    I think, Of course you’d say that! But I remember that Mom said this too. I feel a rush of emotion, a weird mix of sadness and happiness. I don’t know what to say, but somehow, listening to Dad’s words, I feel a huge weight lift off me. Dad is speaking straight into my heart, and his words take away a terrible pressure.
    Dad puts his arm around me and pulls me close to him. I haven’t touched him or been touched by him in too many years to remember, not since I was little and he used to lift me up and swing me around and carry me upstairs to bed and tuck me in and kiss me good night and say, “See you in the morning, Pauly—I love you.” And in his arms again now, I close my eyes and all those little-kid feelings of safety wash back over me again.
    We sit quietly for a while.
    Finally I look at Dad and say, “I don’t know what to do, Dad....What should I do?”
    Dad answers right away. “For yourself, start making plans for college.” He pauses a second. “For me? Well, you know what I want. You know what I always want.”
    Yeah, I know, and I have to admit, it actually feels okay to hug him back. Even though it’s been a long time, it still feels familiar.
    Dad says, “Whatever you decide to do, Paul, I’ll support you one hundred percent. You’re old enough to know what’s best for yourself. But remember, whatever happens, Shawn is your mother’s and my responsibility, not yours. All you have to do is try to love him as best you can.”
    I can’t forgive my dad; it’s too confusing. It’s too much to think about, too much to feel. All these years I’ve been mad at Dad, but mostly I realize that I’ve been mad at myself, mad and ashamed at how I felt about my brother. My dad just did what I’ve wished I could do a