Moments - Part I - Chapter 3: Secrets

Fast forward a few years and Jack and I were in the third grade. We were the best of friends by now, inseparable really, and he spent nearly every waking moment with my family at our house. That’s not to say he didn’t go home. He went home most school nights at this point to sleep in a bed—with three children, my parents didn’t have a spare room, let alone a bed, for Jack to sleep in. When he spent the night, we slept in sleeping bags on the ground. But, after three years of friendship, Jack was like a son to my parents and a brother to my siblings. My brother was now in fifth grade and my sister, Bo, was in kindergarten.

One morning, my parents’ three biological children were eating breakfast when a knock was heard at the door. My father, who had only a meeting that day at noon, for once got to eat breakfast with us before we went off to school. He got up and answered the door to find Jack standing outside on the porch in Chicago in winter as snow fell in only a pair of too short jeans and a baggy t-shirt, no shoes in sight.

“Jack?!”my father exclaimed, as he scooped Jack up and brought him inside, sitting him on the couch. “What are you thinking, leaving the house like that? You could get pneumonia or frostbitten dressed like that. Where are your shoes? Where is your coat? Don’t you have any clothes that fit right?”

At my father’s shouts of concern, the rest of us piled into the living room as Jack answered his questions. “My coat and shoes are too small and I simply can’t squeeze into them anymore and my dad hasn’t gotten around to getting me a new coat or pair of shoes yet because they’re just too expensive. And clothes, well, Mr. Grayson, clothes are also expensive. And we just don’t have the money. So I just wear a mix of my old kid clothes and my dad’s hand-me-downs.”

“Alex, Will,” my dad said, “take Jack upstairs and give him some clothes, shoes, a coat to borrow for school today. And after school, we’ll go shopping, get you a warm coat, a pair of shoes, and a few outfits. Okay?” 

Jack’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to do that, Mr. Grayson!”

My mom put a hand on his shoulder and said, “But we want to, darling. Go on, boys, or you’ll be late.”

Jack couldn’t wear my jeans or shoes because he was a few inches taller than me, so he had to wear Will’s jeans and hightop sneakers. But I lent him my favorite t-shirt and my new winter coat because I could still fit into my coat from last year. I also gave him my winter hat to keep his ears warm.

“Thank you,” he said to us. 

Will just shrugged and ran back downstairs. I said, “You’re welcome!”

Jack said, “ We should go or we’ll be late.” And we went. 

After school, my parents kept their promise to Jack and took him shopping. They bought him six pairs of pants and six shirts to go with them, a pair of shoes and a six pack of socks (just in case), a winter coat, a pair of mittens, and a winter hat. And Jack kept thanking them and telling them it was unnecessary. But he went home with clothes that fit and a coat to keep him warm. 

However, the next day, a Saturday, which, being the weekend, was one of my dad’s off days, Jack came over to my house, during breakfast, looking and wearing something very similar to what he had been the previous morning.

“Jack?” my father looked confused. “What happened to the clothes we bought you? Why aren’t you wearing them?”

Jack looked lost and like he was about to cry. “I don’t know,” was all he said.

“Jack, come on,” my father said, not believing him.

“I don’t know!” Jack told him.

“Jack, look, whatever happened, we’re not gonna be mad. We just want to know because it isn’t safe or healthy for you to not have weather-appropriate clothes. It’s too cold to be walking around without a coat, honey. We don’t want you to get sick,” my dad told him.

That seemed to work. Jack said softly, “My dad threw it out.”

“What? Why?” my dad asked.

Jack replied, again quietly, “He said we don’t take charity.”

“He said that to you?” My dad, though he was always a calm, cool, and collected guy who rarely got angry, I could tell that that morning, he was livid. He hid it pretty well, I assume so Jack wouldn’t think he was angry at him. 

“Uh huh,” Jack said. “Are you mad?”

My dad looked down to find Jack’s big brown eyes staring up at him, looking fearful.

He answered, “Yes, but not at you.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to stay here and eat something. I’ll be right back.” 

“Where are you going?” Jack asked. “Why can’t I go? Are you mad at me?”

My dad looked sadly down at the small boy who had followed him to the door. “No, sweetheart, I’m not mad at you. I swear I’m not mad at you. You just can’t go because you don’t have the appropriate footwear, okay?” Now, looking back, knowing where he went, I know that that last part was a lie for Jack’s sake. 

“Okay,” Jack told him.

“Come on into the kitchen, sweetie,” my mom called to him and he followed her to the food, which he sadly inhaled very quickly, not taking a break to breathe.

So, my dad once told me what happened that day and what he did, so I’ll try to recap it as best I can. Basically, my dad’s goal was to confront Jack’s dad and get some answers. He drove to Jack’s trailer and knocked on his door. No answer, so he kept knocking until someone threw it open. A man, bigger in muscle but not in height than my dad, answered the door.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked, a can of beer in his hand.

“My name’s Peter Grayson. My kid is your son’s best friend. You’ve got a good kid,” my dad said.

“Thanks,” he said, cockily. 

“I’m not finished,” my dad said. “I’m not sure how much of him being a good kid is due to your parenting style. Every day, he comes to my house, dressed in almost nothing, certainly not dressed for the weather. So, my wife and I took him out and bought him a new coat and some other things. And today? He says he doesn’t know what happened to it.”

“What happened to it was I threw it out. We don’t need your pity! I can take care of my kid without your help!” he said.

“Well, you’re doing a bang up job,” my dad muttered.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means that a parent is supposed to take care of their kid before their pride. It means that a parent doesn’t choose their own ego before the care and safety of their child. It means that a parent doesn’t throw away a brand new coat given to their kid to wear in ten below weather just to make a statement. It means that a parent accepts help if they need it, if their child needs it. And, above all, a parent never puts themselves before their child. Your child always comes first. And a parent loves their child enough to do that,” my dad told him.

“So what’s your point, Grayson?” he growled.

“My point is that I don’t like you and, frankly, I think you’re selfish. But your kid is my kid’s best friend and everyone in my family loves your kid and wants the best for him. So, no matter how I much I dislike you, I care about the wellbeing of your son more. So I’m willing to put up with you. Because that’s what a parent does, Mr. Harlem.”

Before he could say anything else, my dad turned and walked to his car. Before he got in, he called back, “I want you to know, we’re buying Jack another coat. And if you throw that out, I’m calling CPS.” And my father got in his car and drove home.

Unfortunately, my dad’s advice didn’t seem to go far with Jack’s dad considering Jack didn’t show up to school on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. I remember being worried but I was also eight, so I got distracted pretty easily. But, with Jack being my best friend, when I didn’t see him by Sunday night, I started to get anxious. So, I decided to talk to my dad about it.

I went downstairs after my parents had put all of us kids to bed. My father was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper. “Dad?” I asked. “Can I talk to you about something?”

 My father looked over at me. “Of course, Al. Come on, sit down. What’s on your mind?”

I sat down next to him. “It’s Jack.”

 My father cleared his throat. “What about Jack?”

“He wasn’t at school all week and he hasn’t come over all weekend. And he always comes over. Do you think he’s okay?” I asked.

My father looked perturbed and then said to me, “Okay, look, Al, wait until tomorrow. If he’s still not at school tomorrow, we’ll go over to his place when I get home from work to check on him. Sound like a plan?”

“Okay, Dad,” I said. “Good night.”

 “Good night, bud. I love you,” he said and then he sighed. Now I realize that sigh was because he was as worried about Jack as I was.

But, fortunately, Jack was at school the following morning. “Where have you been?!” I asked excitedly as soon as I saw him.

“I was visiting some family up in New York,” he told me. 

“Cool,” I said naively. “Well, it’s sure been boring around here without you.”

He smiled at that. “Well, last week was pretty boring without you.”

 “That’s hard to believe,” I told him. “You were in New York.”

“Yeah, but my best friend wasn’t,” he said, smiling a bit melancholically. 

“Well, tell me everything!” I told him.

He smiled, “Maybe later.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

While Jack was my best friend, I was still young and didn’t know him well enough yet after only three years. I didn’t notice the wince as he sat down. I didn’t notice him guarding his left side. I didn’t notice he had lied to me before. I didn’t notice that he didn’t go to New York. I didn’t notice he’d spent the week in the hospital. I didn’t notice he had four broken ribs. And I didn’t notice his father had pushed him down and kicked him repeatedly, not even stopping as his eight year old son cried from the pain. I didn’t know Jack as well as I thought. At this point, I don’t think I really knew him at all.

 

Tags: Sad, Humor, Depressing, Hope, Dark,