Gus’ heart pounded through his whole body, from his chest out to his temples and the very tips of his fingers. He looked at his phone again, the words staring up at him. “On my way. ETA forty-two minutes.” The text had arrived just over half an hour ago, and Gus hadn’t moved a muscle since then.
His apartment wasn’t pristine, by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d tended it carefully over the past ten days. He’d bleached his toilet and wiped off the blades of the ceiling fans. He’d changed the sheets on his bed and purchased a cheap used fold out couch bed online. He still wasn’t quite sure where Theo was going to sleep—would it be weird to offer to sleep in the living room for the semester? He didn’t want Theo to think he was being an overprotective Guard Dad? But he also wanted better for his boy than some other family’s junk bed that they sold for pennies just to get rid of it?
He’d just ask when the boy got here. It would be easier that way.
Not boy. Man. He was twenty-one years old. Almost as old as Gus had been when he’d met Victoria. Such a long time ago. Lives and lives ago, or so it felt.
The knock on the door came quietly. Hesitant. Unsure of its place.
Gus froze. He willed his legs to stand up, his arms to open the door, but they refused.
He knocked again, louder. “Dad? Are you in there?” Gus heard a shuffle-step followed by a murmur. “Do I have the wrong apartment?”
Finally, with a monumental effort, Gus launched himself off the couch and walked toward the door. He let his footsteps fall loudly so that Theo could hear him. His hand shook on the doorknob, but he swung the door open just the same.
The face that greeted him looked intimately familiar and eerily foreign all at the same time: almost-but-not-quite a carbon copy of his own at that age, wearing his ex-wife’s timid smile.
“Hey Dad,” Theo said quietly. “I was worried I had the wrong place. Glad you heard me knocking.”
“Of course, bud. Come on in, come on in.” Gus stepped out of the doorway and ushed Theo into the living room. He rolled a small suitcase behind him, which he placed next to the couch. He dropped his backpack on the floor and looked around.
“Do you do shoes in the house?” It was such a specific question that Gus hesitated a moment before responding.
“Oh, no, no, that’s fine, whatever you’re comfortable with is fine. I don’t care.” He gestured to the couch, and Theo took a seat. “Can I get you a glass of water or anything?”
“I’m okay. Thanks.” He pulled out his phone and buried his nose in it.
Gus cleared his throat. “How… how was your flight?”
Theo didn’t respond immediately, and Gus’ stomach dropped. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, determined not to give into the rage building in his chest.
“What did you say, Dad?” Theo’s voice cut through the tension, blissfully unaware of it. “Sorry, just texting Mom to let her know I got here safely.”
Damn if he wasn’t a good kid after all. Victoria was a lot of things Gus didn’t like, but a bad mother she was not.
“Just asked how your flight was.”
“Oh, fine. Nothing exciting.” He shrugged. “How have you been?”
Such a loaded question. Gus weighed the options in his mind—brushing past the slump he was in felt dishonest, an inauspicious start to the semester, but total transparency about the depth of his depression felt like coming on too strong, too soon. “I just started a new case, actually. So hopefully things will pick up soon. It’s been a while since I had something to work on.”
Theo nodded. “I know you can’t talk about the case, but…” He didn’t finish his sentence.
“Yeah, you know the rules. Sorry, kiddo.” Gus felt his cheeks flush. He hadn’t meant to let his old moniker for his son slip.
But Theo smiled, just for a moment, before looking down at his suitcase. “Well, I think I’m going to go ahead and hit the hay. My internship onboarding day is tomorrow, and I want to make sure I’m ready.”
“Of course, of course,” Gus said. “There’s only one bedroom in this place, but you’re welcome to it. Otherwise, the couch pulls out. I’m usually out around 6:50 to make my bus.”
Theo paused. “If you really don’t mind, I’ll take the bed. The clinic where I’m working isn’t far from here, so I probably won’t be leaving until 7:30.”
“Of course. It’s upstairs. The bathroom is stocked with everything in case you want to take a shower tonight.”
He stood up, and Theo did the same. “Thanks, Dad. It’s good to see you.”
Gus felt his shoulders relax. “It’s good to see you, too, son. I can’t wait to hear about your first day at work.”
Theo was already halfway up the stairs, unaware of the turmoil in his father’s voice. Gus watched him until he disappeared, still in shock that the whole thing had come to pass, and so quickly. He pulled the squeaky mattress out of the new couch, grabbed a blanket and pillow from under the coffee table, and flicked off the lights. Although he expected to toss and turn for hours, he slipped into a still slumber right away.
-
Gus was all the way at the office before he remembered that Theo—his son, his precious boy—had been asleep upstairs when he’d left for work. There had been nothing in the apartment for breakfast. Barely anything to pack for lunch but a mostly-empty package of lunch meat and the last sliver of a block of cheese. Gus panicked. How was he supposed to handle being a roommate with his adult son? Were they going to split groceries or split space in the fridge? Would Theo have expected fanfare and much rejoicing on his first morning? What would Victoria have done?
No, Gus told himself. No need to go down that path. He’d never win when she was in the competition.
He shoved the thought down and opened his laptop. The first thing he saw was an email from his client, subject line “Got eeeeeeeem”.
Gus shook his head. Stupid millenials and their stupid internet culture. Can’t even write a professional email anymore. But he opened the email anyway. A short message from the client and two attachments. Mugshots.
Classy.
“I hate this guy,” Gus growled.
He couldn’t look away from the headshots. If there was ever a doubt in Gus’ mind that a picture really was worth a thousand words, headshots forced him to relent. Every detail—the defiant tilt of the mouth, the worry lines on the forehead, the fire in the eyes—drew him in. These two were no different.
The resemblance between the two was obvious. They shared the same high forehead, strong nose, dark hair. Well, okay, Senior’s hair was salt-and-pepper gray, but the parallel remained.
Where they differed interested Gus more than their similarities. Senior’s expression was unflinching. He made direct eye contact with the camera, his eyes daring Gus to defy him. For a still image, there was a shocking sense that he was raising one eyebrow ever so slightly. He’d been booked in a white coat and a navy button-down, and he carried himself with the rod-straight back of a soldier. The son, on the other hand, looked tired: purple under the eyes, shoulders slumped. His hair was standing straight up in the front, not styled that way. Gus closed his eyes and imagined the young man running his fingers through his hair without thinking about it. What had caused him so much stress? From what he’d read, it had sounded like he’d been a willing accomplice in his father’s drama for some time.
But McDowell had mentioned that he might be up for a plea deal, so perhaps there was more to… Gus glanced down at the sign in the man’s hands… Jude Pierucci, Jr. than met the eyes.
Gus closed the attachments and responded to the agent to let him know that he’d get the case added to docket for the next available grand jury date. “Time to get to work.”
There was no question as to whether the case would move forward, but Gus still wanted to make sure he had all his ducks in a row. He wandered over to the work room and pulled a clean composition notebook from the stack that Marty had carefully organized. He poked around until he found a couple other desk goodies (a clipboard, a sharpie, a couple pens, sticky notes, the whole nine yards) and walked back to his office with his hands full.
An essential part of the getting the ducks in a row process was the new supplies.
Obviously.
Gus uncapped the sharpie, took a deep breath, and wrote carefully on the front of the notebook, “State of Texas vs.” but then hesitated, trying to remember who all was implicated and named in the complaint. He settled on “vs. Pierucci, et al.” for now.
He copied the same words on the first page of the notebook, pressing the cover down so it stayed open. The first days of a new case book were always so satisfying, before the chaos and drama started and the notebook became a messy, functional tool.
On the second page, the relevant contact information for Robert McDowell, the agent filing the case, and a few blank spaces for important upcoming dates. Gus wrote himself a sticky note to print a photocopy of the original complaint to include in the notebook…
It felt good. Mechanical, comforting almost, just copying down facts. Leaving space for information he didn’t have yet. Create a place for everything and, eventually, everything would be in its place.
Glancing up from his paper, Gus shook his hand and massaged out a cramp. His eyes fell on the picture day photo of Theo. It was astonishing to see in this young child the foreshadowing of who his son had become as a man.
Would it be weird, he asked himself, to have Theo send him a more recent photo to replace this one in his desk frame? Or better yet, to take a picture of them together?
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping a couple quarters in my digital typewriter case!
You’re reading What I Have Failed To Do, a serialized first-draft from Sara Dietz at Blinking Blue Line. If you’re new ‘round these parts, welcome! If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read, I’d love to have you stick around.
And if you’re in the mood for your next favorite story, check out my crime/medical thriller, Remembrance, or my fantasy-quest serialized novella, The Ravenswing Report.
the tension between father and son is palpable it made me uncomfortable! lovelove how this is going!
STICKY NOTES. I love 'em. I love the character description in this: change a few variables and I could've been Gus, I think, so this resonates.