The Deepest Blue (30 page)

“I tried to reach out to you,” she says, her voice
straining as if she's trying to make it sound like she's crying. “I spent thousands of dollars I didn't have to find you.”

“Why is it always about money for you?” I ask.

She makes a noise almost like a growl. “Your father kept you hidden from me. He isolated you and lied to you so you would grow up hating me, and obviously it worked!” She is practically screaming at me, but I keep my voice low.

“My dad never tried to stop me from having a relationship with you. You did that yourself. You hung up on me. You called me a brat. You called me a parasite. My dad didn't have to lie to me and teach me not to love you. I figured out who and what you are all by myself.” The words bypass my brain and roll straight out of my heart. I let out a deep sigh and wait for the barrage of insults and lies I'm sure are about to fly at me.

“You disappoint me, Michael.” There is emotion in Julia's voice, but it sounds hollow and as fake as the laughter coming from the TV in the background.

I pause for a moment, but then the truth finds its way out. “You can't disappoint me anymore, because I won't let you.” I disconnect and put the phone back on the base.

“What did she want?”

I stand by the hallway, unsure where to move or what to do. “She wanted to tell me I can't visit because she doesn't want me to poison her son like my dad poisoned me.” The words feel odd coming out of me, strange and uncomfortable—and a little sad. “She said I disappoint her.”

“You disappoint her?”

“I told her she was the one who poisoned me,” and I realize that Maggie had been looking at me the whole time, so she knew what I'd said. “I did love her,” I said, my voice softer and more gentle. “I tried very hard to keep loving her, too.”

“That's because you're a very loving person, Mike, and you were just a little boy then. You know you didn't do anything wrong. Right?”

I nod, and I really do know it's the truth, but maybe for a long time I believed I wasn't a good kid and that's why she didn't like me. “I didn't do anything wrong,” I say, and I let the truth of it weave around me and through me.

“Come here, Mike,” Maggie says in an exhausted voice.

I sit next to her, ready to be bawled out for taking out the boat, for losing my temper, for mouthing off at Chuck, and for whatever other sins I committed without knowing it. “Whatever it is I did,” I say, “I'm sorry.” I figure it's better to get it done up front and maybe soften the blow a little.

“You don't need to say you're sorry, sweetie,” she says. “After the week we've had, I'm surprised one of us hasn't been arrested or shipped off to the loony bin.” She takes a sip of soda. The glass is slick with condensation.

I rock my head from side to side, trying to loosen the muscles that are bunched up defensively there. “What's up,” I say. My neck strains, and my face tenses in a mix of pain and relief. I wait for whatever she's going to say to me. I don't care if she's mad, or sad, or whatever. I'm tired, and all I want is to sleep for a week and figure out
the rest later. I sit beside her and wait for what's coming.

“I know that what we got wasn't perfect,” Maggie says. “But we were never going to have perfect, anyway. You know that, right?”

Rocket noses in between us and sits on my feet. I pet his head and rub his ears. “I know,” I say. I want to add a “but” in there, but I think better of it. The weight of time and too many emotions is pulling my body down and making me feel paralyzed.

“So now we have to figure out how we go forward from here. We have to figure out how we're going to be a family, just you and me.”

“And Rocket,” I say. He thumps his tail on my feet, and Maggie reaches over to rub his nose.

“And Rocket,” she says.

“And Dad,” I add.

Maggie nods. “In his own way.”

“And what do we do with the boat?”

“That's a subject for another night,” she says.

I wait for what is coming next, but Maggie is silent.

We sit like this, Rocket between us, Dad present somewhere in the room, and nothing being said. It is dark outside, but the rain has slowed. Finally we stand, and I make my way to my room, slip into a T-shirt and my boxers, and crawl into bed. Rocket hops up with me, curls up by my feet, and begins softly snoring. The cool sheets and the faint smell of rain-soaked pine comfort me. It feels like home. My eyes close on their own, and I sink into the darkness and let it wrap around me.

I find myself on the deck of the
Mighty Mike,
the sun beating down but a cool breeze lifting off the water. I call out for my dad, but he doesn't answer. I look all over the boat, but he isn't there.

But I can feel him. I move up to the bow and look over the edge into the deepest part of the water. It fades from clear, to pale blue, to the deepest blue, and I can just see his face. The breeze stops, and the water turns to glass. I can see him as plain as if he were right in front of me.

“I wanted to go with you,” I say. “I almost wanted the boat to sink so I could be with you.”

I can hear his voice, feel it resonating in my head and in my chest. “I'm glad you didn't.”

“But I miss you, Dad,” I say, and it is my five-year-old voice that sounds scared and lonely.

“I'm right here, son.”

I turn and there is Dad, standing behind me. He is alive and perfect, except for the long, white scar that curves across his nose and back toward his scalp. I reach out for him, eyes closed and arms wide, and I feel him, warm and strong, close to me, moving through me. When I open my eyes, he is gone. The ache in my body is so strong that I turn back to the water and prepare myself to dive in. I will allow the water to close in over my head, pulling me down, and then I will inhale, taking the salty liquid deep into my lungs. I'll sink down until I can't see the boat, or the sky, or the surface anymore.

“No, son.” I hear in my head again.

I look everywhere, but I can't see him. “Please,” I beg.
“I miss you so much.
Please
let me come with you.”

I feel the warmth again. “You
are
with me. You will
always
be with me. No one can take you from me. No one can take me from you.”

I smell the salty mist from the breeze mingled with the pines. I can sense Rocket beside me and Dad close by. I'm crying again, and I know I'm dreaming, but I don't care. I feel a calmness move through me, feel Dad's voice vibrate in my head and in my heart.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, son.”

Rocket thumps his tail on the bed. Finally, I let myself fall into the deepest sleep.

The End

acknowledgments

Special Thanks:

To Mike, for your unending patience and support of my dream, even when it isn't easy to believe.

To Amanda, for your music, your humor, and your awesome T-Rex impersonation.

To Carson and Emery, for showing me the wonderful and complicated minds of teenage boys, and for helping to bring Michael to life. Your insights were invaluable, and the assistance you gave me helped to tell a story that I believe in with my whole heart.

To Peggy, for seeing in this story what I saw when I wrote it, and for always believing in my ability to do better and to go deeper.

about the author

Author Kim Williams Justesen is a Salt Lake City native who now lives in Sandy, Utah. In third grade she wrote her first book,
A Pony of My Own
, and then wrote a book report about it. Her amazing teacher, Mrs. Saenz (now Shirley Lohnes), saw promise in the work and encouraged Kim to consider being a writer. Mrs. Saenz also made Kim choose a book from the library and write a new book report.

Kim earned a B.A. in English from Westminster College and an M.F.A. in Writing from Vermont College. She spent twelve years as a writer in the advertising and public relations field, has written for various Internet sites including
City Search
and
Utah Parent,
and has taught
numerous English and creative writing courses at local colleges for more than 15 years. Many of her former students have gone on to become published writers themselves. Her first novel,
Kiss Kiss Bark,
was published in 2006 by Tanglewood Press.

When she isn't writing, Kim enjoys movies, snow shoeing, and knitting. One of her favorite things in the entire world, however, is sitting down to enjoy a good book with some really good chocolate nearby.