The Probability of Violet and Luke

Chapter 14

Luke

I watch her sleep for most of the night. Thinking. My head so cluttered I can barely breathe. By the time I’m actually finished the sun is coming up and I’ve had absolutely no sleep whatsoever. It’s been that way for the last couple of months and between that and the drinking, I’m starting to feel the effects of it on my body. Constantly tired, I wonder how I’m ever going to survive football season if I don’t get my act together.

My act together. It seems like I have so much to do before that can ever be possible, but as I lie here looking at Violet asleep in my arms, I want to do it more than anything.

As the sun rises higher and lights up the room, I decide to take the first step, even though I don’t want to at all. I begrudgingly get out of bed and grab my phone to make a call I never thought I could make in a million years. But the alternative, staying here until I can figure something else out, isn’t something I want to do anymore.

It’s still early in California, but my dad answers after three rings. “Luke, is everything okay?”

I swear to God it’s like he knows I need something. “Not really.” I pause, waiting for him to say something but he doesn’t as I stare out the window. “Look, I need a favor…. I need to borrow some money.” If he turns me down again, I don’t think I can ever ask him for anything.

“Okay.” He already sounds wary. “How much do you need?”

I glance over my shoulder as Violet stirs in the bed, then make my way over to the bathroom attached to the room and go inside so I don’t wake her up. “Nine grand.”

He lets out a slow, low whistle. “Shit, Luke. That’s a lot of money.”

“I know it is.” I shut the door, recline against it, and slide to the floor. “I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t an emergency.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“You could say that.” I hesitate, not sure I want to tell him, not wanting to give him the right of knowing me yet, but then suddenly there’s all this pressure inside my chest and it explodes without warning. Everything comes pouring out of me. And not just the gambling part. I tell him how much I drink. What happened between Violet and I. Everything my mom did. Even what I found in Amy’s journal. And by the end I’m crying, like a scared little boy. It makes me feel so pathetic. So weak. So out of control, like when I lived with my mother, and part of me hates myself, but the other part feels relieved, like I can breathe again.

“Luke, we’re going to fix this,” my dad says after I finally stop sobbing long enough for him to speak again.

“You can’t fix it,” I say, sucking back the tears. “Not most of it anyway.”

“Well, I’m going to fix what I can,” he tells me so calmly. I don’t even know how he’s doing it. I just piled on twenty years of baggage onto him and he’s cool as can be. “And the rest we’ll figure out together.” He pauses as if he’s collecting himself. “The first thing I’m going to do is wire you the money. You can head back to Laramie and it should be there by the time you get there. Then you’ll pay back this Geraldson guy.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “And then what?”

“And then I want you to come visit me,” he says and before I can protest, he adds, “Just for a week, so we can talk and maybe get to know each other a little bit better... I’d like to get to know my son.”

“You think talking is going to help?” I question skeptically. “Because I’m not so sure.”

“I think it’s a step… and if you’ll let me, I’d like to take that step with you and hopefully more steps.” He sighs. “I know I haven’t been there for you and I can’t make up for the past.” Now he sounds like he’s choking up. “But I’d like to try my damn hardest. You just need to let me try.”

“I have football practice starting in a couple of weeks,” I say. “And classes. It’s hard for me to go somewhere right now.”

“Can you take some time off?” he asks, hopeful. “Just a week or so.”

“I hate taking time off. And I’ve already missed more than I’m comfortable with.” I’m being a pain in the ass, still uneasy about the whole thing. Well, more like frightened. When I was younger, it was all I thought about all those times during the needles, hugs, petting, madness. That he would come back and save me, but he never did and I nearly rotted to death in that house. And now, it’s hard to let that all go.

“Then I’ll come to you,” he insists determinedly. “If you say it’s okay, I’ll fly out there and see you.”

I run my hand over my head, letting out a stressed breath. “How long would you stay?”

“As long as you want me to,” he replies. “I’d take a few hours at this point.”

“That’s a far flight for a couple of hours.”

“No, it’s not.” The way he says it makes me want to cry again, but I suck the tears back before they spill out.

“Fine, you can come out if you want.” I push myself to my feet. “And you can stay for a few days.”

It takes him a second to respond and when he finally does, I can tell he’s crying but trying not to let me hear it. “Good. I’m so glad. I’m so, so glad.”

It feels so strange and unbelievable, letting stuff go that I’ve been carrying around forever. I just hope that it all works out, but I’m not holding my breath just yet.