Putting the Pieces Together part II

Get Up by Caitlin Canty

One month later in Plattsburgh, New York

Jay

"Hey pal," I say as I hear Liam shuffle my way in the dimness of the kitchen. I also hear the clattering of the dog's nails right behind him. "Can't sleep?" I ask.

"Thirsty," he says as he fills up a cup from the faucet. The bottom of his pajama pants drag on the floor as he comes over to sit next to me at the island.

I'm sure he was aware that I was up. There is a cup in the bathroom upstairs, he didn't need to come down. We've been in Plattsburgh, New York for a few weeks now and it doesn't seem as foreign as it initially did. Taking two city kids out of the city is an adjustment. This hamlet is a small one of approximately 20,000 just twelve miles from the Canadian border, where I do much of my work. It is an hour from Montreal and five to New York City, where Liam has already talked me into taking him for spring break.

The house is nice, updated. It has been used as a safe house in the past and has three bedrooms, two stories and a big fenced-in backyard along with a two-car garage. All new experiences for a kid that has only known apartments. The kitchen has an island, new appliances, all the cookware and dishes we need. Newer furniture included most of it comfortable. There is a fireplace in the living room, and I have already bought wood in preparation for the cold winter nights. The rent they are charging me is a fraction of what I paid in Chicago.

Liam, of course took full advantage of the move and new school stress to ask if we could get a dog. I told him this was a temporary assignment, and it wouldn't be a good idea. But we went to the shelter anyway, and two days later were fostering a dog who just couldn't handle kennel life. Somehow, I felt like I was suckered, that he had already asked around and was aware of this program. So only forty-eight hours after I was trying to quash the idea, we came home with a blue pit bull with a splash of white on her chest. She had scars on her huge block head as well as her chest from previous battles in life. But she also had a tail that couldn't be happier, adorable floppy ears, and she squints her eyes in excitement when she first sees you. She has adjusted to our house with surprising ease. I knew I owed Liam this much. He had always wanted a pet. I had nearly gotten him a guinea pig when he was nine, but decided I didn't have enough energy to ensure he took care of it and didn't feel right dumping more responsibilities on the sitter.

But Windy, because she was found on a windy day, was a foster and if we left town, we could return her to the shelter in the hopes that she could find another foster home. Or a forever family as they call it. But I think she already found her forever family. She is pretty much perfect. She's little trouble, housebroken, and just wants to be around you, but at the same isn't that intrusive. Her scars are on the outside, ours are on the inside. Well, I guess mine are both. I only hoped that Liam was still relatively scar-free. But in regard to the dog, we would just have to figure out whatever the future might bring. But apparently it would include a dog. I haven't told Liam yet, but somehow, I think he already knows. Besides, as Liam pointed out when we first met her, that it must be fate, a dog named Windy living with two Windy City natives.

She splits her time at night between Liam and me. I know when I must be restless because I wake up to dog breath inches from my face. But her presence brings on a better night's sleep than I would have had otherwise. If I have a good night, then she curled up or stretched out next to Liam. I had a no dog in the bed policy; it didn't even last for one day. I look down at her, where she is sprawled on the floor, her head down on her paws, her eyes looking up at me. Her tail thumps the floor and I resist the urge to lean down and scratch her ears. All this from a guy who was never much of animal lover.

I would be lying if I said this change of scenery fixed everything, because it didn't. It is better, the days go well, new experiences, new scenery, different pressures. I'm a federal employee with great perks and the responsibility to go with it. It's an odd position and really has no specific description. The simple answer is that I try to keep drugs coming in from Canada and throw anyone who dares try into prison or use them to go up the chain to the really bad guy. The money is good and goes much further here. I'm home nearly every night before six and Liam and I cook dinner together. Most weekends are free, and we have scouted out much of the area and have gone hiking a few times. I haven't been called out late or extremely early. I haven't had any all-night stakeouts. I haven't had work follow me everywhere, or worse, follow Liam.

I have people to delegate to. The pace is slower. The cases simpler and so much less. The adrenaline flow is manageable. The past several weeks has been the longest that I haven't been shot at or had to un-holster my weapon. That has to be a good thing. I know that I can't run and hide from my past, but if the present is easier to deal with, then perhaps I can address my past. The past that will forever tug at me. That will always hold a part of me hostage. I still often think, "what would Voight do" then I realize I need to ask, "what would I do" and make my own choices. It's hard to reshape what had so quickly come to be second nature. The point of being here is to break free, so what a waste if I don't succeed.

Liam sits down next to me and slurps his water. He looks tired and we still both look sorely out of place in this rugged and rural area. Overall, he is doing well. Made a few friends at school. He's somewhat of a novelty as they don't get too many newcomers, and never from Chicago. In fact, he tells me some of the kids call him Chicago. He managed to grab a spot on the soccer team as they were a player short and scored a goal his first game. He can get around the school with ease as well as the city. Even when he has no idea where he is, he finds his way home. He does enjoy the freedom that comes with a small town. I feel okay about letting him explore on his own as long as he answers his phone and abides by his curfew; and he has done both. But neither of us has let go of our home sickness. I miss Hailey. He misses everyone. I know he called Will last night and talked for an hour. We both have this aura that sticks to us, not allowing us to completely fit in; at least not yet.

"Hard time sleeping?" I ask as he sets his water down.

"It's too quiet here to sleep. I told Marcy at school that and she laughed at me. Said it didn't make any sense."

"Not to them it doesn't. But we aren't used to the quiet, not this quiet anyway. There's probably an app for city noises." I tell him.

"Probably, but you won't let me have my phone at night."

"And for good reason." I remind him, knowing he would be all night, playing games, scrolling and surfing.

"I guess," he sighs.

"Is Marcy a friend?"

"Yeah, she's nice. She invited me to sit at her table at lunch on my first day."

"I'm sorry that you had to leave your friends behind." I tell him, the feeling genuine.

"Guess I couldn't bring them." He says pushing his glass around on the counter.

"I miss everyone too."

"Are you Hailey ever going to get back together?"

"One step at a time. I want you to know that she has been great for me and none of this is her fault."

He takes another sip of his water, possibly contemplating what I just said. "Marcy asked me to be a vampire at the Halloween haunted house on Saturday. I told her I could. But I have to have black pants and a white shirt. They have a cape and make-up and stuff."

"We can get you some. I have to buy some more shirts anyway." My jeans and t-shirt garb of the Intelligence Unit wasn't exactly embraced here. But I wasn't going in for the suit and tie route either. We compromised in the middle with nice jeans and button-down shirt or sweater. I just couldn't be at my best in dress shoes.

"Dad?"

"Yeah bud."

"Marcy asked me to the Harvest Dance. It's not a big deal or anything. Dressy casual, I think. I can probably wear the same black pants and white shirt."

"You want to go? Your first dance?" I ask him as I look over, a smile creeping to my lips.

"Yeah, I guess I do." He admitted. "She's nice. Her friends are nice."

I wonder how he grew up so fast and how I am not ready for this next step in his life. But here we are. "Hey, you know how much I love you right?"

"I do," he tells me quietly. "And clearly I love you a lot too as I sit here in this great house, but in this very small town, missing so much back home, but still oddly content."

"What do you miss?" I ask, knowing I was taking a huge chance at getting clobbered.

He sighs. "The noise, the diversity, the restaurants, the cityscape, the traffic as I walk down the sidewalk. The buildings all attached or close together creating a mix of textures and colors. The tall buildings hovering. The parks. The Bean. Knowing there is so much to do nearby whether I do it or not. How it feels like going on a walk because there is always something going on, something to see. My school. My friends. My uncle. The L. Lake Michigan. Home," he finishes.

"So not much huh?" I say as I look at him with a weak smile.

He sighs again and puts his hands on his water glass. "Everything but you."

I second-guess my decision about coming here. Maybe he would have been better off staying in the city while I went south. But I wouldn't have done well, and honestly, with his reaction in the park, I don't think he would have done so great either. He's twelve, he needs his father. Besides he has me over a barrel so-to-speak and is going to milk it for all it's worth. I get it, and I deserve it. I made my life a mess, left my wife for a job I didn't even discuss with her, manipulated her into staying with me while I try and figure it out, all while dragging my kid halfway across the country. He could order an ark of animals and there wouldn't be much I could deny.

I think back to my father and what I perceived to be a slight when his reaction was less than stellar as I told him I was joining the army. He appeared upset, told me not to do it. I took it as his disapproval in me. But now, looking through life with the eyes of a father, I can see that his discontent with my choice was most likely due to his concern for my safety and well-being. If I hadn't made the decisions I had, maybe I, or we, as I think of Liam, wouldn't be here. Maybe we wouldn't have endured everything from nightmares to poor judgment. But I did join. I did see more combat than I ever cared to. And not only am I in this place, but so is my son.

I open my mouth to say something when Liam speaks. "Did you know that me and my friends were going to sneak into Rosehill cemetery the weekend before Halloween?" He says speaking of a very old and very large cemetery on the Northside of Chicago.

"I did not know that."

"We weren't going to do anything, just walk around and stuff."

"And stuff? And what time was this adventure going to take place?" I question.

He shrugs. "After it closed, so it was dark. There's places you can sneak in."

"I see. How were you going to get there?"

"The L. I was going to hang out with Ricky at his grandparents' house in Uptown and we were going to go up from there. It's not far."

"What if I didn't let you go off with Ricky?"

"You would have. You like him, and besides you would have wanted a Saturday alone with Hailey." He says staring straight ahead as he realizes just how much has changed in just a few short weeks.

"Is there anything you like about living here?" I ask, feeling like he wants to talk since he brought up his disrupted plans. Something he knew I wouldn't approve of.

He sits and continues to stare at the wall. He takes a big drink and sets the glass back down gently. "I like the house and all the space it has. I like the backyard and being able to walk right out the door and be outside. The freedom is great. I don't need you chaperoning me everywhere. Riding my bike is cool. The short commute to school and that you can drop me off every morning. Hiking is fun. I like that you are home, and we make dinner together. I love Win." At the sound of her name, she thumps her tail and gets up and walks over to Liam and sticks her face against his leg. He pats her head with smooth strokes. "I like going on walks with her and you." He says speaking of our evening walks as we check out the neighborhood. "I like that I know you will walk in the door every night. Well, mostly. I mean you have a better chance of not getting hurt."

"Those are all good." I tell him but I wonder if it is enough, even with the last part.

"But there's no place else I could be, because you're here and if your here, then I'm here. No matter what."

"No matter what?" I question, looking over at him as he stares at his water glass before looking back at me.

"No matter what!" He emphasizes.

I manage a smile. "I miss home too. And I'm sorry I've screwed up your life. But I'm grateful we are getting to spend more time together. I think that's worth a lot."

"Maybe you could have found a different job in Chicago, one without Sarge." He offers as if he hadn't just declared being together here acceptable.

I wonder why he is thinking of Voight, what he has deduced. "The city has a way of chewing up all your time. You can see the difference from Chicago to here. Commutes are so much easier here." I think about asking about Voight, but don't.

"What did he do? Sarge?" He asks, not allowing me to avoid the topic.

"Nothing. What makes you think he did?"

"He came to say goodbye. Wanted you to stay. I know his phone wasn't broken before, when he stopped texting me. You didn't want him to did you? That FBI case had you mad at him didn't it."

"It was complicated."

"That's what adults always say when they don't want to talk about it. Kyle said Voight wanted Captain Casey dead and hired someone to kill him. Says he's a bad guy who does good things sometimes, not a good guy who does a few bad things."

"When did he say all this?"

"Some of it he told me a couple of years ago. Some more recently. I know he's a tough cop, but Kyle wouldn't lie to me and so I believe him. Did Sarge do something that made you leave?"

I was going to say it was complicated, because it was, but he had already called me out on that. "Relationships can have difficulties. There were some things we didn't agree on," I begin wondering how much to expose. "Then there were some things I wouldn't have agreed on last year, but we were beginning to be more united now."

"And you didn't like that?"

"No I didn't. I wasn't thinking for myself anymore."

"Then I'm glad we're here. You need to stay you, because you're the best at it. Come on Windy, let's go to bed."

And before I could move he and the dog disappeared up the stairs. "I'll be up to check on you in a few minutes," I call out after him.

"I don't need to be tucked in!" He yells back.

"Yeah, yeah," I tell myself quietly, but we both know that I will check on him, and we both know that despite his protest, he won't mind.

October alternated between dragging and flying by. I had a conference with his teachers who all had good things to say. He was adjusting well, his grades were fine, a pleasure to have in class. He was quiet, but not painfully so. The music teacher had discovered that he could play the drums, but Liam had refused to join the band. He was a vampire in the haunted house, and it was a success, both as an event and personally as he had a great time. He attended a Halloween party the weekend before the holiday but called me to get him earlier than he had to be home, saying he was bored, but wouldn't elaborate. On Halloween night he stayed home with me and handed out candy, despite my offers of finding him a costume so he could trick or treat. But he told me he was too old for that this year.

In early November he went with Marcy to the Harvest Dance, and I volunteered to chaperone which frustrated him, despite his efforts to hide it. He stayed as far away from me as he could the entire dance. I think he was so used to me being nowhere around that he was a little uncomfortable with my increased presence. They made a cute, albeit awkward couple. But then there wasn't a couple among them that wasn't awkward. I had forgotten how awful middle school was. But despite all these successes, or mostly successes, I still felt something was off. I knew he was still adjusting. I was still adjusting. But I felt like he was holding back, acting like everything was just great when it wasn't. Some days I feel as if he is creeping towards his normal, charismatic, smart-ass, mischievous self, then he seems to rein it back in again as if he is afraid to take that last step. And all I can think of is that he is doing it for me and I'm tired of him accommodating me. I feel like he has been doing it all of his life and it just isn't fair to him. This move terrified me, because if it didn't change things for the better then what other options were there? I'm doing my best every day, but it still doesn't feel right or good enough.

One night I woke up and discovered him in living room texting a friend; the one indiscretion he has committed thus far.

"What are you doing up?" I ask as I find him in the living room.

"I couldn't sleep and needed to check something on my phone and I noticed Ricky texted me, so I texted back."

"You both should be asleep," I tell him as I snap my fingers and wave for him to hand me the phone.

"Let me at least say goodbye," he says as he quickly taps the screen.

As soon as he hits send, I grab the phone. "Bed. Now!" I tell him. He gives me the preteen eye roll and purposely moves as slowly as possible. Windy, who we've taken to calling Win most of the time, looks back at me and helps shepherd him up the stairs. But secretly I was happy for this slight misbehavior as it felt like the old days for just a moment. Not that I applaud miscues, but they are a part of Liam that had been missing recently, and I felt that perhaps finally things were settling into a bit of normalcy.

I look at his phone as it vibrates and see that Liam had written: "Busted, gotta go, ttyl." Ricky had replied, "night dude."

Before I set it down I scroll down his contacts. I generally give him privacy on his texts. I often check for unusual apps or anything that doesn't look right, I know he would probably delete any texts he doesn't want me to see, as he is aware that I check his phone randomly.

I see a thread with Voight and click. It is towards the bottom of his list, so I know that it is an older exchange, going back weeks.

Voight: "Hey kid, how's it going?" Dated over a month ago.

No response by Liam.

A week later. Voight: "Just checking in on you. Tell me what it's like there."

Again, no response by Liam.

Voight: "Okay, I imagine you're busy, but when you have a minute let me know how you are."

Finally days after the final message and weeks after the initial one he types: "We're fine."

It seems clear that he isn't much interested in keeping the relationship alive at this point in time. That he must blame Voight for my decision to leave Chicago. I have a feeling that he understands more than he wants me to know. I could sense it in his reticence with Hank the day we left the city. I had never seen him act like that around the man. Liam had tuned into something all on his own.

As I stand there, I think about how well behaved he has been and as difficult as it is to believe, it is a cause for some concern. He has never treated me with kid gloves, at least not like this. But then perhaps he always toed the line of defiance because he felt he had to in order to have my full attention, and now, my attention doesn't have to be demanded. Or maybe, I no longer have a safety net as a single parent, but neither does he. All friends, family and support are over a thousand miles away and of little use to him if needed. He is concerned that I could become the problem and he won't know what to do.

Hank tossed his keys in the bowl on the table next to one of his favorite pictures. It was of him and Liam at a Chicago Fire soccer game the year before. He couldn't recall who won the game, but he did remember that they both had a great time. He didn't know too much about the sport, but Liam had been totally engrossed and had explained the positions and strategy. He had always enjoyed spending time with the boy, he had a way of breathing life and hope back into his soul when he needed it the most.

He took his coat off and went into the living room to look at the picture that he had taken at one of the boy's baseball games. It showed Jay either congratulating or consoling Liam, he couldn't recall which, as he squatted down, to be face to face with his son. The photo was at least three years old now. But it was a genuine and candid moment that revealed so much emotion. It held everything that his own relationship with his son had lacked. Hank could almost see the tendrils of love reach from one to the other. The foundation that they stood on, strong as ever. There was no effort, it was just there. It was always just there. But it had come at a cost. The loss of Liam's mother created an emptiness that needed to be filled, and each one answered the others need. Jay always attempted to pretend that the relationship with Emma was much less than it was, only it was clear that it wasn't nothing, it had been everything; now Liam was his everything. And Voight couldn't be happier about it.

He felt responsible for Jay's departure. He had thought that Jay would never be swayed by Hank's policing, but somehow, somewhere it had happened. And it would seem that Liam was aware of it and blamed him for his sudden expulsion from Chicago.

Touch by July Talk

Hank had often felt like a ghost, an ethereal being, not tethered to anything of any substance. He made an impact on what and who was around him, yet at the same time, he didn't quite fit into the world as it existed. He was forced to live on its fringes while watching others as they went about their business of typical living. They made it seem so easy, yet if he ever had the ability, it had passed long ago.

And now the boy, that had once been his buddy, had seemed to be a shell of himself at the airport. Barely talking to Hank or even acknowledging his presence. And it had taken three texts for the kid to answer him. But he deserved it. Everyone he loved left him. His wife, his son, Al, Anna, Erin and now Jay and Liam. His rage was always at the tipping point and needed little to make it overflow. He had really never thought about it splashing onto others. But it had, and apparently Jay absorbed it despite his best efforts not to. He had changed Jay, when Jay had hoped to change him. Hank just couldn't change; he had nothing else he could be but himself and it came at a high price.

Jay

Two weeks later of near perfect behavior I can't stand it anymore and have to figure out why Liam has bottled everything up. It's not quite like walking on eggshells, but something is not right with my son. He's trying too hard not to be himself. It's a chilly night, snowflakes are beginning to swirl around. The wind is fairly gentle as we start out on our evening walk with Win. Liam is just ahead of me as I flip up his hood to cover his head, which is already covered by a Blackhawks knit hat, but the snow is beginning to thicken.

"You know it's not your job to take care of me," I say as Liam bends down to take the stick away from the dog.

He tosses it behind him and just stands there as if he is uncertain what to do or say next. "It's my job to take care of you." He remains silent and I feel the need to fill the space. "I feel, that you feel like you have to be there for me, do what I need."

He blinks, looks away, his hood hiding his face, and then looks back at me. "I do." He readily admits.

"You don't. I'm not your responsibility and I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was." I tell him.

"We're a team. Together always."

Suddenly I am reminded of his greatest fear. His mother's abandonment has stained everything around us. She had left us, and suddenly I was solely responsible for him and it was a daunting task that constantly overwhelmed me. Being in the job that I am, an adrenaline junkie, it must have been agony for him every day since he understood the dangers in my life. He was prepared to do whatever it took to keep me safe, but he had very little power in that aspect until this decision. This move. He was right, if he had wanted to stay in Chicago I would have gone to Bolivia where the dangers were much more prevalent, and he was well aware of that. Here I was trying to be a better parent and my kid was outdoing me. He was parenting me. Putting my interests ahead of his own. I had picked up one of his school books that had a collection of poems and quotes from famous authors, and one by Emily Bronte, stuck with me, especially now: "He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

I run the words over and over in my head as he stands quietly waiting for my reply. We are close, what I had always wanted, but I am terrified of it. "Of course we're a team. We'll always a be a team." I assure him, not sure what to say next. This wasn't going how I wanted it to.

We walk for a moment on the quiet street; houses on our left, woods on the right. Win is sniffing everything she can reach. Suddenly Liam looks at me, his face hardened. "But you always chose the job. Every time you chose the job. Except maybe this time, but then again you did. Everyone was upended because you can't play nice with Sarge. I remember when you made me stop playing with Dylan because we always got in trouble together. You said my choices were mine, but they were clouded when I was with him. But you didn't have to change anything when you ordered me to stay away from him. My whole world is upside-down because you suddenly can't make the right choices for yourself."

And there it was; his anger, what I had been waiting for. What I had needed to hear for some reason. What he needed to let go. "I've always wanted to do better by you, but I just never could seem to manage."

"That's an excuse Dad. You could have managed, but you didn't want to. You could have changed to a less dangerous job, still a cop but a different unit. You could have found a place where you would work less hours, be safer. But you always did what you wanted, every time."

"I wanted to do things differently, but I was scared. And I'm rarely scared. But all I could think of was that I would fail you, if I tried then I might fail, and I couldn't face that. So I didn't put myself in that position, I worked at something I knew I was good at, my job. Then suddenly you were older and I didn't have any other caregivers to count on."

"Is that why you married Hailey?" He asks, and suddenly I can't breathe. I have only a moment to ponder this possible truth before he continues. "I wasn't even worth trying. All I ever wanted was to be with you. I was so proud of all that you did, mostly things I wasn't aware of because you wouldn't tell me. I told myself that you were busy saving the city, but now I don't even get to live in that city anymore. But if I stayed there and you went to South America and were killed, how would I cope? My choices impact you, but your choices—your choices affect everything. And I hate that every battle has consequences that I have to pay for and I wasn't even in the war.

"If this job here didn't come up would you have left me and gone to Bolivia. Was getting out that important?"

I breathe deeply and take my time. "It was very important. But I wouldn't have left you. I would have waited until something came available."

"You would have stayed with Intelligence?"

"I don't know. Probably not, but I would have found something."

"Thank you for not lying to me. But now we're here and you're going to tell me it's going to be different here." He continues.

Miracle of Sound by Setting Sun

"But you hate it here don't you?" I interrupt, afraid of what else he might say.

"But I love you, and that's supposed to matter. But now you are pushing me away, wanting me to hate it here so you can go to Bolivia, cause it isn't exciting enough here for you. I'm not enough!" he yells, turns and takes off, Windy galloping beside him.

I call out to him but he has gone around the corner and towards the woods that line the street. I wait for a few cars to pass by, cursing that this extremely quiet street suddenly has traffic. I charge off to the tree line and meet only silence.

Liam

I run into the woods, Win not thrilled with our entrance into the tree line, but she stays right with me. I know she won't be able to stay quiet. Dad will follow us and the leaves are wet, but still make enough noise and he'll call out for me, and then her, and she will react. I jog parallel with the road and then head back towards the street. Dad is nowhere to be seen and I expect that he has followed me into the trees, so I hold the leash tightly and take off across the street and behind the houses.

"I'm sorry girl," I tell Win, who looks confused. "We will just go the long way and then we'll go home. I just need some time. He's trying to get me say I want to go back to Chicago so that he can go to South America. I knew this job wasn't going to be exciting enough for him. He thought that maybe by spending more time with me it would be enough to fill the void, but clearly it isn't. I'm not enough. But don't worry, if I go back to Chicago, you're coming with me. My uncle Will had a dog once, he'll help me take care of you. There's lots of dogs in the city."

We walk a few blocks and I try to remember the easiest way to get back to our house. Everything looks just a little bit different in the dark. The city is so bright, and the scattered streetlights here just can't mimic what I had always been used to. "I know we're a mess." I tell the dog who is trotting along to keep up with my increased pace. "It's like we're out of sync, or maybe we were never in sync. It's just so weird, because I really believe he loves me, but then sometimes I question it. Like he just wants to be a cop and maybe a husband, but not a father. Or maybe a father sometimes. I don't know. It's confusing, I'm confused. I think he is too." I confide in Win who is a great listener. But I know she is probably ready to go home and get warmed up and actually I am too. My hood had slipped down, and I pulled it back up as I recalled the simple act of parenting that my dad had just partaken in only minutes before. I look around and try to get my bearings as the snow falls. My phone is at home, where I have to leave it when we take our walks so that I don't get tempted to mess with it. Dad always has his though, for work he says. In case they call. But he can't call me or track me and somehow that feels so liberating. Let him worry for a few minutes; like I have done for years, waiting for him to come home, waiting to see if he is safe.

I finally just start heading back in the direction I know we live, and things begin to feel familiar. As we near the house I see Dad walk out, keys in his hand. He is nearly to the car when he sees me and blows out a mouthful of air in relief. "Where have you been? I had been waiting but was just about to drive around and look for you."

"Walking," I reply as I walk past him and try to go inside but find the door locked. He comes up behind me and unlocks the door. I step inside and release Win from her leash where she bolts for the upstairs. Smart dog.

Stand by Me by Kit Theory

Dad shuts the door behind me and sets his keys down and takes off his coat, while I do the same. "You can't just take off like that."

"I'm not a little kid Dad. I can be by myself outside. Especially here."

"No, you are not a little kid and that means you should know better. If you don't want to talk to me or are upset with me that's fine, but you don't get to run off. I'll give you space until you're ready to talk.

"Okay," I whisper so quietly I'm not sure if he hears me. Of course, waiting it out doesn't have the same impact as taking off, I know that much. I think back to when I thought I had successfully skipped school, only to realize he had been looking for me all day along with the entire Chicago PD. Also, the time he tracked me down at the Riverwalk when I snuck down there. I guess he has chased me a few times.

I can tell Dad has no idea what to say and I have no idea what he wants. Absolution for screwing up everyone's life? Do I even have the power to do that? Why was he poking me? True, things hadn't been completely normal between us, but everything had just changed—what did he expect? He moves to the living room and gestures for me to follow him. I do and as I move my anger rises, even though I really have no idea why. He turns to say something to me and I charge at him and push him in the chest as hard as I can. He stumbles backwards, his face twisted in surprise.

"I love you," I yell at him. "Why can't that be good enough?" "You worry about not being a good father, but you are. I know you love me. But when you are constantly second-guessing yourself you suck at it! Because then it is all about you, and being a good father means that you include me. I try not to be the center of everything, but sometimes if I'm not, you drift away.

"I hated how much your job took you away from me and how dangerous it was, but it was who you were and what you did. I couldn't push you to quit. You wouldn't do that anyway, so why would I want to feel betrayed and being on the losing side. And," I say emphasizing the word, "you were so good at it, how could I justify taking you away from saving people." I'm not sure which sentence had hit him, but something did because the look on his face was pretty emotional.

All Jay could think of was his conversation with Voight before he went to meet Walker North. How he knew Voight in a jail cell wouldn't help the city and how everyone always paid the price for him. Now he was the one at the center of the problems, with his son paying the price, and he had no idea how he got there.

Dad is quiet so I continue. "This isn't an audition Dad. I am here and I'm real, and I need you. I will move to Antarctica to be with you. Yes, I'm struggling with the move, but give me a damn minute to adjust. I'm not rejecting you; I'm trying to process everything. Everything was so sudden, literally forty-eight hours. It doesn't mean I want to be back in Chicago, not if it isn't with you. Just love me, be there for me, that's all I ever wanted.

"Why do you think—I don't know, why do you think it's so bad?" I ask, afraid of his answer.

"I feel like you are walking on eggshells, trying to be perfect. Not being you." He offers. "That if you screw up—"

"Perfect?" I question, interrupting him. "If I'm not perfect you'll take me back to Chicago and go to Bolivia." I can tell this surprises him. He takes a minute and then clears his throat.

"You are a good kid. But you find trouble, talk-back, get into things. Erin used to say that you were spirited, had zest. Other than tonight, you've been nearly perfect, you've lost your zest. And that's not you. And now what I feared is true; you feel you have to be perfect to suit me out of fear of what I might do."

"Dad, you tell me that I don't have to be perfect, but that's exactly what you expect yourself to be. Cut yourself some slack. You always say you expect me to make mistakes and that it's okay, that I may get into trouble but together we'll figure it out and get through it."

"That's true. It's part of growing up. And I'm here to help you."

"Okay, but if I can screw up so can you. You're grown up, but you still growing as a parent. And we'll get through that together too. You may be disappointed in me at times and I may get mad at you, but in the end, we're trying together.

"If you're perfect then how am I supposed to deal with that?" I question him.

He looks at me unsure of what I mean.

"How do I compare to perfection? How do I live up to that? You've always been good about teaching me why I'm in trouble and how to try not to repeat the same mistakes. In Michigan, part of what made that trip so great was that you tried even harder. If you just keep doing that, then the rest will be easy."

"I just wanted to be the best father, and I thought I was doing really well when you were young. But then your mother left and the demands of the job pulled at me, and somewhere in there I got lost. I felt guilty that I was gone so much, then I felt guilty reprimanding you too much, but then I'd feel guilty if I let you get away with things that you shouldn't. Or be too soft on you."

"When was that?" I ask trying to recall him being too lenient. "I don't remember any of the being soft on me part."

He smiles. "I figured it was about you getting attention from me, because I just wasn't there to give you enough of it."

I nod. "Yeah, it was mostly. I wanted your focus on me. And annoying you is what got it."

His lips tighten into a line. "I didn't get along with my father all that well and it was important to me to be the best father I could, then I worried exactly what that meant. Everything I did was steeped in self-doubt. And the older you got, the more unproductive I felt. But you are right, I put the bar at an unattainable height and never even realized it. And the more I tried to achieve it, the more I felt like a failure."

"Dad, you're selling yourself short. You are a good dad and always have been. Not perfect, but even if you were, I wouldn't even know it. Then I'd have to try and be the perfect kid, and these past weeks of attempting that have been exhausting. We can both make mistakes and we can recover from them. That's the important part."

"When did you get so wise?"

I shrugged and then continued. "When we were in Michigan and you refused to let me blow you off—it felt different. Like we turned a corner or something."

"You can thank Hailey for that. She encouraged me to get to the bottom of things. To find out what was bothering you instead of just focusing on your reaction to it. Stop treating the symptoms and find the cause."

"Can I email her?" I asked, suddenly thinking of her.

"Of course you can. My relationship with her shouldn't affect yours or with anyone back home."

"So you guys are just on hold right now?"

"Basically."

"What does that mean?" I ask him.

"I'm not even sure. We are just in a holding pattern. Not together, but not, not together."

"Oh, well that clears it up," I tell him smiling. "Is it okay if I email Sarge?"

"Yes. But I expect every email to be respectful and pleasant."

"I'm not mad at him because I don't even know what happened. And I know something happened. And I know you will never tell me what it is. I know Kyle has said stuff about him, but Sarge has always been nice to me."

"You have your experience and that is what you need to go by. If you want to maintain contact then you do just that. I'm not mad at him. It was just time for me to step away.

"Are we ever going back? Please tell me the truth." I beg.

"The truth is I don't know. At least not right now." His face reflects the uncertainty he is apparently feeling.

"Okay. Thank you for being honest."

I smile. He thinks that I have changed myself to accommodate him, but that's not completely accurate. I walk over to my phone and pull up a video and toss it to him even though this is a self-destructive move. "Not perfect, just not caught." I tell him. He looks at the video and his eyes widen. "Apparently it's a rite of passage." I explain.

"Do you know how dangerous this was?" He asks as he sees a video of me taken from a car as I am standing up in the bed of a pick-up truck, my arms out as it speeds down the street.

"That's why it's a rite of passage. It turns out country kids are just as reckless as city kids."

"If they had taken a corner too fast, or stopped short you could have flown off and been killed. What the hell were you thinking!?" He says, his voice deepening and getting louder.

And Dad was suddenly back. "I'm okay Dad. We're together and it's okay. I swear that you are a good father. You may have worked too much in the past, but lots of parents do, either because they want to or had to. I think for you it was a bit of both. But I always knew you cared. Always. Just try and be my father and not worry about your relationship with your father or anything else. Don't constantly second guess yourself. It will be okay. I promise."

The silence begins to loom as my words hover in the air. I stand and breathe in the air that has suddenly become too heavy. We have said so much, but did either one of us really hear it, ingest it? I like to believe that I have and hope that he has, but I can't be sure. I mean we are guys and communication isn't our strong suit. And we are also Halstead's who tend to push back every true emotion that happens to pop up. Dad looks at me and I have no idea what he is thinking; his face is unreadable, almost as if he doesn't know what to think. He looks over at me, but I'm not sure if he even sees me, then he looks back at the video on my phone and his face begins to crumble as a sob escapes and I realize how much he has been holding inside. Feelings about me, about our circumstances, his past, his present. Everything. He steps towards me and pulls me into an embrace as his tears hit my hair. I hold him as tightly as I can and begin to cry as well. He has never, never shown me emotion like this. I didn't even know he could cry. Suddenly I feel like we are really together, like when we were in Michigan, but even more so. The words we had exchanged were meaningful and consequential. They weren't empty and full of false promises, they broke through the walls that we had both constructed in order to ensure our own private balance.

I feel his body shudder as his embraces tightens even further. Finally, he relaxes a bit and we part. "So am I grounded?" I ask to break the tension.

"So grounded," he says, wiping his eyes. His tears meant everything to me. And somehow my risky behavior had meant everything to him. Or at least broke the ice. Or my words did. Either way it doesn't matter, I think that we're okay, really okay.

"We're okay?" I ask him.

"We've always been okay," he replies. "I just couldn't see it."

"But you do now?"

"I certainly do." He nods.

The soundtrack songs are within the story.

To be continued...