had said,
it was practically everything—and Jonah promised that he’d do his best from now
on. Miles, too, said that he’d help Jonah and that if everything went well,
he’d be caught up in no time. All in all, Jonah considered himself lucky.
What he didn’t
realize was that his father wasn’t finished yet. “But because you’re so far behind,” Miles went on calmly, “you’re
going to have to stay after school a few days a week, so Miss Andrews can help
you out.” It took a moment for the words to register, and then Jonah looked up
at his father.
“After school?”
Miles nodded.
“She said you’d catch up faster that way.”
“I thought you
said that you were going to help me.”
“I am, but I
can’t do it every day. I have to work, so Miss Andrews said she’d help, too.”
“But after
school?” he asked again, a note of pleading in his voice.
“Three days a
week.”
“But . . . Dad .
. .” He tossed the rest of the ice-cream cone into the garbage.
“I don’t want to
stay after school.”
“I didn’t ask if
you wanted to. And besides, you could have told me you were having trouble
before. If you’d done that, you might have been able to avoid something like
this.”
Jonah furrowed
his brow. “But, Dad . . .”
“Listen, I know
there’s a million things you’d rather do, but you’re gonna do this for a while.
You don’t have a choice, and just think, it could be worse.” “Howww?” he asked,
sort of singing the last syllable, the way he always did when he didn’t want to
believe what Miles was telling him.
“Well, she could
have wanted to work with you on the weekends, too. If that had happened, you
wouldn’t have been able to play soccer.” Jonah leaned forward, resting his chin
in his hands. “All right,” he finally said with a sigh, looking glum. “I’ll do
it.”
Miles smiled,
thinking, You didn’t have a choice.
“I appreciate
that, champ.”
• • •
Later that
night, Miles was leaning over Jonah’s bed, pulling up the covers. Jonah’s eyes were heavy, and Miles ran his
hand through his son’s hair before kissing his cheek.
“It’s late. Get
some sleep.”
He looked so
small in his bed, so content. Miles made sure that Jonah’s night-light was on,
then reached for the lamp by the bed. Jonah forced his eyes open, though one
look said they wouldn’t stay that way for long. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for not
being too mad at me today.”
Miles smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
“And Dad?”
“Yeah?”
Jonah reached up
to wipe his nose. Next to his pillow was a teddy bear Missy had given him when
he’d turned three. He still slept with it every night. “I’m glad Miss Andrews wants to help me.”
“You are?” he
asked, surprised.
“She’s nice.”
Miles turned out
the light. “I thought so, too. Now get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay. And Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Miles felt a
tightness in his throat. “I love you, too, Jonah.”
• • •
Hours later,
just before fourA .M., Jonah’s nightmares returned. Like the wail of someone plunging off a cliff, Jonah’s screaming
immediately jolted Miles awake. He staggered half-blindly from his bedroom,
nearly tripping over a toy in the process, and was still trying to focus when
he scooped the still-sleeping boy into his arms. He began whispering to him as
he carried him to the back porch. It was, he’d learned, the only thing that
would ever calm him down. Within moments the sobbing dropped to a whimper, and
Miles was thankful not only for the fact that his home sat on an acre of land,
but that his nearest neighbor—Mrs. Knowlson—was hard of hearing.
In the hazy
humid air, Miles rocked Jonah back and forth, continuing to whisper in his ear.
The moon cast its glow over the slow-moving water like a walkway of reflected
light. With low-slung oak trees and the whitewashed trunks of cypress trees
lining the banks, the view was soothing, ageless in
it was practically everything—and Jonah promised that he’d do his best from now
on. Miles, too, said that he’d help Jonah and that if everything went well,
he’d be caught up in no time. All in all, Jonah considered himself lucky.
What he didn’t
realize was that his father wasn’t finished yet. “But because you’re so far behind,” Miles went on calmly, “you’re
going to have to stay after school a few days a week, so Miss Andrews can help
you out.” It took a moment for the words to register, and then Jonah looked up
at his father.
“After school?”
Miles nodded.
“She said you’d catch up faster that way.”
“I thought you
said that you were going to help me.”
“I am, but I
can’t do it every day. I have to work, so Miss Andrews said she’d help, too.”
“But after
school?” he asked again, a note of pleading in his voice.
“Three days a
week.”
“But . . . Dad .
. .” He tossed the rest of the ice-cream cone into the garbage.
“I don’t want to
stay after school.”
“I didn’t ask if
you wanted to. And besides, you could have told me you were having trouble
before. If you’d done that, you might have been able to avoid something like
this.”
Jonah furrowed
his brow. “But, Dad . . .”
“Listen, I know
there’s a million things you’d rather do, but you’re gonna do this for a while.
You don’t have a choice, and just think, it could be worse.” “Howww?” he asked,
sort of singing the last syllable, the way he always did when he didn’t want to
believe what Miles was telling him.
“Well, she could
have wanted to work with you on the weekends, too. If that had happened, you
wouldn’t have been able to play soccer.” Jonah leaned forward, resting his chin
in his hands. “All right,” he finally said with a sigh, looking glum. “I’ll do
it.”
Miles smiled,
thinking, You didn’t have a choice.
“I appreciate
that, champ.”
• • •
Later that
night, Miles was leaning over Jonah’s bed, pulling up the covers. Jonah’s eyes were heavy, and Miles ran his
hand through his son’s hair before kissing his cheek.
“It’s late. Get
some sleep.”
He looked so
small in his bed, so content. Miles made sure that Jonah’s night-light was on,
then reached for the lamp by the bed. Jonah forced his eyes open, though one
look said they wouldn’t stay that way for long. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for not
being too mad at me today.”
Miles smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
“And Dad?”
“Yeah?”
Jonah reached up
to wipe his nose. Next to his pillow was a teddy bear Missy had given him when
he’d turned three. He still slept with it every night. “I’m glad Miss Andrews wants to help me.”
“You are?” he
asked, surprised.
“She’s nice.”
Miles turned out
the light. “I thought so, too. Now get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay. And Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Miles felt a
tightness in his throat. “I love you, too, Jonah.”
• • •
Hours later,
just before fourA .M., Jonah’s nightmares returned. Like the wail of someone plunging off a cliff, Jonah’s screaming
immediately jolted Miles awake. He staggered half-blindly from his bedroom,
nearly tripping over a toy in the process, and was still trying to focus when
he scooped the still-sleeping boy into his arms. He began whispering to him as
he carried him to the back porch. It was, he’d learned, the only thing that
would ever calm him down. Within moments the sobbing dropped to a whimper, and
Miles was thankful not only for the fact that his home sat on an acre of land,
but that his nearest neighbor—Mrs. Knowlson—was hard of hearing.
In the hazy
humid air, Miles rocked Jonah back and forth, continuing to whisper in his ear.
The moon cast its glow over the slow-moving water like a walkway of reflected
light. With low-slung oak trees and the whitewashed trunks of cypress trees
lining the banks, the view was soothing, ageless in
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