"Steve?" Erin's voice came over the line. She sounded like she had been crying. Or still was.
"Erin, what's the matter?" I sat up and looked around my room. My roommate was still asleep. I didn't want to wake him, so I quietly got up and took my portable phone into the hallway.
"Steve, can you come home?" She was definitely crying.
"Erin? What's wrong?"
"It's Dad," she was sobbing. "He had a heart attack or something. It doesn't look good. They told us to tell you to come home."
I leaned back on the wall outside my dorm room. Spring Break was still three weeks away. But I needed to get home.
"Mom said she'd book a ticket for you at the airport. Please, Stephen? He's asking for you."
"Yeah. Yeah. Of course. I'm coming home. Tell him I'm coming. Tell Mom to call me as soon as she's booked the ticket. I've got to pack and make some calls."
"Okay. Please hurry, Stephen," Erin sobbed.
"I'm coming, Erin. I'm coming."
I went back into my room and turned on the light by my bed. I pulled out my old duffel bag from underneath my bed. Chris, my roommate, rolled over and groaned.
"Dude. It's..." he checked his watch. "Dude it's fucking four in the morning. What are you doing?"
He sat up when he saw I was packing.
"You're packing. Why are you packing?"
"It's my dad. My sister called. My dad's sick and it doesn't look good. They told me to come home."
"Oh. Shit. I'm sorry. Do you need a ride to the airport?"
"I can take a cab," I said. I felt bad waking Chris up in the first place.
"Fuck that. Those cabbies'll gouge you to take a fare to LAX at four in the morning. Give me five minutes. I'm gonna go pee and throw on some sweats. I got you, man."
"Thanks, Chris. I'll make it up to you."
The phone rang again I grabbed it.
"Hello?"
"Hi sweetheart," it was Mom. She sounded so sad.
"Hi Mom, what's happening? Erin wasn't really clear."
Her breath hitched.
"David had a heart attack this evening. It was really bad. They're doing their best but they told us to bring you home. We might have to say goodbye. I booked you a ticket on American. You can pick it up at the counter. Just show them your ID. The flight's at seven. Can you get to the airport?"
"Yes. Chris said he'll drive me. Is it really that bad, Mom?" Tears were coming to my eyes.
"It is, Stephen. I'm so sorry. Please try to stay calm. You'll get here when you get here. He's asking for you so maybe he'll wait for you. I'll meet you at the airport," she said.
"No! You stay with Dad. I'll find a ride. Maybe Spencer."
"Okay. Just be safe, okay? We'll see you in a few hours."
"How's Toby?" I asked. My brother and Dad were close. Well, we all are.
"He's okay. He's with Dad right now."
"Tell Dad I'm coming," I sobbed.
"I will. Just know that he really does love you, Stephen," she said, sobbing. I did too.
We hung up and I finished packing some clothes. I had a suit in my closet back home. I had a feeling that would be coming out.
I made a few phone calls leaving messages for a few of my profs. I left them the home number in Ohio in case they needed to reach me about the assignments I'd be hoping they'd accept late. I also called my baseball coach and explained the situation to him on his office voicemail.
I had won a full-ride scholarship to UCLA, USC, the University of Florida, Iowa State and Michigan State. I'd chosen UCLA for two reasons. The meeting with that scout in my sophomore year and it's the University of California LOS ANGELES! It's summer here all the time. The scholarship covered room and board as well as tuition and most of my books. I'd applied for a few academic scholarships, too and had won an almost full ride academic scholarship, which meant if I got injured at all and lost my baseball scholarship, I still had my academic money to fall back on. For now I used it for things like extra supplies and living expenses.
I was in my third year of pre-med underclass. I wasn't quite sure yet where I wanted to specialize. But I was doing well. The work was challenging but nothing I couldn't handle. I was carrying a very respectable 3.9 GPA.
Chris came back into the room, yawned and stretched as he threw a T-shirt on and a pair of sweatpants over his boxers. I had thrown on a sweatshirt over my T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, socks and sneakers. Chris wore flip flops. But then, he wore those as often as he could. I think the baseball diamond is the only place I'd ever seen him not wearing flip flops.
"You ready?" He asked. I tossed a textbook into my backpack and nodded.
"I told Don what was going on. Why that idiot is up at four am studying is beyond me. Anyway, he says he hopes everything's okay," Chris said. Don was our Residence Advisor.
I nodded my thanks.
Chris and I left the dorm and went out to his car. By the time we got to the airport, the sun was just starting to appear in the west.
"Lucky you. It'll be full day by the time you get home," Chris said, pulling up to the American Airlines area.
"Thanks, Chris. I owe you," I said.
"Nothing you wouldn't have done if the roles were reversed. And you had a car. Look, Stephen, I hope things work out, okay? Call me whenever you need to. And call me when you're coming back. I'll come get you."
"You don't have to do that."
"Nope. But I'm gonna. Bruins take care of each other. Give your mom and dad, and Toby and Erin my best."
"Thanks, man," I said, giving him a high five. I grabbed my duffel and backpack from the trunk and waved as he pulled away from the terminal.
I went inside and up to the ticket counter.
"There's supposed to be a ticket here for me? Stephen Freud," I said to the ticket agent. She typed something on her computer, read something and then nodded.
"Have you got any ID?" She asked.
I pulled out my student card and Ohio driver's license.
"Okay. Thank you, here you go," she said handing me my boarding pass. "Have a safe flight."
I thanked her and went to find my gate. I checked my luggage, went through security and took myself and my heavy backpack to the waiting area at the gate. I bought myself a coffee to both occupy myself and because it was now six in the morning and I don't function well without copious amounts of caffeine.
My flight was called and I boarded the plane. It wasn't very full, which was fine by me. I looked out the window as we taxied down the runway.
The whole flight home I thought about my parents. They'd adopted me on my sixteenth birthday. It had been a complete surprise. They weren't at all upset that I chose to keep my last name. I like my last name. And even though it turns out I'm not related to Sigmund Freud, as far as I can tell, it's still kind of a cool conversation starter. It's how I met my girlfriend Angela. In our freshman year we'd been put into a tutorial together and she'd learned my last name. We've been dating since. Which reminded me, I'd have to call her as soon as I could. She'd probably want to know why I disappeared.
I thought about the past seven years. The Fosters had taken in a pretty angry and jaded teenager who'd been bounced around from foster home to foster home and in and out of the Boy's Home. David had realized I was on a path to a not-so-good life. I was argumentative, fought authority, fought my peers, just fought everyone who got in my way in any way I felt was an inconvenience to me. David would sit with me and talk about my recent transgressions and help led me figure out that a lot of it came from just not trusting people. Why should I? My mom beat the shit out of me, her boyfriend raped me and in the Boy's Home, you beat or got beaten. I had no reason to care about anyone or anything. I knew the stories. Foster kids age out and are on their own. No one cares for them. So why should I care for anyone?
David and Mandy showed me that I was worth caring for. That I was wasting my intellect by being the defiant and argumentative teenager I was being. David got me back into baseball by using it to get me to talk about the things that bothered me. He'd drag me out into the back yard, toss me a baseball glove and throw a ball at me. He never let me get away with not catching it. He'd throw it, not too hard, and if I didn't catch it, or move, it'd hit me. So I started catching the ball. Then I started talking. And David listened. He didn't offer advice unless I asked for it. He'd ask questions instead of passing judgement. He'd make me think. He wouldn't let me get away with one or two word answers. He insisted I think through my answers.
Eventually, I calmed down. I started doing better in school because I felt like it mattered. To me, to David and Mandy. It mattered that I did my best. Even if I found the work boring and tedious, they expected my best efforts.
The same went for baseball when I joined the team my sophomore year. David expected me to practice as hard as I played. He told me to pretend each practice was a game and to play and practice for the love of the game. When I got that first taste of a scout paying attention to my playing, I wised up a bit more. I worked harder both in school and on the field. One way or the other, I was going to be someone. Maybe I'd play professional baseball. Maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I'd get a scholarship that could lead me to a pro career, but I wasn't banking on that. I knew I had to study hard in college, too. Because Major League Baseball isn't a given, but needing a career is kind of important.
When I accepted my scholarship to UCLA, David and I actually went to the batting cages instead of throwing the ball in the back yard. He asked me what I thought I'd like to study. What I thought I'd like to do when I finished college. I told him I wanted to help people. He suggested social work but I reminded him that Arlene was burnt out and as helpful as that would be, I didn't want the frustration the social services was. I decided on premed.
David and Mandy, Dad and Mom, had treated me like one of their own from day one. And when they adopted me and made it official, nothing changed. I still had chores, I still had to go to school. But I no longer had to worry that Arlene would just show up one day and take me away.
The plane landed, I got my luggage and went outside. Spencer, my best friend since Sophomore Year, was waiting by the curb.
"Can't say I loved the seven am wake up, but thanks for calling me. I'm so sorry about your dad," he said, giving me a hug.
"Thanks," I said simply. We got in his car and he drove me over to the hospital. I ran up to the ICU where Mom had said they were keeping Dad. My brother and sister were in the hallway. Both of them looked so grim.
"Stephen!" Erin said as I dropped my bags beside them. I gathered her up in a hug and she started crying on me.
I pulled Toby into the hug, too.
Mom came out having heard Erin. I went over and hugged her, too.
"He's asking for you. I think he's waiting for you. Go in. Go say goodbye," Mom cried.
I walked into Dad's room. He looked so pale. He looked old. He shouldn't look so old. He's barely fifty.
I sat down beside him. He looked like he was asleep and I didn't want to wake him up, but the chair moved as I sat down and scraped across the floor a little. His eyes opened and he looked over at me.
"Stephen," he breathed out.
"Hi, Dad," I said, trying not to cry in front of him.
"Stephen. One of the happiest days of my life was the day we made you officially our son. I am so proud of who you've become. You should be proud of yourself, too."
"Dad, stop. You need to rest. You need to preserve your energy so we can get you out of here."
"Stephen, son, I know it's my time."
"Don't talk like that," I said, unable to hold back the tears anymore. "Please, Dad. Please."
"Stephen, you're an amazing, strong, resilient young man. You're intellect is intimidating. But your compassion is incredible. With what you went through as a kid, I am so proud of you. Stephen, I want you to promise me three things. Okay? I'm dying, so you have to say yes."
"You're not dying, Dad. But yes. Anything."
He took a deep but shuddering breath.
"First, look out for your Mom and Erin and Toby, okay? You're going to be the man of the house. Even when you're away at school. Which I forbid you from dropping out of. You will finish school. Mom isn't that incapable."
He smiled. I couldn't.
"Second, be good. Do good things. I know you will. I know you'll make me proud."
"Okay," I said through my tears. I couldn't stop them and I couldn't hide them.
"And three," he said, then stopped, closed his eyes and breathed out. It took a minute and I was afraid he'd passed right there in front of me.
"Dad?" I said, touching his arm. He startled.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. Three. Never forget two things. Never forget where you came from. It's what has made you who you are. And never forget how much Mom and I love you."
"Okay," I said, fully sobbing now.
I sat with him for hours before Erin asked to switch. Then Toby, then Mom. We all took turns sitting with him.