Free Nemesis: Box Set: Books 1 - 3 by David Beers Page B

you know for sure?”
    “Another couple months.”
    Wren was quiet for a few more seconds. “Will you bring it home to me when you get it?”
    That was different. Unexpected. Bring it home to him? Did he realize that Michael got one of these things every few months, and had for the past thirteen years? Bring it home to him? So they could, what…hang it up on the fridge? Frame it? What the fuck was he talking about? This wasn’t The Brady Bunch, wasn’t Leave it to Beaver.
    “Sure. I mean, I guess,” he said, trying to keep the heat in check.
    A few more seconds passed in silence.
    “That’s really something,” Wren said, almost to himself, his eyes looking out the passenger window.
    Minutes went by in silence, which is what Michael needed, that and no more attempts by his father to buddy up.
    “How’s Thera doing?” Wren asked, still looking out the window, his voice much quieter than when they began this trip.
    “Thera?” Michael asked.
    “Yeah. How’s she been? I haven’t spoken to her in a long time.”
    He couldn’t be more right. Michael didn’t know the last time that his father had spoken to any of his friends. He didn’t know the last time any of his friends had even seen Wren. Thera asked about him, but never the other way around.
    “Why haven’t you talked to her?” Michael asked, not looking over at his father, raising his left hand up to the steering wheel so that both held onto it.
    “Just been busy, I guess,” Wren said. His voice was soft, the happiness of the Burger King trip completely gone. He had been busy, and that was why he hadn’t had the time to ask Thera how she was doing over the past few years. There wasn’t any way he could actually believe that, that he’d been too busy drinking to talk to someone. It might be something that he said now, but he had to know how stupid it sounded, how he was anything but busy.
    Was it pity creeping into Michael’s thinking? He didn’t feel that emotion much for his father, and it felt strange on this random Monday as they drove to a fast food restaurant. His father couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t say— because I’m drunk all the time, and anything that happens outside of my television doesn’t matter to me. Truth be told, I really don’t know why I’m asking right now; I guess because the TV isn’t here to keep me entertained.
    They drove along, the truck moving smoothly over the paved road, neither speaking. As the Burger King sign appeared on the horizon, Michael wanted to say something. But, he didn’t know what. His father had made this bed, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. There wasn’t anything Michael could say to alleviate the guilt weighing on his father’s mind.
    So Michael stayed silent. They ordered. They ate. They went home.
----
    W ren knew what Michael thought , though he hadn’t said anything. The boy had kept quiet and Wren was thankful for it, Lord was he. He didn’t want to talk the rest of the time they were together, and he was thankful that Linda didn’t either. Wren didn’t know if he would be able to take her chastising him, bringing up what he already knew to be true while he sat there eating with Michael. It would have been too much.
    And what he knew was that he was a horrible father. There wasn’t any other way to put it, not with his buzz wearing off and the sun shining above him. He might be able to dodge that little fact at night, might be able to lose himself in TV, but not right now. Not after the questions he just asked.
    They got out of the truck and walked inside the house, Wren going to his chair while Michael went back to his room. God bless the boy, because he could have said any number of things, but he hadn’t. He’d given Wren a kindness and Wren couldn’t say a word about it, couldn’t admit it.
    Why not? Linda said as he leaned back in his chair, finally deciding to comment on the situation.
    He couldn’t admit that to his son. He couldn’t admit