Jason had always known his biological father was a traitor, a coward, and a scoundrel.
Of course, he didn't want to think that way, but he was constantly reminded of it. Once a month, the elderly mail carrier, Mrs. Gable, would trudge into the house with her heavy leather bag. Without even taking off her shoes, she'd march into the kitchen, sit down, and start counting out the support money. After handing over the cash, she'd sigh sympathetically and ask, "So, how are you all holding up?"
That was the cue for Jason's mother and grandmother to launch into a loud litany of grievances. The conversation inevitably circled back to how everything was Tom's fault. He'd abandoned his child, the jerk, living it up while the boy grew up like an orphan despite having a father still drawing breath.
But Jason remembered his dad perfectly. He often recalled his quiet, calm voice and those sad, thoughtful eyes. He never told his family, though; he knew better than to speak up. If he did, his mother would spiral into hysterics, and his grandmother would scold him—or worse.
So, he learned to play the part. When they called his father a traitor, he'd nod and say crossly that he didn't want anything to do with him. His grandmother would wipe away a tear, pat his head, and coo, "My poor, lonely boy. It's okay, don't you worry about it. You'll see, everything will turn out fine."
Years passed this way, and Jason entered the seventh grade. Nothing changed. His father remained a ghost, and the kitchen table remained a courtroom where his character was assassinated daily. Jason had grown used to it, rarely paying attention—until one evening, he heard his mother's indignant cry.
"Are you serious? He moved back here with her? That snake, that homewrecker? No, there's no way!"
"Honey, I'm not making it up," his grandmother replied. "Mrs. Miller told me the Petersons sold them their house."
"I guess things didn't work out for them up North, then."
"Exactly. And can you imagine what his salary will be here? It's not the oil fields! The child support will be a joke—just pennies."
"Mom, stop talking about the money. My heart is heavy, don't you get it? It's not about the money."
"Oh, listen to you! You have a child to raise! Have you thought about Jason?"
From that exchange, Jason realized his father was finally back. They might actually see each other soon. He couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning with anxiety. By morning, he had developed a sudden fever. His grandmother pressed a hand to his forehead and realized he was burning up. She called his mother, and together they fussed over him, plyed him with herbal tea, and whispered soothing words. The strange fever lasted three days before he began to recover. His family breathed a sigh of relief, warning him to be more careful and stay out of the draft. It never occurred to them that the fever was purely nerves.
***
They didn't tell him about his father's return. But Jason knew exactly where the Petersons used to live. Now, his father lived there—the man he hadn't seen in years. Jason started hanging around the neighborhood, riding his bike in circles around the house, peering into the yard with hope. But he saw no one, and the lights remained dark in the evenings.
A few weeks went by. One Saturday, Jason rode his bike toward the empty house as usual. A car was parked by the curb, and a man was busy unloading suitcases and boxes.
Jason hopped off his bike and stood still, watching the man intently.
Dad. It's really my dad. I've waited so long for this.
Feeling eyes on him, the man set down a large suitcase and looked at the boy quizzically. Then, with a laugh, he said, "What are you standing there for? You looking to help? Careful, these bags are heavy."
Confused, Jason didn't know what to say. He looked down and gripped his handlebars nervously. The man continued to joke, but then his expression shifted. He went dead silent.
"Jason? It's you, isn't it? God, why didn't I recognize you right away?"
Jason let his bike drop to the grass and took a hesitant step forward.
"Dad..."
"Daddy!" a high-pitched child's voice echoed. "Daddy, who's that?"
A small, anxious boy peeked out from the gate, but the father didn't seem to hear him. Finally, poor Jason couldn't take it. He turned away, picked up his bike, and slowly wheeled it away through the grass. That evening, he listened to the angry kitchen talk again. His grandmother sang her usual song about the scoundrel and the traitor. His mother chimed in, sobbing and sighing.
Fearing a massive scene, Jason stopped going to the house. One evening, his father actually came to their door, but his grandmother decisively shoved him back, slammed the door, and hissed, "Thank God Jason didn't see that."
But he had seen it out of the corner of his eye. He didn't go out to meet him, though. Why upset his grandmother? Besides, his dad had a new kid now. Jason wasn't needed.
***
On the first of September, Jason went back to school and was immediately disappointed. Instead of elderly Mrs. Higgins, they had a new literature teacher, Ms. Sarah Vance, who was also their new homeroom teacher. The other kids were worried too. Of course, beloved Mrs. Higgins had been due for retirement for years; she got tired easily and sometimes mixed up her words. But the kids valued her kindness and fairness, so they tried not to upset her and behaved well in her class.
Fortunately, Ms. Vance turned out to be just as kind and understanding. She gave them interesting books to read, explained the material well, and held engaging discussions. Everyone, even the kids who usually hated school, looked forward to her English and Lit classes. Ms. Vance was also a huge fan of theater and often had the students act out scenes from plays. The kids loved the amateur theater and performed successfully at school assemblies.
Just before the winter break, Ms. Vance approached Jason after class and handed him a small wrapped package.
"Here you go, Jason. I know how much you love to read. I hope you enjoy your winter vacation."
When he got home, Jason tore off the wrapping paper and nearly jumped for joy. He finally had the Jules Verne book he'd been dreaming of. His mother and grandmother never bought him books; he usually had to rely on the library.
Jason devoured the book and was still buzzing about it when school started again. After class, he followed Ms. Vance, excitedly recounting his favorite parts. As they said goodbye, the teacher mentioned she was on her way to visit a struggling student named Kevin.
"I'm going to talk to his parents," she said. "He's a bright kid, but for some reason, he's just lost interest in school."
"Do you visit a lot of students?" Jason asked.
"Quite a few, actually. It's part of the job when you're a homeroom teacher."
"How come you never come to my house?"
"Well, you're a great student, and I assumed everything was fine at home."
"How do you know? Maybe I'm an orphan," Jason said darkly.
"Jason, are you joking?" she asked, her tone turning serious.
"My grandmother calls me that all the time. She's... kind of mean," the boy replied sadly.
"Well, don't be too hard on her. People get cranky when they get older. Tell you what—would you like me to come over? I can meet your grandmother."
"Really? Yes!" Jason cheered up instantly, even clapping his hands.
A few days later, the teacher did come over. His grandmother served tea and immediately launched into her old routine. She talked about the "no-good traitor," pitied her "wronged daughter," and kept calling Jason a "poor little orphan." Then his mother came home from work, saw the guest, and her face went cold. Ms. Vance stood up immediately, said she had a lot to do, and hurried out the door.
A massive argument erupted in the kitchen the moment she left, and Jason sat in his room listening.
"Look, honey, don't be mad at me. How was I supposed to know? What a little sneak!"
"Sneak? She comes into our house and listens to us talk? And I, like a fool, am serving her tea and telling her everything!"
"Oh, Mom... didn't the last name ring a bell?"
"How was I supposed to know her last name? I only knew her as Sarah!"
And then it clicked for Jason. Their last name was Smith—common enough. His new teacher's last name was Smith too. He'd never thought anything of it, assuming it was just a coincidence. Well, he supposed there was nothing left to talk to her about now.
***
The next day, he left the book on the teacher's desk. When Ms. Vance saw the gift returned, she looked heartbroken and asked Jason to stay after class.
"Please, just listen to me. I can explain everything."
"I'm sorry, but we have nothing to talk about. I'm leaving."
"Wait! Why are you giving the book back? It's rude, Jason. I gave it to you from the heart!"
Jason ran out of the classroom and hurried down the hall. She caught up to him at the school exit and quietly repeated her question: "Why did you return my gift?"
"You were just trying to butter me up."
"I told you, it was a gift. I wanted to make you happy. Why are you being like this?"
"I don't believe you! You did a terrible thing to us. It's because of you I'm an orphan now!"
"Oh, Jason, no! That's not my fault!" There was genuine hurt in her voice. "I don't know why your parents split up. I didn't even meet your father until long after the divorce. But I do know that your dad loves you very much. He writes you letters, he sends gifts, he talks about you all the time. He always has. And little Mikey is dying to meet his big brother. We moved here specifically to be closer to you. Don't you see? Please, don't push us away."
"Who's Mikey?"
"Your little brother."
***
When Jason got home, he lay on his bed staring sadly at the ceiling. Seeing how upset he was, his mother and grandmother began to grill him. He burst into tears and sobbed, "Why did you hide Dad's letters and gifts from me?"
"What letters, sweetie?" his mother asked, genuinely confused. Then she saw the look on the grandmother's face and turned toward her.
"Don't you look at me like that!" the old woman shouted. "Your mail went in the fireplace. I only wanted what was best! I was looking out for you!"
"Our mail?" his mother asked, bewildered. "He sent letters to me, too?"
"Yes, all the time. He even came here in a taxi once, saying he wanted to take you both with him. I chased him off. Jason was in the hospital then, and you were staying there with him."
"Mom... do you have any idea what you've done?"
"What I've done? I gave you a good, quiet life! You have a job, you buy whatever you want. The boy is fed and looked after. The house is clean. You have all the free time in the world to watch TV or nap. Do you think married women live like that? Is it so bad living with your own mother? What else do you need?"
"You robbed me of my happiness. You took away my love. And I'm supposed to thank you for it?"
"You're ungrateful! Think about it—would it have been better wandering from one rental to another? You're going to give me a heart attack talking to me like this! You should be ashamed, picking on an old woman. I'm going to go be alone before my heart gives out."
The grandmother stomped to her room, slammed the door, and locked it. The next morning, she refused to come out. Jason and his mother had toast for breakfast.
"I'm so sorry, Jason. Please forgive me. How could I have believed her? I lived all these years thinking your father was a jerk. I turned you against him. I'm so, so sorry."
"It's okay, Mom. You didn't know the truth."
"Did your father tell you about the letters?"
"No, Ms. Vance did. Is it okay if I go see them? You won't be mad?"
"Of course, go ahead, honey. Actually, I'm going to the movies today. Someone's been asking me out for a while," she said with a mysterious smile. "But it's a secret for now, so don't tell Grandma."
Jason made up with his teacher, took the book back, and promised to visit soon. He felt a wave of relief knowing he had a dad, a little brother named Mikey, and a wonderful stepmother who also happened to be his favorite teacher. His mom was happy again, too, getting ready for her date with a smile. There was still the issue of his grandmother walking around the house barking orders "for their own good," but it didn't matter anymore. No one was listening!
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