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Phillip Buckley was originally from St. Paul, Minnesota, where his father still lived.
This information is mostly unimportant to the following story.
By all accounts, Phillip grew up in an average household that would prepare him to lead an altogether unremarkable life of his own, only ever deviated by two brief tragedies and an ever more swift miracle, outside of which nothing of real note would ever happen to him again. This too is unimportant information.
In fact the only reason to bring any of this up in the first place is because in the wake of the first – and most perilous – tragedy of Phillip Buckley (and it’s resulting wondrous miracle) he and his wife Margaret found themselves with a superfluous third child. So once Phillip and Margaret’s first tragedy was averted, and their miracle performed, Phillip did the most logical thing he could think to do and sent the excess child to live with his ornery father – who himself had not enjoyed the experience of raising children the first time, and who quite quickly put the child up for adoption.
In 1993, facing early fertility issues in their young marriage, young Robert Nash and his young wife decided to adopt a local boy of two named Evan. This story is mostly about him.
~~~~
Evan was having the worst day in the history of ever. It started on the bus to school when Angie decided to dump him for Evan Hudson, all because he was growing chest hair and had shot up, like, three inches overnight. Then in third period History, Mr. Felix called him out for “daydreaming” in front of the whole class and made him stand up and read an entire two-page passage about checks and balances. After that Marcus and Elliot cancelled on their plans this weekend to go see X2, which had just come out in theaters, because Marcus had a dentist appointment he’d forgotten about and Elliot had to go to his sister’s stupid ballet recital. And then dumb-evil bitch-boy Richard “The Dickhead” Block decided to inform him that his mom heard from Evan’s mom at church last Sunday that his parents only adopted Evan because not only did his real parents not want him, but his own grandpa couldn’t even handle his spastic ass.
He was wrong. They were all wrong, and stupid, and Evan knew that. Still. Today was the literal worst. It didn’t get better when he got home.
“Evan,” his dad called from the dining room. Evan winced. His dad must have heard the door shut. He was being so careful to be quiet. Evan tried to tip-toe to the stairs anyway. If he could make it to his room, maybe he could get started on his homework before having to face whatever his dad was mad about.
“Ev, buddy,” his mom called next. “Could you come sit with us in the dining room? You’re not in any trouble, we just wanna talk to you about something.”
He couldn’t figure out what he could have possibly done wrong, but the “you’re not in trouble” line never boded well. His parents didn’t get mad often, but disappointed… well that was another story all together.
Evan flopped his backpack strap over the banister so at least “leaving his backpack on the floor” couldn’t be added to his list of crimes, then he skulked back into the dining room and slumped into a seat across the table from his parents.
“What,” he tried not to snap. It wasn’t his parents’ fault that Evan had the day from H-E double hockey sticks. They didn’t even look mad. A little nervous maybe, what with the way Mom was trying to strangle Dad’s fingers: or with how Dad’s foot wouldn’t stop tapping under the table, but they almost looked kind of excited too.
Evan uncrossed his arms and tried to sit a little straighter.
“What’s going on,” he tried asking again, succeeding a little more in keeping the day’s pain out of his voice.
“Well, Ev –“
“Marcy, hang on.” Dad pried a hand loose from Mom’s death grip and held it up to stop her before she could really get going.
“Evan,” Dad began, all stern. Evan’s wall shot right back up. “What’s with the attitude?”
Evan rolled his eyes and looked away from his parents.
“Nothing,” he muttered, slumping in his chair again.
“Don’t give me that –“
Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mom put up a hand this time.
“Evan, honey, what’s wrong?” She tried instead. “We have some good news to share; we thought you’d want to hear it. This behavior isn’t like you.”
“Yeah, how would you know,” he bit back, still mostly to himself and the throw rug under the table.
“Because she’s your mother.” Dad was starting to sound mad. Evan bunched his shoulders up by his ears, but he still couldn’t look at them. “And I’m your father, and she’s right; you’ve been acting out all week this week. What’s going on with you, kid?”
So maybe it wasn’t just today. Whatever. Mom had a bakery to run, and Dad was always off on 24 hour shifts, and maybe he saw the medication Mom had started taking, and maybe he went to the library after school on Wednesday, and maybe he looked it up and knew what it was for, and Richard Dickhead was right, and Mom and Dad were trying again for a new baby because Evan wasn’t good enough. They adopted him when he was little because his real parents gave him to his grandpa who immediately gave him up for adoption, and as soon as the new baby was here they wouldn’t even need Evan anymore, and–
“Why do you even care!” Evan jolted up from his seat and snapped, every stressor of the last three days building up behind his eyes, in the back of his throat, in the hollow of his chest. “You’re not even my real dad!”
Evan regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Sooner, he’d try to say, but he didn’t know he was going to say that until the words fractured the air like a bullet in bullet-proof glass.
His dad looked like he’d been slapped. His mom’s hand came up to cover her mouth, tears like his collecting in her eyes.
He didn’t need to be told to go to his room. He ran as fast as he could without tripping, barely remembering to grab his backpack as he swung around the banister and used the momentum to propel himself up the stairs. He’d reached the top before he heard his dad’s cracked voice say:
“Evan, wait –“
He slammed his bedroom door on the rest of the sentence.
~~~~
“Evan.” A light knock dented the silence of his bedroom. It was his dad, which was surprising. His mom was usually the one to come check on him when he got like this. He just buried himself further under the covers. He still had his shoes on and his backpack on one shoulder. Maybe if his dad was coming to talk to him, he was going to kick him out. If that was the case, it was better that he was prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.
“Buddy, can I come in?”
A sob broke through him before he could get a hand over his mouth.
Dad cracked the door open a little, then barged in when he caught sight of Evan. He made it to Evan’s bed in two quick strides and immediately pulled Evan up into his arms, easing his backpack off his shoulder and onto the floor.
Evan only sobbed harder, trying to pull away until Dad’s hand started brushing down the back of Evan’s curls. If they survived this conversation, Dad was going to insist on a haircut before summer set in.
“Oh, Evan,” Dad cooed, rocking him in place and kissing the side of his head. It was so stupid. Evan was almost twelve years old. He shouldn’t need his dad to comfort him through a temper tantrum. Still, he rocked Evan and shushed him gently and held him until Evan could breathe again without breaking down into more tears.
When Evan was taking steady breaths again, Dad pulled him back to look him in the eye.
“My baby boy,” he said, swiping a thumb under Evan’s eye. “Why on earth would you ever think that Mom and I aren’t really your parents?”
“I’m adopted,” Evan said, because he’d known that fact for as long as he could remember. Mom and Dad told him when he was, like, four.
“Evan, look at me,” Dad said, which didn’t make sense because he was already looking at him. “You. Are. My. Son.” He said it all serious, punctuating every word. “How you came to be my son will not ever change the fact that your mother and I love you with everything we have.” He moved his hands from where they’d been cupping Evan’s face down to brace his shoulders. “The day Mom and I took you in – the day Judge Miller said we could take you home and keep you – I couldn’t have been happier if you’d come home with your mother from the hospital.”
Despite himself, fresh tears sprang to Evan’s eyes.
“Then why do you and Mom need another baby!”
Dad hesitated for a second and Evan wanted to bury himself under the covers all over again. Dad held his shoulders firm.
“Buddy, we’ve been trying to give you a baby brother or sister for a long time now.”
“I know, but it’s gonna happen for real this time, and I just don’t get why!”
“What do you mean it’s going to happen for real this time?”
Evan took a deep breath.
“I was looking for my Adderall before school on Wednesday,” he confessed, “And I couldn’t find it in my medicine cabinet, so I thought it might be in your medicine cabinet, but I saw a whole bunch of pills for Mom I’d never seen before, and I got worried, so I wrote down the names and looked them up at the library after hockey and I found out that they’re baby pills so she can have a strong pregnancy, and then today sucked, Dad – it like really sucked – because Angie dumped me on the bus this morning, and Mr. Felix called me out in front of everybody, and Marcus and Elliot can’t come to the movies tomorrow, and Richard Block said that Mom told his mom that you guys only adopted me ‘cause nobody else wanted me, and you’re having another baby now and you won’t need me anymore and –“
“Woah, woah, woah! Slow down! Who said anything about us not needing you anymore!?”
Dad put his hand up like he’d done with Mom earlier, and Evan took a handful more deep breaths.
“Evan Buckley Nash, your mother and I will always need you,” he promised.
“You didn’t even give me my own name,” Evan tried to argue. It was weak, and both of them new it. Dad moved his hand back to the side of Evan’s face to get him to look at him again.
“Your first and middle name are what they are because your mother and I wanted to make sure you always had a piece of where you came from. We wanted to pay our respects to the people who gave us the greatest gift of our lives. Now don’t try to change the subject on me.
“Where on God’s green earth did you get the idea that Mom and I don’t need you?”
“You’re having your own baby now –“
“And we’re going to need you more than ever!” Dad insisted. “We’re going to need you to be the best big brother in the world for the new baby! We’re going to need you to help read bedtime stories, and comfort them when they start school; we’ll need you to babysit sometimes, and help them with homework; I’m certainly going to need you to help me teach them hockey – I was a winger! What if they’re a goalie like you? How am I going to teach that without your help?”
That startled a giggle out of Evan, and Dad cracked a smile too.
“Dad, they’re not going to be able to play hockey until they’re, like, five.”
“Then I guess we’ll need you for the next five years at least,” Dad promised again. “More than that, Evan, we want you.”
Evan tried to hide his face, but the hand Dad still had on his cheek didn’t let him get very far.
“I can’t possibly say it enough, Evan, but your mom and I love you more than life itself, and we always will.”
“Even when I lose my cool,” Evan asked shame creeping up his spine to settle over his shoulders.
“Especially when you lose your cool.”
Evan gave his dad a skeptical look.
“Hey.” Dad shrugged. “You’re good practice.”
Evan cracked another smile, and Dad chuckled at him standing up and offering him a hand.
“I think you owe your mom an apology though.”
Evan stood on his own and refused to meet his dad’s eye, but he nodded to show at least that he’d heard. He owed his mom a massive apology. And his dad.
“I didn’t mean it,” he promised lowly as they left his bedroom. “I’m sorry, Dad.” Dad looped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in close.
“I know, bud. I’m just sorry you ever felt that way. Next time something like that happens, come talk to us about it. Please?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”
Evan stopped on the stairs to shoot his dad a look from where he’d already reached the bottom of the staircase. Curse Dad’s long legs. Evan wondered for a fleeting second if his birth parents were short and if he’d stay this short forever.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because,” Dad sighed, “I shouldn’t have started in on you when you got home. I didn’t like your attitude, but I knew you were hurting over something, and instead of finding out what it was I snapped at you. It was the wrong move.”
Evan flumped down the rest of the stairs.
“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “Like you said. I’m practice.”
Dad looked at him for a moment.
“You’re so much more than that, kid.” He ruffled Evan’s hair as Evan passed him towards the kitchen. “You need a haircut. Summer’s right around the corner.”
Evan rolled his eyes, thanking God he’d gotten ahead of Dad so he wouldn’t see. Then he squared his shoulders and went to go apologize to his mom.