Leaving Home by Chase, A. (life books to read .txt) 📗

was still processing the biggest shock of his life.

“I just moved back to the States, and live in Washington D.C. right now. My home was

in Argentina, but I’ve travelled all around the world for business.”

“Argentina? That would explain the accent.” Chaz grinned. “You kind of sound like the

guys we have on tour from Brazil, though, if I remember correctly, you wouldn’t speak the same language.”

Roscoe nodded. “You’re right. We speak Spanish while the Brazilians speak

Portuguese. If you listen closely, our accents aren’t the same, but to the uneducated ear we do sound close.”

Chaz laughed. “I never said I was good with accents or anything like that.”

“What do you do, Mr Skinner?” Margie asked, keeping a close eye on Peter.

“I worked for an Argentinean-based computer company as a troubleshooter for them,

which is why I could travel around the world. I retired from there, and decided to open my own consulting firm. I missed the United States, so I set my company up here.” Roscoe took a

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bite of his burger. After he had swallowed, he said to Margie, “This is wonderful. As good as the spaghetti I had in Italy.”

Margie shook her head. “Thank you, Mr Skinner, but flattery isn’t needed.”

“Please call me Roscoe, everyone. Mr Skinner is what I’m called at work, and I’m on

vacation right now.” Charm oozed out of every one of Roscoe’s pores.

Peter couldn’t see any resemblance between Roscoe and his father, or his grandfather

for that matter. He finally shook off his shock, and spoke.

“Why did you come back home? Was it just because my mother got sick? Did you

always know I existed?”

He had a million questions trying to burst from him, yet the last one he asked was the

most important one.

Roscoe set his fork on the table before leaning back in his chair. He studied Peter, and

while Peter didn’t know what to think about it, he wasn’t about to back down. He had the

right to know the answers.

“Going right to the heart of the matter, aren’t you?”

Peter glared at Roscoe. “I have the right to know the truth, Roscoe. My father always

treated me kindly. Well, up until I came out and he threw me out of the house. Grandfather never treated me badly either. Do they not know you’re my father?”

“I’m not sure, but it seems to me they’d have to know. They aren’t stupid. You don’t

look anything like Thomas, but as long as I wasn’t around, and your mother toed the line, they probably didn’t care.”

Peter rubbed his forehead. Chaz reached over to touch his shoulder. When he looked

up, Chaz smiled at him.

“Eat, Peter. All of this will be easier to take on a full stomach,” Chaz suggested.

“I’m not sure about that. I might end up just throwing it all up.” He hated making that

admission. He was afraid it made him look weak in front of Chaz and Roscoe.

Chaz chuckled. “I’d probably feel the same way if this was all happening to me, Peter,

but I’ve learnt unexpected news tends to go down better after you’ve eaten.”

“I wasn’t sure you were mine, Peter. When I heard she had a son very quickly after she

and Thomas married, I was curious, but your mother wouldn’t talk to me after I left. I

couldn’t ask her.” Roscoe shrugged. “I had a few friends left in town, and I told them to keep an eye on you. They sent me reports about you and your mother.”

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“But you never once thought I might like to meet you or talk to you, especially if you

were my real dad.” Peter ground his teeth together, and clenched his hands.

Roscoe dropped his gaze to the plate in front of him. “I thought you were better off

never knowing me, since none of my family acted like I existed anymore. I have a question, though. How did you find out about me? I know what my father is like. I figured all pictures and mementos of me would be thrown out.”

After taking a few bites of food and swallowing, Peter replied, “I found a few pictures

in a box in my mother’s closet. She told me that they were of my Uncle Roscoe, but we could never mention you or those photos to anyone, or we would get in trouble.”

“So she kept photos of me, huh?” Roscoe’s smug grin made Peter slightly nauseated.

Margie grunted softly. “I’m not sure it’s something you should brag about, Mr

Skinner.”

Roscoe looked surprised at Margie’s admonishment, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“Why did you have to leave?” Chaz enquired.

“To be honest, I wasn’t the greatest kid. Got into a lot of trouble while in high school, and wasn’t doing much except embarrassing my family.” Roscoe ducked his head. “I got a

girl pregnant, and I wouldn’t marry her.”

“You got someone else pregnant, in addition to my mother? Jesus, man, why didn’t you

use condoms? I mean, really, if you can’t keep it in your pants, then why risk getting girls pregnant? Since you weren’t man enough to step up and accept responsibility for what you

did.” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Does that mean Peter has a brother or a sister somewhere in town?” Chaz sounded

upset. “Neither one of them knew about each other.”

“No. The other girl got an abortion. She didn’t want a kid either. But about five years

ago, I fell in love, and married a really beautiful woman. We have three wonderful kids, and I’d like you to meet them some time, Peter.”

Roscoe held out his hand imploringly, but Peter ignored it.

“Fine. I’ll have to think on that. Did you tell her you might have a son that you let your brother claim as his?” Peter wanted to know if Roscoe had ever thought about admitting

Peter was his.

“No.”

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Peter jumped to his feet, letting his chair crash to the floor. “Why did you come here

then? Did you really care about my mother? Did you expect me to welcome you with open

arms?”

Roscoe looked around the room. Chaz and Margie stared