Chapter 33

My first phone call was to Beth. I could tell by her voice she was tired. I guess when you're a single mother of a very active toddler and a small baby, you're always going to be tired. Mack and Ellie helped out, but they made it perfectly clear the kids were their grandkids, not their babies. I wondered how my mom had survived as long as she did.

I sensed it wasn't a good time to be calling her, but I guess Beth could tell from the tone of my voice that something was bothering me.

"I just wanted to call you and tell you I miss you, Beth," I said when she persisted. "You mean the world to me and I haven't always let you know that. You were the only thing that kept me going sometimes and I could never thank you enough for all you've given and all you've done for me.

"We've grown apart over the last few years. I'm sure it's mostly my fault, and I want to apologize for it. I want you to know how much I love you and how much I miss being your friend."

Beth was sobbing into the phone.

"Things are rough for me, R.J.," she told me. "I've closed some doors I wish I hadn't. You are the main one. Greg was so jealous of you and of us. He couldn't fathom that two people who had once been lovers could become close friends. So, I pushed you away. Now, the kids and Greg are driving me crazy. I've wanted to call for help so many times. But I couldn't bring myself to put my pride away and call you. I've been sorting through my life since Melissa was born. If you don't mind, I'd like to bring the kids to visit you in the spring. I know your Aprils aren't too busy, if that would be a good time."

I told her I'd always make time for her.

"Don't ever worry about calling me," I told her. "You're the best friend I've ever had and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Beth told me she'd keep in touch and I told her I planned to call her parents and let them know how much I loved them, too.

"I think it's something they might like to hear," she said.

My call to Mack and Ellie thankfully contained less tears.

"When you left for Alabama," Ellie told me. "I expected you call me a thousand times with silly questions about life on your own. I expected the same thing when you got to Phoenix.

"Then I saw you could make it just fine without me."

I told her it only showed she'd raised me well.

"Ellie, I can honestly say that I don't know where I'd be without you and Mack," I said. "I know it wouldn't be as nice a spot as I'm in now. You took me in and made me feel like I'm your son. You always knew exactly what I needed, whether it was a kick in the butt, or a pat on the back. I've got some awfully big decisions to make in the next couple of weeks, and I want you and Mack to be a part of those decisions."

"I think the decisions you make are going to have to be your own," she said.

"I have to make the decisions, but you can help me to make sure I don't make the wrong one," I told her. "If I remember, that's what families do."

Mack was an easier conversation right up to the end.

We talked about my choices and what they'd mean to my future.

At the end of the call, I told him what I'd decided recently.

"Mack, you know I don't know who my father is," I said. "As far as I'm concerned, you're my dad. You always treated me like a son so I'm going to be coming to you for some fatherly advice in the next few weeks."

Mack choked back a sob when he told me he'd be happy to help me decide.

The call to Tom was less serious. He and I had stayed in touch mostly by e-mail. He had married and was working for a computer firm in Richmond, Va. I didn't ask his advice because I knew what it would be — go for the most money and the most women.

He gave me far different advice, unbidden.

"When I was in high school, the only thing I could think of was getting out," he said. "When I was in Lexington, I was happier, but I still didn't want to live there. In the last three years I've moved five times, always looking for something better. Now I'm in Richmond. I'm married. I'm fairly successful. But I still wonder what's on the other side of the rainbow. My wife is the same way. You've met her. You know it.

"We keep putting off kids until we find where we want to be. But part of me thinks I might be there already. You've seen a lot of major cities and college towns during your travels. Have you seen any place you like better than where you are?"

I told him I hadn't.

"It seems strange coming from me," he said. "But you might actually be better off standing still for a little while. I can't tell you what to do, but I'd recommend you look around at where you are and what it offers. Not just professionally. You'll do fine professionally wherever you land. But look at, and think about, where you want to build your life." When we hung up I wondered when Tom had gotten so smart — and when was the last time he'd spoken to me without calling me "Dude."

I put off calling the Stenstroms. OK, I chickened out. But I did talk to Sara. It's tough to have a serious conversation with a 17-year-old girl. So I just told her I'd been thinking a lot about her lately.

"We've lost touch since I came to Phoenix," I said. "Part of it was the distance between us. Part of it was the fact you're growing up. Part of it was the fact our friendship was always a little weird to begin with.

"I know you're ready for college and you're looking forward to it. I hope you have a great time. But I also want you to know you mean a great deal to me and I'll always be here for you.