Richard Dorsey, a tall slender and well-groomed man, swings his keys with the Ford emblem attached as he furiously departs his home. “Well thanks a lot Page, for being my freaking shrink,” Richard yells as he walks out.
“Richard,” his wife Page screams as he slams the door behind him. He stomps his way down the walkway through the muggy southern night. He unlocks and climbs into the shiny black 1967 Ford Galaxy that awaits him on the street. He slams the heavy metal door behind him, throws the key into the ignition, and pats the gas pedal viciously. Turning the ignition the starter whines, but the engine just coughs.
“Thanks a lot Dad, this piece of shit won’t even start,” he curses. Turning the ignition again, the engine comes alive with a deep growl of a beast. Grabbing the shifter, he throws it into drive and mashes the gas causing the tires to squeal and launching it from the curb.
Roaring down the main street, Richard receives a beep on his cellphone. Looking down at his phone he notices that it is Page calling him. Grabbing the phone he presses ignore and tosses it back onto the seat. He looks up to see a small boy chasing a ball in the middle of the intersection. Slamming on the brakes with both feet, Richard tries to stop the car. Sliding to a halt too late, he hits the child with the car. Richard leaps from the car like a superhero rushing to the aid of the small child. “No. No. No. Please don’t let this happen. Not like this,” he screams. As he makes it to the front of the car, he finds sixteen-year old Terrance Jackson lying out on the road. Bewildered at the sight he pauses, this is not the child he saw in front of him. Still looking for the boy he thought he hit, he rushes over to check the teenager’s vitals. He finds a pulse then grabs his phone to call 9-1-1. “Are you okay,” he asks. The young man, barely conscious just groans in pain. Richard nervously stays at the boy’s side until the police and ambulance arrive to take him to the hospital.
Terrance lay in the hospital bed with a cast on his right leg, right arm, and bandages wrapped around his ribs. Richard pokes his head through the door, “Hello,” he calls out. Terrance, groggy from medication, looks over and nods. Richard eases into the room and sits in the chair next to the bed looking over the young man that had once lay in the street, and says, “How you feeling Terrance?” Terrance looks at him a bit confused. “ The nurses told me your name.”
“I feel like I got hit by a car,” he smiles. “They got me on some pretty good drugs though.”
“I’m so sorry man. I…”
“It’s okay. I walked out in front of you,” he interrupts. “I told the cops it was my fault so you don’t have to worry.”
“I know. I’ve already spoken with them.” Terrance just stares at him with a questioning look upon his face. “I wanted to see if you were okay.” Terrance nods with a smile of approval. “So what were you doing out at that time of night? I’m pretty sure your parents were worried sick.” Terrance looks away from Richard and turns attention to the television.
“I don’t know my dad and my Mom is probably with her friends or something. She hasn’t even come to see me yet.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“She called,” Terrance answers as a tear rolls down his cheek.
“I sorry Terrance.”
“It’s okay sir…”
“Richard.”
“I’m used to it. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was nine,” he explains.
“I didn’t know my Dad very well either.”
“Did your Dad run out on you too?”
“No. He was hardly ever home,” he tells. “But when he was, he only had time to for his car. Now he is dead and I have the car.”
“So why don’t you just junk it than,” Terrance asks.
“When I was about ten years old, my brother and I wanted to play ball with my Dad and he was too busy washing his car. I went inside for a moment and when I came out my brother had chased the ball into the street. My father wasn’t even paying attention to him. I think of my brother when I see or drive the car.”
“That sucks,” Terrance responds.
“Now, my wife is pregnant and …”
“You don’t want to be like your father,” Terrance completes his sentence.
“Yeah.”
“Well, at least you know how not to be a father.”
“What?”
“I always say when I have kids I will be an awesome father because I know exactly what not to do. Thanks to my parents.”
“I’ve never looked at it like that before,” Richard contemplates.
“You should. Plus, you should forgive and…”
“Forget right,” Richard interrupts.
“No, never forget, but learn from your father’s mistakes and be the best parent you could be.” Terrance finishes his speech, and then turns towards the television. Richard sits there and stares as the young man painfully adjusting himself to a more comfortable position.
“You’re a pretty smart kid Terrance.” He looks at Richard with a slight grin.
“If I was so smart, I would have walked out in front of a softer car.” Richard returns the grin as he stands from the chair. Richard turns to leave; he reaches the door then returns to Terrance’s bedside. He slips his hand into his pocket, pulls out the keys with the Ford emblem, and lays them on the table next to the bed. Terrance stares at Richard in disbelief.
“She is all yours now,” Richard exclaims with a smile before departing the hospital room.