Human Novel 34

Chapter 34 “There is no land like the land of your childhood.” Michael Powell
My heart was a drum pounding in my chest as I stood on the porch of a tiny white house. It was tiny
and tucked into the suburbs, so much so that even my Uber driver had missed it. There wasn’t
anything glamorous about it but I could tell it was well-loved. The tiny garden by the front of the
house was blossoming and the white picket fence looked freshly washed. |)
This was the address Steve had given me. It was nearly an hour from the airport in a tiny, suburban
town called Yorba Linda. It was a relatively easy trek from the airport even if the Uber ride had been
costly.
This is it, Clark. Just ring the doorbell.
As I pressed the doorbell, I could feel the adrenaline pumping
through my veins. Fight or flight, Clark? It’s not too late.
Part of me wanted to turn around and take off. Where I’d go, I’m not sure. But now that I was
actually standing in front of the door, all I wanted to do was flee. I felt completely unprepared. It
had been seven years — what was I supposed to say to the woman who abandoned me seven years
ago?
Unfortunately, I didn’t have any more time to mull it over. I heard the echo of footsteps on the other
side, and then suddenly, the door opened and I was face-to-face with Uncle Steve.
Fight, it is.
A knot settled into my stomach. He looked almost identical to what Iremembered him to be – with
just a few more wrinkles and a thinner face.
“Clark!” His deep voice boomed, and then he pulled me into a crushing hug. “It’s so good to see
you, kid! You look so grown up!” I managed to wrap my arms around his large frame, and inhaled
his scent. He smelled just like I remembered too — like tobacco smoke and citrus. The man had
always had a thing for citrus fruits.
Steve was a large man. Not as tall as my dad or most of the male wolves I’d known, but he made up
for it in bulk. He was a gym rat and even with my head buried into his shoulder, I could tell his
biceps were still as big as tree trunks. *)
His bald head and heavily-tattooed arms didn’t make him look any
less intimidating either. While I’d always known him as a big softie, he certainly looked the “tough
guy” part.
“Uncle Steve,” I breathed, “It’s good to see you.” He pulled back and I caught a glimpse at the big,
wide smile on his face.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, kid,” he said, and I could see tears pooling in his
eyes, “But enough of this sappy stuff. Let’s get inside. I’m sure you could use something to eat or
drink.”
| couldn’t deny that a home
interior was just as cozy as the outside, and the house defin
meo
lush pillows on the couch. For as long as I could remember, Steve wasn’t much of a relationship g
ars, Clark. A lot h
Steve flushed and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, there is someone,” he said, “We’ve been
together for, uh, awhile. Years,
really. We can talk more about that later, but she makes me happy, Clark.” \*
about you as a kid. You were also rescuing my mom from every littl
yours
Steve gave me a half-hearted chuckle. “Speaking of your mother,” he said, “She’ll be getting home
from work any minute. Why don’t you take a seat at the table and I’ll whip you up some food? I can
practically hear your stomach growling from across the room, kid. You still like box mac and
cheese?”
,” I said, taking a se
hen t
e first things [’d learned to cook for myself. I couldn’t always count on my mother to provide dinner
when she was on a bender or
However, once I moved in with my dad, the days of box mac and cheese were over. Worrying about
dinner was no longer my responsibility. That was now Grace’s responsibility. | traded Kraft mac and
cheese for homecooked roasts and steak with mashed
potatoes. If we did have macaroni and cheese, it was always made from scratch. I think Grace
would’ve had a heart attack before she
willingly made her family box mac and cheese. \°)
ed to wrap my head around the fact that I was even sitting in this kitchen with Steve. For so long,
eve, or anyone else. He was upset for a long time that she had kept me from him, and it fe
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mom or bringing up Uncle Steve at the dinner table was a no-no.
t so much as a phone all or a visit, I just felt abandoned. I didn’t want to
answers. I can ask her why
eps entering the house echoed around the
be your mother,” he
The door to the kitchen swung open and I caught my first glimpse of the mother I hadn’t seen in
seven years. She had aged but I could tell it was her. The same red hair, brown eyes, and freckles
were unmistakable.
We’re still the spitting image of each other.
he looked over at me. “Cl
‘There was a lump in my t