Chapter 3 - What Caleb Was Really Asking For
Renee waited until Caleb came home from school before bringing up the sneakers.
He found her sitting at the kitchen table with his old basketball shoes in front of her.
"Caleb, come here a minute."
The boy stopped.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No, sweetheart."
He approached cautiously.
Renee held up one of the shoes.
"How long has this been coming apart?"
Caleb shrugged.
"A couple weeks."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
Renee frowned.
"When?"
"Last month. I said my feet kept sliding at practice."
She remembered him mentioning something about his shoes.
At the time, she'd been answering work messages.
She had told him they would look into it.
Then she'd forgotten.
Renee examined the worn rubber.
"These really are finished."
Caleb looked away.
"Coach said I could probably borrow some shoes if I needed to."
"Why didn't you tell me that yesterday?"
"Because I wanted my own."
His answer was simple.
Renee nodded.
"That's fair."
She slid the shoe aside.
"Can I ask you something?"
Caleb hesitated.
"Okay."
"Why did you cross out that note about James coming to your tryouts?"
The boy's face changed.
"You saw that?"
"I was collecting your laundry. I wasn't trying to snoop."
He studied the table.
"Doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
Caleb rubbed his thumb along the edge of his sleeve.
"James is mad."
"He's upset with me, sweetheart. Not you."
"Then why did he tell me to call my real dad?"
Renee felt a sharp ache in her chest.
Caleb continued.
"Darnell said he'd buy me new basketball shoes for my birthday. But he forgot."
Renee looked up.
"Your father promised you shoes?"
Caleb nodded.
"He said we'd go shopping together."
"When?"
"Back in August."
Renee remembered that conversation.
Darnell had called after missing Caleb's birthday dinner.
He had promised to make it up to him.
Renee had assumed the matter had been settled.
"I waited," Caleb said. "But he never came."
His voice remained quiet.
"Then I saw these shoes online. They're on sale."
Renee reached across the table.
"Baby, you should've told me."
Caleb looked at her.
"I didn't want you to get mad at him again."
The answer made her pause.
She had spent years trying to protect Caleb from disappointment.
She had avoided criticizing Darnell in front of him.
But she had also allowed him to carry the weight of broken promises alone.
"That isn't your responsibility," she said.
Caleb nodded without looking convinced.
Then he asked, "Does James think I'm only nice to him because he buys me stuff?"
Renee's eyes filled.
"No."
"Because I don't."
"I know you don't."
Caleb swallowed.
"He helps me practice. And he taught me how to shoot from the corner."
Renee smiled faintly.
"I remember."
"Sometimes I ask him to come outside when I don't even need help."
"Why?"
Caleb looked embarrassed.
"Because it's fun when he's there."
Renee reached over and squeezed his hand.
For the first time since the argument, she understood how much larger the problem had become.
The sneakers cost sixty-five dollars.
But Caleb was worried that the man he trusted might stop wanting to spend time with him.
Later that evening, James stopped at his friend Terrence's electrical supply shop.
They had known each other for fifteen years.
While Terrence checked an order, James told him what had happened.
Terrence listened quietly.
Then he asked, "So what did Caleb do?"
"He went upstairs."
"Was he crying?"
James hesitated.
"Looked like he might."
Terrence stopped writing.
"Man, you know that boy loves you."
James sighed.
"I love him too."
"Then why'd you tell him to call somebody who barely shows up?"
James looked away.
"Because Renee keeps telling me I'm not his father."
Terrence nodded.
"That's something you and Renee need to work out."
"I know."
"But Caleb heard you telling him he wasn't yours."
James stared at the counter.
Terrence continued.
"I'm not saying you should buy whatever anybody asks for. I'm saying you can't settle an argument about respect by making a kid wonder whether you still want him."
James didn't answer.
On the drive home, he replayed the conversation.
He had been so focused on forcing Renee to acknowledge his place in the family that he hadn't thought about how the words would land on Caleb.
When he entered the house, the boy was sitting on the floor near the couch, tying the loose sole of his basketball shoe with a rubber band.
James stopped.
"What's going on with that?"
Caleb quickly moved the shoe behind his back.
"Nothing."
James crouched beside him.
"Let me see."
The boy hesitated.
Then he handed it over.
James examined the damaged sole.
"Buddy, you can't play basketball in these. You could slip."
"I know."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Caleb looked at him.
"Because I didn't know if I was allowed to ask you anymore."
James felt the words settle heavily.
For a moment, he couldn't speak.
Then he placed the shoe gently on the floor.
"Caleb," he said, "we need to have a talk."
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And for once, James wasn't thinking about discipline, money, or proving a point.
He was thinking about how to make sure the boy knew he still belonged.
