Compound Fracture by Andrew Joseph White

Author:Andrew Joseph White [Joseph, Andrew White]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Holiday House
Published: 2024-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

Dad and I eat lunch outside in the grass, under the shade of an old tree—tuna salad and crackers for him, a bologna sandwich with chips for me. We pass a thermos of Kool-Aid back and forth. I give in to Lady’s begging and toss her the sandwich crusts I peel off as I go.

We’re comfortable in silence. We always have been. So of course I have to break it.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?” He ain’t looking up from his phone. I wonder what he’s reading. Probably some news article, bypassing digital paywalls on the New York Times. Or researching how to put solar panels on the house. Mom would freak about the upfront cost, but it’d help with the electricity bills if we could get the landlord to agree.

I bite a chip in half to stall. “I, uh. The night that I . . .”

That gets his attention.

“Got hurt,” I finish. “You fell asleep at your computer. I saw what you were working on. The emails, the maps, that stuff. Figured Mom would be upset if she saw, it so I, you know, hid it. Covered it up. Whatever.” I pick at another piece of crust before tossing it Lady’s way. “Were you actually going to try? Running for office again?”

Dad reaches out for the Kool-Aid. I hand over the thermos, but he just fidgets with the handle.

“I was thinking about it,” he says. “You know, I love this country. I’ve always had a lot of faith in it, even when it does the wrong thing. And there’s been a lot of wrong, ain’t there? Internment camps, Vietnam, Iraq; we could sit here all day. But despite everything, I still believe, here”—he points at his chest—“that it’s the best country in the world.”

I don’t believe that at all, but I let him keep talking.

“It’s got the building blocks,” he says, “the potential. It could live up to its promises and make up for its mistakes, if it really tried. And for a minute, I really thought we were headed there.

“So last year’s election rattled me. I thought, look at this cruel, greedy liar running for president—ain’t no way he’ll win. As a people, as a country, I figured we were better than that. We weren’t gonna fall for some egotistical asshole making fun of disabled journalists and treating women like shit, right?” He shrugs. “But here we are. And that night, I remembered how I felt all those years ago, before we all got hurt. Like everything was so wrong and I had to try. Because, hell.” He offers a tight smile that makes him look a lot older than he is. Same as Saint, with the coal dust permanently etched into the lines of his face. “That’s not the world I wanted you to grow up in. I wanted to do better for you.”

The smile falls.

He says, “It’s just—”

“We could try again,” I say. “Next election cycle. You have a few years, but you’ve got your work cut out for you.

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