Chương 65: Chapter 64: Cats in the Cradle (09/02/1984)

DATE: Sunday, September 2, 1984 LOCATION: Carlsbad, California | Tillman Residence LOCAL TIME: 08: 00 PM PST Doug wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag, the rough fabric doing little to steady the violent tremor in his fingers. The sun had finally dropped below the horizon, leaving the driveway cool and heavy with the grounding, familiar scents of motor oil and cut grass. It was a perfectly normal suburban evening. Except for the boy sitting on the overturned bucket by the garage door.

Doug stopped wiping and just looked at him. Really looked at him. Chad was pressing a bag of frozen peas against his shoulder, dressed in the exact same matching, footie-style pajamas his younger brothers wore. The childish clothing was a jarring, sickening contrast to the violent, adult-sized bruises blooming purple and yellow across his neck and collarbone. This was his eight-year-old son. But as Doug stared at the dark, exhausted bags beneath the boy's eyes, he felt a terrifying distance stretching between them.

Chad was slipping away, drifting into a dark, heavy world that Doug couldn't control or understand, and Doug had absolutely no idea how to pull him back. Doug let the oily rag slip from his hands. It hit the concrete with a soft slap.

"I miss you, Chad," Doug said, his voice thick with a sudden, suffocating grief. Chad's expression softened. He lowered the bag of peas slightly.

"I'm right here, Dad."

"No, you're not." Doug walked over, his knees popping as he sank down to the concrete so he was eye-level with his son. The proximity only made it worse; he could see the sheer exhaustion settled deep in his boy's face.

"Maybe this was a bad idea. I feel like I sold my son…" You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The words tasted like ash. The guilt Doug had been swallowing for months finally spilled over, cracking his voice. Chad looked at him with an earnestness that didn't belong on a child's face.

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Dad. You're a good father. You've always been there for me when it really mattered, and I know that." The silence that stretched between them was heavy. Doug waited for Chad to cry, to break down, to reach out and ask his dad to make the hurting stop. Instead, Chad's voice came out calm and steady, actively trying to shoulder his father's guilt.

"You didn't sell me. I volunteered." Chad offered a small, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.

"I am building the roof so you can build the home. Everything is going to be fine." Doug felt his stomach drop. Through the open living room window behind them, the bright, thudding sounds of Nick and Chase wrestling on the carpet drifted into the driveway. Chad pointed a bruised finger toward the window.

"Go inside, Dad. Be their father. They need you to be normal for them right now." Chad paused, his voice turning incredibly gentle.

"I know you love me just as much as them. You just... you know how to help them. You don't have to worry about helping me." Hearing his eight-year-old try to comfort him—seeing this little boy willingly carry the emotional weight of their fractured family—broke something deep inside Doug. A tear slipped free, cutting a clean line through the grease on his cheek.

"And you?" Doug asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Who holds your hand?" Chad pulled the bag of frozen peas away from his shoulder. Doug winced at the mottled, swollen joint, but Chad just looked back at his dad with quiet resolve.

"I hold the wheel," Chad said. Ten minutes later, the low hum of an engine drifted down the street. Doug stood frozen in the driveway as Uncle Jack's car pulled up to the curb. He watched his eight-year-old son—now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, carrying a duffel bag packed for the long weeks ahead—climb into the passenger seat, heading north to Hollywood to begin filming. Chad didn't wave. Jack didn't stop. The car simply pulled away, its taillights bleeding red into the dark.

Doug stood alone in the cool air for a long time. Finally, he turned his back on the empty street and walked into the house, knowing with absolute certainty that his son was drifting out to sea, and there was no lifeline left to throw him.