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"You've got to help me with at least half, Henley. I just can't do it." Ruby pleaded with her ex. "Ok, ok. I'll get it from somewhere." "Dad?" ***** The smell inside of Grandpa Dan's Oldsmobile was in stark contrast to the police cruiser. There were three distinct air fresheners battling it out for supremacy. From the passenger seat John was being hit directly by an amalgam of citrus fruits. The middle of the car was overwhelmed by a pine forest and from the driver's side door, the warm scent of vanilla. Dan had said nothing so far and in fact hadn't looked at John with more than a glance. His long, fleshy hands were glued at ten and two on the steering wheel, and he hummed along with a CD of Harry James that played non-stop. John rested his head against the window using one of his arms as a pillow. It was only four months ago that they were making this same drive, but Dan's demeanor had been different then. The inside of the Oldsmobile wasn't used to the kinds of words that came out of his mouth that time. John was used to them. Grandpa Dan only cussed when he was angry, and he was always angry around John. He couldn't let it go. Tess Barber had something he wanted. Something he needed. Why wouldn't she just give it to him and let him be free. Not every memory of his father belonged to her. He was going to have to take it. If she wouldn't cooperate, he had to force the issue, but was it worth it? He had thought so seven years ago on the night of his dad's funeral. He didn't try to talk to her then, just broke the glass on the back door and helped himself. Before she came home and called the police, he hadn't found anything except pictures of the two of them all over the house, trophies and keepsakes with his half-brother Todd's name on them. John was the original, and it was like he didn't even exist. John Barber spent three months in the county prison and two years on probation. Somewhere during that stretch he forgot about his dad and what Todd had told him at the funeral. Forgot it until he was lying in bed at night staring at a water-stained ceiling and listening to the neighbors through the thin walls of their apartments. While they screamed assaults at each other through the slurred speech of drunkenness, John remembered. Then cursed himself for giving a shit. The car had stopped several minutes earlier, but John had been lost in thought and never noticed. When his father released him, he recognized the light out in front of his apartment building. He looked over at his grandpa and found the old man's hands still firmly gripping the steering wheel. Dan's eyes, normally a hard blue, were milky and wet. He stared out the front window at nothing. "Grandpa, are you all right?" John asked, putting a hand on a bony, but still muscled shoulder. There was no immediate answer. His fingers uncurled, and re-curled around the steering wheel. "I don't know what to do anymore," he finally said, his voice a whisper. "I thought when your mother died last year that I couldn't ever be any sadder." John slumped in his seat. "You only get so many years, Johnny, and you're pissing them away." "It'll be over soon, and then I'll get it together." Dan laughed bitterly. "It's that note again, isn't it?" "I need to see it. If she would just give it to me . . ." "And then what?" "I don't know. But I have to see it." "God, Johnny, you're ruining your life for something that doesn't exist." "Todd saw it." "That boy lives to jerk your chain. When are you going to use the brain God gave you?" Dan finally turned to look John in the eye. "Your father was lower than the turds I drop into the toilet bowl every morning. You didn't need him growing up, and you sure as Hell don't need him now." "I know what Dad was, all right?" John shouted. "But I need to see what he wrote to me." "He didn't write anything to you. The man couldn't be bothered to speak to you for most of your life, why the Hell would he write you a letter?" John buried his head in his hands, rubbing his palms into his eyes. When he looked up again, large red spots circled his cheeks. "I have to go." Before Dan could speak, John jerked the Oldsmobile door open and stumbled out onto the road. He shut the door and felt the window sliding down. "Johnny," Dan said softly. John bent down and looked at his grandfather face to face. "I'm not bailing you out again tonight." "All right." He backed up and watched the car pull away, leaving him standing alone under a streetlight. ***** The door finally opened and she stood there glaring at him. Johnny glared back. He knew someone was home, but he had had to knock for ten minutes. "I want to see my dad," he said with as much anger as his thirteen-year-old voice could muster. "He's not here. You should have called first," Tess snarled back at him. "I have called. A dozen times, and you always answer, and you never let me talk to Dad." "It's not my fault you call when he's not home." "You're a liar!" "Go away. Henley's not home, and I don't want you here." The door started to shut, but Johnny put his shoulder into it. The door swung back, the knob smacking Tess in the stomach. She doubled over, her long blond hair flopping into her face. Johnny ran through the living room. "Dad!
Dad!" The kitchen and pantry were empty. He turned to go
back to the staircase leading to the second floor, but Tess was
in the doorway. |