The Folds

by Clint Townsend

  Sarah heard him jiggling the handle then pacing in the hallway. She exited the kitchen and hollered to Danny from downstairs, still sobbing, “I wanted to leave it exactly how you left it. When you didn’t come back I…”

  He didn’t want to wait for her explanation and decided to kick in his own bedroom door. As he entered the room, his heart and mind were simultaneously set afire with memories, wishes, and regrets. The posters, lamp, sheets, furniture, clothes…all were exactly how he left them that fateful night in 1986. Even more so, all had remained the same since his father’s death in 1978. It was as if time had skipped over his room.

  Danny kicked off his boots, stretched out on his bed, and stared at the ceiling. Above his bed were the sun-bleached and faded posters of Gene Autry, John Wayne, Superman, and the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. He heard Sarah trying to quietly climb the squeaky stairs and raised up just in time to see her shadow stop in front of his door. She raised her hand and leaned forward in preparation to knock, but instead turned away and went to her bedroom.

  Danny lay restless and awake late into the evening. He then remembered something his father had said to him years before when he was little. Tommy once said, “You know, if you can’t sleep, you can count your blessings to sleep. Works for me!” With that he began to go through all the things he was thankful for. He was soon fast asleep, but like his grandfather, mother, and daddy, Danny snored something fierce.

  Something stirred him from his sleep. He woke up completely alert and sat upright in his bed. His bedroom door was closed and nothing appeared disturbed, but sensing something was amiss, he quietly tiptoed to the door. He pulled it open with a slight creak, just enough to peek through, but there was nothing to be seen. He climbed back in bed, lying on his right side, turned away from the door. As he closed his eyes, he heard the faint but distinct sound of boots walking across the downstairs wooden floor. He opened his eyes when he then heard the stairs squeaking, then the sound of his door opening. He tried to lie still, but fear, nervousness, and curiosity got the best of him.

  He quickly sat up to find his door now open and Tommy standing at the end of his bed. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief for a moment to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but Tommy didn’t move. His father’s hands were clasped in front of him and he was dressed in his best black suit. His full, curly blond hair was slightly swept back and his skin had a healthy bronze sheen, as if he had been working outside for a while. He looked as handsome and healthy as the day he died. With a loving smile, Tommy said softly, “Danny, why are you so angry? Why do you cry for me?”

  Danny paused for a moment and looked about the room, searching for the right words to answer to his dead father. “I still love you!” he proclaimed. “I miss you so much! And you’re not here anymore to help me!” He lowered his head to his hands and wept heavily after having finally admitted his fear and loneliness. Seconds passed before he raised his head to find that his father was gone. “Daddy?” he called, yearningly. Looking to see that the door was once again closed, he fell back onto the bed and cried deeply, silently, and breathlessly. While rolling onto his right side, he drew a deep breath to refill his expired lungs. He wrapped his arms around the extra pillow and felt the warm sensation of his father’s hand lightly sweep across his forehead.

  Sleep came peacefully, almost immediately. He was home.

  THE MORNING AFTER

  I t was late in the morning when Butch arrived at the DPS offices. He made it a point to visit each of his three precincts at least once a month and spend a couple of days with the district’s sergeant. While making his rounds of greeting the officers and staff, he noticed that Sarah had yet to arrive. Thinking he may have just simply missed her somewhere along the way, he went back to the break room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and headed to the operators’ console.

  “Has anyone heard from Sarah this morning?” he asked the dispatch operators, glancing at his watch. His only reply was that of shrugging shoulders and shaking heads. He had recently received several formal letters of complaint from members of the administrative staff expressing concern over Sarah’s noticeable dependence on alcohol. The complaints ranged from “not showing up on time” and “falling asleep at her desk” to “erratic behavior and emotional instability” and “appears incapable of focusing on or completing assigned duties.” He had counseled her many times over the past few years and recommended she check herself into a detox center, as well as attend AA classes. Unfortunately, reaching out for help was not one of Sarah’s strong points.

  Butch entered his temporary office and walked behind the desk, sipping on his coffee. As he opened his leather satchel to unload his computer and paperwork, Sarah tried to briskly walk past his open office door without being noticed. “Sarah!” he bellowed without skipping a beat.

  She stopped dead in her tracks, tilted her head back, and released a deep sigh.

  “Sarah? Would you come here please?”

  She slowly wrapped herself around the doorframe into the brightly lit office.

  “Good morning!” he proclaimed zestfully. “Good to have you here with the rest of the family!” he stated with a slight slap of his palms on the desk. “Can I get you anything?” he asked politely as he stood then walked toward Sarah and the two armchairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat! C’mon, let’s you and I just talk for a minute.”

  She sat down somewhat clumsily without saying a word, making sure to keep her sunglasses on and her head tilted down to the left, away from Butch.

  “Sarah,” he began quietly, but sternly, “you have got to get this under control! You can’t allow yourself to continue down this road. I won’t allow this behavior to persist, and Huddleston surely wouldn’t put up with this if he knew. You need to—”

  “Can you close the door please?” she requested sheepishly, interrupting Butch.

  “Sure. Yeah. I’ll close the door.”

  “Something happened last night. Something that I hadn’t expected…” she explained as Butch took his seat to her right.

  “Hm mm,” he murmured as she removed her sunglasses and turned to face him.

  “Wow! Are you okay?” he asked, surprised to see the large, swollen, and discolored area on her left cheek and eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” she laughed nonchalantly, “as okay as can be expected, I guess.”

  “What happened?” he asked, pulling her chin up and to her right to get a better look in the light. As he examined her bruise, tears began to roll down her cheek.

  “You’re not gonna believe this!” she stated, trying to reign in her emotions. “My baby came home last night.”

  He removed his hand from her chin and hesitated before responding, slightly taken aback by the statement. “You sure? You weren’t uh…you weren’t just drinking and imagining this? I mean, ’cuz, I know you been waiting a long time for some kind of news.”

  “My baby came home!” she stated proudly, taking a Kleenex from her purse. “He came home yesterday afternoon. He walked up on to the porch lookin’ like he had come back from goin’ to go to the store or sumpn’. He just walked on up to the house.”

  Still a little skeptical of the validity of the story, Butch offered a flat response. “Well, good. I mean…that’s great! How long has he been gone? Thirteen…fourteen years?”

  “Nineteen,” she answered. “Almost nineteen years.”

  “Well, good for him. I mean good for you. Good for both of you! I guess we need to celebrate.”

  THE HOMECOMING

  A few weeks later, Sarah hosted a cookout in celebration of Danny’s return. It was a late Saturday afternoon and most of the DPS staff was in attendance, including Sgt. Huddleston. John, Jason, Ron, and Casey were also there; however, their wives didn’t come as there had been a gradual falling out of the five girlfriends. Joey, Monica, Holly, and Terri remained as close as ever, but Sarah’s continued downward spiral into isolationism, alcohol, and depression, coupled with her withdrawal from church, placed a hefty str
ain on the quintet’s relationship.

  After a few rounds of hand shaking and civil, yet insincere, greetings, Danny retired to the safety of the kitchen for some quiet time and a beer. Moments later, he peered through the kitchen window and watched as Butch pulled in, exited his car, and walked up the gravel drive with a platter of deviled eggs in hand. He sipped on his Shiner Bock, watching Butch greet each and every officer before approaching Sarah. After a word or two, Sarah turned and pointed to the house. Butch handed her the platter of deviled eggs and followed her motion with a nod and smile.

  You could always tell where anyone was in the Albright house by the wood floors and how the house communicated through sound. Danny could hear Butch and the high-pitched, hollow knocking as he and his boots strode across the wood-planked front porch. Next was the sandpaper shuffle as he stopped in front of the door, followed by the tightening sproing of the screen-door spring and ultimate slam against the frame. Finally, a pair of Tony Lama’s made low, dense thuds on the hardwood floor, letting Danny know that Butch was nearing the kitchen. He stood there, quietly staring out the window, just waiting for Butch to enter.

  “What’s a guy gotta do t’ get a beer ’round here?” Butch asked jovially as he pushed open the two-way swinging door.

  “Bottom of fridge,” Danny mumbled, pointing to his right.

  “Thanks!” he belted out, pulling back the handle on the old Frost Point refrigerator. “Ah,” Butch cooed as he reached in, grabbed a beer, and twisted off the cap. “Good ol’ Shiner!” He stood a moment in awkward silence, smiling, waiting for a response. “Here’s to you, Danny!” he kindly offered, extending his bottle.

  Danny turned his head ever so slightly to the right and raised his bottle with a slight roll of his eyes.

  “Welcome home!” Butch congratulated as the two men toasted each other, clinking their bottlenecks. “Great party!” he added politely. “Ribs, slaw, burgers, beer…it’s a beautiful day!”

  “If you say so,” Danny grunted, then turned and walked out of the kitchen.

  “Well, it’s probably good to see all these people after such a long time. Ain’t it?” Butch inquired, following Danny through the swinging door to the living room.

  Danny behaved as if he hadn’t heard a word and slumped heavily into his father’s leather armchair.

  “Do you know who I am?” Butch asked, taking a seat on the couch directly across from Danny. “I haven’t seen ya in a long time. When I did see you, it wasn’t exactly the most—”

  “You’re Cleo Farley,” Danny bluntly interrupted, taking a swig of his beer. “You’re the one who helped pull me and Daddy out of the car. You didn’t throw up when you found the girl’s head by the curb of the sidewalk, but you did when you saw Billy out in the intersection.”

  Butch sat upright, placed his beer on the coffee table, clasped his hands together, and concentrated on his words. “I know this is hard for you.”

  “You know nuthin’ about what’s hard for me!” Danny exclaimed rudely.

  “I’m just sayin’ I know what it’s like to not have a dad or mom around. You’re a kid who’s forced to grow up too fast. I know. You ’n I are a lot alike,” he confided with a smile and a nod of his bottle.

  “Oh, really!” Danny smirked. “And how’s that?”

  “Well, for one we both lost our dads. You were what…nine? Ten?”

  “Ten.”

  “I was just turning ten when I decided to lose my dad,” Butch stated, momentarily revisiting his past.

  “Decided?” Danny asked.

  “Yeah. Mom ran off when I was seven. My dad was a professional drunk!” He smiled slightly as he thought back to his early childhood. “He used to hit on her something fierce. Happy, sad, great day, bad day… Daddy would drink to escape and Mom ’n me would wish to do the same. One mornin’, Mom went to work n’ never came home. That’s when Daddy turned his attention to me.”

  “Bad?” Danny asked with a grin then sipped his beer.

  “Bad enough,” Butch admitted with a chuckle. “But when I got older I’d go to ol’ man Cierly’s garage and he’d give me two dollars to sweep, clean, pick up, dump, mop, shovel, fill ’er up. Two dollars!”

  Danny recounted similar scenes of his past nineteen years at Charlie Doyle’s as he listened to Butch’s tale.

  “I’d stay as late as I could just to not go home. Stop by the store on my way home, get some bologna and bread, make me some sandwiches, maybe leave one for him. I’d take a bath, get some clothes, then do my homework. Daddy would always wake up loud from a big night of drinking. I mean he was loud! If he was up, then everybody was up. I’d hear him coming outta the living room and man, I’m tellin’ you…I’d jump up and outta that bed and hide between the wall and mattress!” Butch briefly chortled to himself as he reminisced. Only now could he look back and try to laugh through the pain. “I did that for years ’til I got outta high school. Went to college, graduated with a double major and honors. Now…here I am, having a cold one with you.”

  “So how does that make you and me a lot alike?” Danny asked, not seeing the similarities.

  “Bad things happen,” Butch stated plainly. “That’s life and you can’t get away from it. You can’t let the events in your life take the life out of you! You and I, and maybe that boy who caused your wreck, we’re alike in a lot of ways. We were all trying to run away.”

  After pondering the statement, Danny rose from his chair, saying, “Maybe so…” then walked past Butch. “But then again…” he added, pausing at the door, “…you and I didn’t shoot the ones we loved.”

  The spring on the doorframe recoiled and slammed the screen shut. Butch sat alone on the sofa, slowly sipping his beer.

  PROVE IT TO ME

  Early that following Monday, just two days after the cookout, Butch heard the beeping of the motion detector for the foyer doors of the DPS offices. He walked to the door, and poked his head into the hallway to see who, or what, set off the alarm. He was pleasantly surprised to find Sarah not only arriving early for work, but smiling and humming to herself.

  “Sarah?” he called, and motioned for her to come to his office. He paced in a small circle until she appeared at the door. “Sarah! Hey, good morning!” he greeted enthusiastically, shaking her hand. “I just wanted to say thanks for having us out to the party on Saturday. Great time!”

  “Oh yeah! Sure!” She smiled broadly. “You did have a good time, right?”

  “Yeah, oh yeah! A ball. Got fat as a tick,” he admitted, patting his belly. “Say, I went in to go get me a beer and Danny was in the kitchen…”

  “Yeah, he said he had a talk with you. Did you get along with him okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah…got along fine…” He held out his hand for Sarah to join him at the armchairs in front of the desk. “I was wondering, and I hate to ask this, but…did Tommy ever talk about case specifics or impending investigations with Danny?”

  “No, not directly,” she answered, trying to recollect anything out of the ordinary. “But I imagine every once in a while we would talk about something he needed me to do with some filings or assembly of reports that had to do with a case, but with Danny? Never. Why do you ask?”

  “Well…” he began, clearing his throat, “…he said something about a particular event with some very specific details that have never actually been released as public information.”

  “You know… Danny was always a great kid…that is, he was a great kid ’til the day of his wreck,” she stated, but with a slight shake of her head and sorrowful look. “After he came out of his coma, he started saying he could see who was driving the car that caused the wreck…what happened…then what was gonna happen. Very unnerving! Then one day he said Tommy was gonna be shot…then he get shot.” The two sat and silently read each other’s face. “But you and I know that’s just coincidence!” she dismissed with a wave of her hands and a slight, nervous chuckle.

  “Right…” he agreed, but not at all convinced.r />
  “I’m gonna pick him up for lunch later. You want me to ask him anything for you? ’Cuz I—”

  “No, no,” he interrupted as they both stood. “I’ll just talk to him next time I see him.”

  “Well, he’s comin’ back with me from lunch so we can do some shopping later. He needs some new clothes. Badly!”

  “Well, why don’t you let me go pick him up?” Butch suggested. “That way he and I could talk a while. We’ll pick up your lunch and maybe, uh…I’ll let ya leave early to go shopping.”

  Taken slightly aback at the sudden act of generosity, Sarah stood quietly, skeptical of the arrangement.

  “That sound all right?” Butch asked.

  “You sure about this?” she replied, uncertain if she should be suspicious or grateful.

  “Sure I’m sure!”

  “Well…yeah! Yeah. Thanks. That’d be great!” She shook his hand and turned to leave his office. Although she outwardly smiled and said yes, deep down inside she hid a frown and her mind told her, Uh-oh.

  At around 11 a.m., a dense, loud knock at the front door surprised Danny as he ate a bowl of Corn Pops at the kitchen table. He jumped to his feet and briskly walked to the entryway. Upon opening the door, he was shocked to find Butch standing on the porch. After a brief pause, with his arms spread out wide, Danny smartly greeted Butch. “Ah! Officer Biggus Brainus Goodus Gradus! You grace me with your presence once again.” He opened the door wide, bowing as he spoke, as if addressing and making way for royalty. “Entrée, entrée.”

  Butch glanced over Danny’s wardrobe of bleached and tattered shorts, oil-stained T-shirt, mismatched socks, and unshaved face.

  “Where’s Mom?” Danny asked, closing the door behind Butch. “We were supposed to have lunch then go shopping.”

  “I volunteered to come ’n get ya,” Butch admitted with a friendly smile. Danny turned and entered the kitchen without so much as saying a word while Butch further explained, “Yeah, I, uh…wanted to get out for a while ’n get a bite anyhow.”