by D. K. Wall
The worst, of course, was the accident. Nathan had hobbled into a courtroom on his crutches to face a citation for underage drinking. The judge glared at him, lectured sternly, and sentenced him to community service. After the leg casts were removed, he spent six Saturdays leading up to high school graduation picking up trash under the supervision of a deputy. The others in his work crew shared their own tales of being caught driving drunk, losing their licenses, and jail time in addition to the trash detail.
But as tough as facing that judge was, the real punishment was everything else. The emptiness of his room as the bed along the other wall sat vacant in accusation. The awkward silence around Ronnie as he mourned his son’s death. The absence of Danny from school as he sat in jail, awaiting his own trial—and then his time in jail after his conviction. The gnawing fear the state would swoop in, remove him from Ronnie’s care, and assign him to a foster home. And his own painful weeks in the hospital followed by outpatient physical therapy. Picking up trash was more a relief than a punishment, getting away from the other repercussions for a few hours.
But this was a whole different level of trouble. Never before had he worn handcuffs, sat in a jail cell, or had to worry about bail. Shame washed over him, a paralyzing ache of regret, at the mere thought of standing in front of a judge and being accused of shoving his wife and slugging one of his childhood best friends. He collapsed on the couch and held his head in his hands.
His worst fear was whether Jacob knew. He wondered if they had told him.
Probably not yet. Either Matt or Colette would drive him and Luke to the ballgame. Donna would probably wait until after, leaving him to enjoy the innocence of the game.
The thought of the game sent Nathan’s thoughts racing.
How was Donna going to explain my absence to Jacob? Or, worse, how could she hide her injuries? Jacob would see her pain and wonder what kind of monster he had for a father. They would be forced to tell the story.
And, of course, he would hear their version of the story before his dad’s. She would conveniently skip over Hank in the bedroom. Her explanation would make it sound like Nathan’s fault.
Unless he wanted his son to hate him forever, he had to tell Jacob before she did, to control the story, and to ensure he understood that Nathan had never meant to harm his mother. And he had to explain that no matter how wrong he had been to react violently, he had been pushed by her horrible betrayal.
Damn the restraining order. Nathan needed to explain things. He promised himself to be fair, to highlight his own mistakes. He just wanted to frame the story so that Jacob could be prepared when his mom’s turn came.
Danny’s closed bedroom door confirmed he was still sleeping off the drinks. A few minutes was all Nathan needed to make a quick, quiet phone call.
He pulled himself up from the ragged couch and lifted his pants from the back of the kitchen chair to retrieve his cell phone. The pockets were empty, and no frantic searching changed that. Slipping the dirty pants over his boxers, he surveyed the room until he spied a pile of personal effects on the kitchen counter. His wallet and keys and a collection of coins waited for him, but no cell phone.
He scanned the kitchen counter and cluttered dining table, shifting beer cans. The top of the TV held the old remote. The blanket was tossed on the floor. He slipped his hands between the couch cushions. Dropping to his knees, he searched underneath the couch—a few coins and some dust bunnies, but no phone.
Balancing himself on the edge of the couch, he surveyed the small room. He was positive he had remembered to take his phone when he was released from jail. It came out of the same envelope as everything else, except for his wedding ring, which he’d hocked for bail.
Memories flashed in his mind. Last night. Sipping a beer and studying his phone. Scanning for a text or a call. Thinking Jacob might call to say good night. Like he would withstand embarrassing himself in front of Luke to call home. The look from Danny, telling him not to call. His sheepish grin in reply. Laying the phone on the table with his keys and change and wallet. Danny had sat right there and watched him do it.
Damn it. Danny had watched. And when he drifted to sleep under the weight of beer, Danny had swiped the phone and hidden it to prevent a desperate call in the middle of the night—or in the morning.
To prevent exactly what he was trying to do.
Someday, he might thank Danny, but not then. That morning, he ached to talk to his son. With no land line in the trailer, the only other phone was Danny’s cell. With a glance at the bedroom door, Nathan resigned himself to not calling—at least, not right then. Maybe later. From work. When Danny won’t know.
He picked up his T-shirt and slipped it over his head. He sat on the couch and pulled on socks and boots before clumping around the small kitchen, purposely making noise. He needed Danny to drive him to work. And he wasn’t going to let him hide his phone without some punishment in return.
Within a few minutes, the bedroom door squeaked open, and Danny wheeled into the den, his hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. “Morning.”
“Phone,” Nathan demanded.
“Someone woke up a little grouchy this morning.”
“I want my phone back.”
“So you can call Donna?”
“No.”
“Ah, so you can call Jacob.” When Nathan didn’t deny it, Danny rolled into the kitchen and scooped grounds into the coffee maker. “Calling your son is an even worse idea than calling your wife. What time is it?”
“I don’t know. The only clock I have is on my phone. If I had it, I could see the time.”
Danny ignored the dig and continued, “Six a.m. Do you think Jacob is awake at six a.m.?”
Nathan dropped onto the couch and sighed. Jacob was smart in school, a talented athlete, and a good kid, but he was also a late sleeper. That boy was impossible to pry out of bed on weekend mornings. “I have to try. Please.”
“If you call right now, you know as well as I do that Matt or Colette will answer the phone and not Jacob. You won’t get to talk to your kid. But they will tell your wife that you called. You think you can smooth it over with her after the rest of this mess? Do you want to spend the rest of the weekend in jail for violating the restraining order?”
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the ceiling. “So I’m just supposed to give up?”
“No, of course not.” Danny rinsed two coffee mugs as the pot gurgled out the dark liquid. “I have a plan, but you need to listen first. And then I need you not to screw everything up, but let’s start with listening.”
“A plan?” Nathan bit his lip. Danny wouldn’t return his phone until he was confident no call would be made. He could always sneak a call later, but listening was his only choice now.
“Not really a plan,” Danny said, “but a step. After I drop you off at work, I’m going to call Donna and arrange to go get your clothes.”
“That’s it? You get my clothes? And that was my plan for you anyway.”
Danny poured two cups of coffee. He balanced one on his chair as he wheeled to Nathan and handed over the cup. “And here I thought you were too drunk to remember. While I’m getting your clothes, I can talk to her. Find out where her head is. Maybe even without Hank standing there.”
“I’m still waiting for the new part.”
“Very simple. I’m going to tell her the truth.”
Dumbfounded, Nathan sat the coffee cup on the table. “I’m not following.”
“I’m going to tell her you are worried about Jacob and his need for stability. You’re willing to work with her to make the divorce go smoothly because all you care about is how your son handles it.”
Nathan sat still, eyes blinking. “What’s that going to do?”
“I’ve known Donna as long as you have. What she’s doing with Hank, going behind your back, that’s wrong. Here’s the thing—deep down, she knows it. She’s just not that type of person.”
“So, what, you think she wou
ld break it off?”
A wan smile crossed Danny’s face. “No, I think she really cares for Hank. Maybe even really loves him. But I also think she cares for you.”
Nathan’s face scrunched up. “Then I don’t understand. What are you going to accomplish?”
“Now that everything is out in the open, my bet is she feels bad about hurting you. If it didn’t bother her, she would have told you about Hank months ago.”
“I wish she had.”
“Exactly. So does she.”
“So how is this a plan?”
“Simple. She feels bad about hurting you and doesn’t want to hurt you any more. And she really doesn’t want to hurt Jacob. She would protect that boy from anything. So when she figures out you can accept her being with Hank, she’ll understand and want things to be the best for Jacob.”
“Which means working with me on custody so that we both can see a lot of him?”
“Exactly.”
Nathan scratched the side of his head. “But won’t Hank object?”
“Why would he? He wants Donna. Jacob’s just part of the package. In fact, he might even be cool with the kid being around less. I’ve never thought of Hank as a paternal kind of guy.”
Nathan laid his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “You think she really will back off this whole domestic violence thing?”
“Why wouldn’t she? Jacob needs you in his life.”
“And I need him.”
“Exactly.” Taking a deep breath, Danny counseled, “You need each other, and Donna knows that. She loves Jacob too, and you know it. So go to work, get that boiler fixed, and I’ll do my best to plant those seeds in her head.”
Nathan sat in silence. He could barely think of life without Donna, but he couldn’t imagine life at all without Jacob.
Danny reached out and patted Nathan’s knee. “I’m only asking for a few hours. When you get off work, meet me at Sammy’s for lunch. I will tell you how it went, and then you can decide what to do next. But whatever you do, stay off that phone until then. Do I have your word?”
Nathan dropped his face into his hands. Minutes ticked by without a sound in the trailer. Danny sat and waited until he muttered through his fingers, “Deal. I won’t call Donna or Jacob until I get your report. I’ll be a good boy.”
Danny leaned back in his chair. “Good. Now, here’s your phone.” Danny pulled the phone from his pocket and held it in the air. “You get this only on your promise you do nothing and we meet after you work. Agreed?”
“I promise,” Nathan mumbled.
Danny tossed him his cell phone. “Look, Nathan, Donna might be mad at you, but she loves that boy. I think she will do anything for that kid, including making sure he gets to spend time with his dad. But even if I fail this morning, what could change in a few hours? We can still work out another plan.”
Nathan nodded, resigned. “For Jacob. For a few hours. No promises after that.”
“Fair enough. For Jacob.” Danny wheeled into the small kitchen. “And now we have a couple of minutes to kill before we go retrieve your truck, so you get some of my world-famous omelets.”
Nathan looked incredulous. “World-famous? In what world? I’ve eaten your cooking before, remember?”
Danny smiled. “In my own little world, my friend. The only world that matters.”
The truth was that Danny’s omelets were awesome. As kids, they’d all thought it funny that the brusque football player was so comfortable in the kitchen, but Martha had taught him well. And breakfast food was his specialty.
Nathan’s stomach growled as he watched his friend chop onions, peppers, and mushrooms and sauté them in a cast-iron skillet along with some diced ham. After moving the cooked fillings to a plate, Danny cracked and whisked three eggs before pouring them into the hot pan. As they cooked, he grated cheese and added the vegetables and ham before folding the eggs over them. He delivered the steaming omelet to the kitchen table before starting a second omelet for himself.
Nathan poured a cup of fresh coffee, settled into the chair, and cut a first bite. The rich flavors melted across his tongue.
When Danny rolled over to join him at the table with his own breakfast, Nathan had already eaten half his omelet. He mumbled through a mouthful of food, “Not bad.”
Danny chuckled. “Best omelet ever, and you know it.”
Nathan scooped another mouthful of eggs and savored the flavor. “You really should have your own breakfast place. The restaurant would be packed every day.”
Danny dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter. “Don’t start.”
Nathan opened his eyes wide in mock protest of his innocence. “Oh, have I said that before?”
Danny picked his fork back up and jabbed at his friend. “You and my mother conspiring against me. The thanks I get for letting you sleep on my couch.”
“After sleeping on that couch, I should sue you for bodily injury.”
“Sue me. Go ahead. You could get all my worldly possessions, and that might buy you a cup of coffee. And that, my friend, is why I can’t afford to open my own breakfast place. No money. No credit. No business.”
Nathan scooped in another bite of the omelet, closing his eyes as he savored the taste. “Take over the deli side of the business from your mom and add a full breakfast menu to go with her biscuits. We can scrounge an old grill from somewhere, and I can get it working. You got room to add some more tables. It won’t take a fortune.”
“My dad would get a kick out of that, me cooking breakfast rather than fixing cars like I was supposed to. Without the garage open, that old store barely breaks even, and you know it.”
Nathan twirled the fork in his hand, thoughts racing through his mind. Second only to the Marines, the four friends had often talked of working on cars in Abe’s garage. However, by then, they imagined the store would belong to Danny and Colette. But Danny never wanted to discuss car repairs after being confined to his wheelchair.
“So we reopen the garage,” Nathan said. “I fix cars. God knows no one around here can afford to buy new ones. You run the restaurant and the store. And you know the store would be more profitable if you added beer back to the coolers. People wouldn’t have to drive out to the interstate stores then.”
After gathering the empty plates from the table, Danny balanced them in his lap and wheeled to the kitchen sink. “My dad would never go for beer back in the cooler.”
“Oh yeah? If you offered to come back to the store, he would probably agree to anything.”
Danny scrubbed the dishes and stacked them in the drying rack without speaking. He didn’t utter his next words until he picked his van keys up and spun back around. “Ready to go? Got to get you to work.”
They settled into the van and drove silently toward Sammy’s Pub and Nathan’s truck.
Nathan watched his friend drive before speaking. “Would you at least think about it?”
Danny’s thumbs thumped against the steering wheel. “I am thinking about it.”
Nathan cocked his head. “Really?”
“That night, the wreck—it’s haunted me ever since. Being in jail wasn’t the worst. Even this damn chair isn’t the worst. I deserved both of those. Some nights, sitting in that god-awful trailer, I thought about just ending it.”
“Danny—“
“No, wait. Let me say it. Do you know why I didn’t?”
Nathan sat twisting his fingers. “Why?”
“You kept coming by. Taking me out to Sammy’s. Or for a sandwich. Or a pizza. Or just to sit on that couch and watch a football game with me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Danny, I’m your friend. That’s what friends do.”
“But that’s why I’m thinking about it. I know I need to get out of that trailer and get a job rather than live off a disability check. I’ve just never felt worthy of it after what I did.”
When Nathan started to protest, Danny waved him off. “I know we talked about
it in high school. When I got back from the Marines, I would take over the store from my folks, and we would fix cars together. But then, after that night, I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me every day. And then when I thought maybe you would, I figured you would never leave Ronnie high and dry. Donna would freak about the lack of a steady paycheck. And you wouldn’t do anything she didn’t agree with.” He pursed his lips as his fingers drummed on the wheel. “But if you two aren’t together, if the factory closed, you might actually do this.”
Nathan turned and looked out the passenger window. Danny was right. Being on his own, he could take the risk that some weeks wouldn’t bring in much money. And Ronnie would be proud if he struck out on his own with a real business plan. “Go into business with my best friend? Yeah, I would definitely do that.”
Danny pulled the van into the pub’s empty parking lot and stopped beside the pickup truck, sitting alone in the far corner. He shifted into park and wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeves. “Let’s get you through the next few days and then talk some more about it.”
“Deal.”
“But remember your promise for today?”
Nathan’s hand rested on the door handle. “Yes, I promise. I won’t call. I’ll go to work and then meet you back here for lunch.”
“Good,” Danny replied. “Are you going to tell Ronnie?”
“I have to.” He climbed out the door and stood in the parking lot. “He’ll hear soon enough about it anyway, and he would be madder if I didn’t tell him first.”
Danny nodded and handed him a thermos.