by HJ Bellus
Laughter escapes me with my thoughts. It feels foreign and odd, but no guilt hits me from enjoying a good chuckle. I keep Guy on my right side as I begin to truck down the paved road. I keep the leash short to avoid any oncoming traffic. Just like I thought, he starts out strong, giving me no time to warm up my legs. I’m pedaling as fast as I can, keeping an eye on the tail end of Guy who is running with all his might.
His ears flap with his movement. I get peeks and glimpses of his tongue hanging out of his mouth as his legs fly down the road. He learns my speed, and I grow accustomed to his speed, and soon we settle into a comfortable pace.
The basket Jed put on the bike comes in handy, especially when having Guy on the end of the leash. I missed the basket and rack he installed on my bike at first glance.
Nestled between the front handlebar is a white wicker basket. I don’t have to worry about balancing any grocery bags on my handlebars and pay attention to Guy. The metal rack installed on the back is perfect for hauling several bags of groceries back home.
As I peddle, my lungs work overtime. Adrenaline courses through my body, creating a natural high. My daily mountain climbs have shaped up my legs, but it’s still a push on my body. I feel alive again, living.
My mind drifts to Jed. I’m more determined to figure out the puzzle of the man he is. I pedal into the store to find the parking lot empty. Nothing like the other day when there were several customers. I grow frantic, wondering if they’re closed on certain days of the week or maybe shut down for a few hours of the day. Reality slaps me upside the head…I know little to nothing about the dynamics of this town or family. I’m walking in the dark with no light. Jumping into the deep end with no life preserver.
I get off the bike and tug Guy to me and pat him then kiss the top of his head. When I stand back up, I notice the open sign and also the no pets allowed printed underneath it.
“Well, shit,” I whisper to myself.
I didn’t think that one through very well now, did I? I swivel around to walk down to the river to get Guy a drink of water since he’s panting up a storm. As I do, the door to the store flies open, slamming into the center brick wall.
Fender’s hand waves frantically as he runs toward me shouting my name. Even though he’s shouting my name, it’s not me he wants to see. He skids on his knees across the gravel and dirt, not making eye contact and I’m thankful for the jeans he’s wearing.
Guy is as excited to see him. His tongue darts out, lapping up Fender’s face with doggy kisses. The two roll around on the ground, Fender giggling and Guy enjoying all of the attention. Before long, the two are both dirtballs.
“Fender!”
I look up to see Jed storming out of the store. As soon as he sees his son, his whole body relaxes, the tension leaving. He runs his hands through his dark hair, making it stand up on end. There are dark lines underneath his eyes. He looks stressed and like shit. I’ve noticed his skin color change over the days.
I muster up the confidence to wave. “Hey, stopping by to bring you Bryant guys a thank you gift.”
I peer over at the basket where the stupid box of Pop-Tarts rests. This might be one of the dumbest decisions I’ve ever made. Like these three men need a box of Pop-Tarts! They own a whole goddamn grocery store, and more than likely have a cabin with an oven, fridge, and stove where they could make a lot more things than a toasted freaking Pop-Tart.
Jed walks over to Fender, kneeling down next to him. He ruffles Guy and Fender’s hair, glances over at me, gifting me with one of his sexy head jerks, and sighs, the tension building right back up. Then he cups his son’s cheek, making him look at him.
“Fender, what have I told you about running off and not telling me where you are going?” Jed’s voice is stern but not mean or menacing.
Fender drops his face into the top of Guy’s head and mumbles. “I sorry, Dad. I got so sited when I saw my best fwiend.”
Jed grabs his son, pulling him to his chest, hugging him tightly. “Fender, that’s a good thing to be sorry and admit it. Thank you. I know sometimes things get a bit exciting and you forget to tell me where you are going. You need to try hard to tell me where you’re going next time. Even though Moore is a small town and everybody knows you, it’s no different than when we were on the tour bus going from city to city. Do you understand me?”
Fender doesn’t respond with words, but his little head bobs up-and-down against his dad’s firm and steady chest. Jed kisses the top of his head and rubs circles on his back with his loving hand.
His arms are covered in a flannel shirt. It’s then I notice Jed looks like he’s been out chopping wood or working on something with his hands. He’s covered in dust, smears of dirt on his face and arms.
“Well, what do we have here?”
I look up to see Caleb striding out with a big smile on his face. He doesn’t hesitate, making his way to wrap me in a hug. His thick arms go around me, pulling me to his chest. My body slams into his, and I remain stiff as a board. Caleb doesn’t seem to catch onto it because he doesn’t stop hugging me for seconds. It’s all a friendly gesture and what I’ve come to expect from this man from the couple of times that I’ve met him.
He steps back and plants both hands on his hips. “Just in time for the family fishing trip, Marlee.”
My eyes go wide. The single phrase family fishing trip sends trepidation through my body.
"No.” I shake my head and fidget with the hem of my old t-shirt. “I wanted to bring you guys something for being so kind to me.”
I hold up the box of Pop-Tarts with a weak smile. “I know this looks cheesy and is stupid. You can tell me it’s stupid. But I’m thankful for how kind you guys have been to me from bringing dog food and Jed for fixing my bike.
“It took a lot for me to venture into town and you guys made it easy on me. I would’ve baked an apple pie or something more spectacular, but the old Airstream makes it kind of hard to do that.”
Caleb grabs the box of Pop-Tarts from my hands, letting out a victory cry. Fender bolts into action, taking after Caleb, leaping up his body trying to grab the Pop-Tarts from him. Jed shakes his head and stands up, brushing off his tattered jeans. They’re worn and well broke in with tears along the front of his legs. It does something to me.
He walks over to his brother and son who are fighting over a box of sixteen count strawberry frosted Pop-Tarts. The whole scene is confusing. I’d guess Jed is about to slap Caleb in the head and roar out a warning, but there’s a sly smile on his face. His bow-tie, angel lips frame his pearly whites.
Caleb doesn’t notice Jed sneaking up on him from behind as he continues to taunt Fender with the box of Pop-Tarts. Jed’s long arm reaches over and grabs the box. It takes Caleb and Fender a few seconds to realize they’ve both been played. Jed tears the top of the box open then rips into a package. His large, strong hands I’ve admired strumming a guitar on his music videos sandwiches two Pop-Tarts together and takes a huge bite. Damn near, downing half of them in one bite.
“Thank you, Marlee. Something you need to know about us Bryant boys is that we take our Pop-Tart game very seriously.
“We couldn’t figure out who bought the last box of the strawberry ones and it put us all in a shitty mood. You’re more than welcome for me fixing your bike. Hope it’s working well for you.”
He barely gets the last word out before Caleb has him wrapped in a headlock and bent over. Fender reacts without a second thought, grabbing both the box and the pastries his dad was chowing on. There wasn’t much left of his little sandwich.
“Got ‘em, Banky.” Fender jumps up and down in victory, holding them above his head. “Dad, you is a sucker.”
Fender is up and over Jed’s arm in a flash. Caleb saves the damn Pop-Tarts before Jed begins spinning in circles and tickling Fender’s sides. The joy streaming from Fender is contagious until Fender declares his big wiener needs to go pee. Jed jolts inside for the bathroom. His long legs eat up the parking lot until he disapp
ears into the store.
“Where is his mom?” I shake my head. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
Caleb shrugs, getting to enjoy a Pop-Tart. “Naw, it’s okay. She’s a bitch. Left when Fender was a week old. Jed never really loved her. He knocked her up, and she wanted to continue her career in being a groupie in the country music scene and not a mom. Jed’s raised him ever since even while touring the world. That little boy has seen more of the world than I ever will.”
I open my mouth, but there are no words even to begin to respond to what he shared. Caleb waits for a few beats before continuing to spill their life history.
“Mom and Dad moved here six years ago after our family went through hell. They bought the store, bar, and restaurant and have been running it ever since. Having their only two children home has been good for their spirits and well around here since old age isn’t being nice to them, it makes them feel more at peace. Jed was busy on tour and still made the time to make short visits, but now he’s back home.”
My curiosity is overwhelming, dying to know more about the hell his family endured. Call it misery loves company or some shit like that. Caleb’s shoulders fall, and that simple gesture tells me it has more to do with him than Jed.
The phone inside the store begins ringing with a shrill. The door is left wide open from when Jed and Fender busted in. Caleb gets a devilish grin, and he winks at me.
“Hey, mind going and grabbing that for me? And I’ll go grab you a fishing pole.”
I take a step back, shaking my head, refusing to step foot into that store. I have the man all figured out. Somehow, he sensed I was going to bolt and not go fishing with them. But if he has me answer the phone and he goes and grabs a fishing pole, there’s no way I can escape.
“Come on, Marlee, you’d make Fender’s day. We have a pretty cool spot where there’s a fishing hole and also a low stream Guy and Fender could play in.”
With each word, Caleb takes a step back until he’s almost to a little shed off to the side of the store.
“Dammit,” I whisper.
He has my back pressed up against the wall, leaving me with no choice. The phone rings another time, and I dart inside the store, round the counter, and answer the phone. I stumble, opening my mouth not recalling the name of the store. How in the hell am I answering the phone in a store that I don’t even know the name of? This is ridiculous.
I open my mouth again and answer with a simple hello.
“Is this the Bryant’s Store?” The voice is confused on the other end.
I clear my throat. “Yes, it is.”
“Oh, okay. Is Jed Bryant available?”
I shake my head nervous for some reason and then realize the person on the other end cannot see me.
“He’s busy right now. Can I take a message for him?”
“Yes, please. This is Sandra with the Intermountain Cancer Institute, and we need to talk to him as soon as he has a free minute.”
My hand begins to tremble around the phone. “Okay. Does he have your phone number?”
The lady lets out a sigh on the other end. “Mr. Bryant surely does have our number and knows the extension to my direct line.”
I pause dumbfounded not able to understand any of this. “Okay, I will be sure to relay the message. Thank you.”
I hang up the phone, the sound of the receiver hitting the base echoes around the empty store. Cancer. The Intermountain Cancer Institute. None of it makes sense. It can’t be true. My first thought goes to Fender, but he’s a healthy little boy. One of the most active kids I’ve seen in my life. He’s always running on the tip of his toes excited about life.
The sound of Fender running down an aisle pulls me from my thoughts. Maybe it’s a fundraiser or donation that Jed Bryant donates to regularly? He is, after all, a country star. Maybe they want him to perform for a fundraiser? That has to be it.
My gut’s telling me it’s none of those things. It’s much, much bigger than anything I can process. So massive that it may make a person hate life. A problem that erases a career from a man who was on top of the world in the country music scene. A problem so horrific it has turned a man into a skeleton of despair and anger.
I look up to see Fender sprinting out of the door, hollering over his shoulder, telling his dad he’s going to find Banky. I don’t know the whole story or even the reason behind it, but I’m assuming it’s because Fender wasn’t able to pronounce Caleb’s name and Banky stuck. Ironically, it’s a good fit for the goof.
Jed stops on the other side of the counter, placing his palms down, staring at me. I feel like my face says it all, yet I don’t know where to begin.
“Was the phone ringing?” he asks, leaning on the counter.
I nod, and he waits for me to go on. He scared me from the first time I met him with his pissy attitude, but the rest of the time he's been respectful, gentle, and quiet.
It all makes sense now. He’s sick.
I clear my throat and steady my voice before speaking. “It was Sandra calling for you.”
I’m too big of a chicken shit and coward to give any more details. He nods. A simple reassurance letting me know he doesn’t need any other details on who was calling. I want to say something else to him, offer up some comfort, or even just be a friend with a listening ear. I know more than anyone how infuriating it is to have people wanting to help you when there’s not a damn thing they can do.
Words are useless when you’re so fucking hurt you barely manage to put one foot in front of the other. A scab torn from a wound that’s been infected time and time again when someone asks how you’re doing or offers help. All it does is pump poison through your veins, making your wound seep.
Caleb leans his head in, letting out a little whistle. I look over to him to see his hands on each side of the door jamb, leaning in as if he was going in for a push-up. He has a grin plastered on his face, but that’s typical for him. I’ve only seen him flustered when the orders were messed up, and I had to help Fender to the restroom.
And it all comes together making sense in a crystal clear picture. He’s the glue, the backbone, the foundation keeping this family held together. Everybody handles stress, anxiety, and worries in a different way. Some of us show up and run away, some of us grow fearful and frightened and quit living, while others are able to joke and laugh remaining resolute for the best outcome. There’s no doubt in my mind that’s what Caleb is doing for his twin brother right now.
“Damn, girl, you look good behind the counter.” Caleb lets out another little whistle. “How much for that milkshake you rocking back there?”
Jed pushes off the counter, shaking his head. “Jesus, Caleb, do you ever give up?”
Caleb mirrors his twin brother’s action, pushing off the door jamb. “Can’t keep a good guy down or that’s what I’ve heard in one of your cheesy-ass country songs.”
“Get me to the goddamn river to fish. I need a beer in my hand and some distance from you, dip shit.” Jed walks right past Caleb and outside.
I turn and look through the window to see Jed scooping up Fender in his arms, tossing him up in the air and bringing him right back down to his chest. Fender cups the cheeks of his dad, bringing their noses together. And then grows restless in his dad’s arms, but Jed doesn’t let him down.
He grabs the back of his head and brings his lips to Fender’s forehead. I watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, his body full of tension and anxiety as he takes a minute to soak in his perfect son.
Caleb clears his throat. I didn’t realize he was now standing next to me watching the same scene.
“It ain’t good, Marlee.”
Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. But they’re not for me. They don’t represent my loss and everything I endured. No, it’s for the little, sweet, innocent boy clutched to his dad’s strong chest who has no idea his dad is sick.
The tears fall for the man holding a little boy who knows he’s sick and more than likely
dying. I have no idea how I would’ve felt if I knew my days were numbered before the accident. What would I have done knowing day in and day out I was going to lose it all?
Would I have grown bitter and angry? Yes, I would’ve because how else do you manage to survive and embrace life when you know your days are numbered?
We stand shoulder to shoulder, looking out the window. Jed’s lips are still pressed to Fender’s forehead. Caleb’s fingers lace in mine and we stand here watching the beautiful moment hand-in-hand.
Caleb is the first to talk and it comes out as a whisper. “So do you want to go fishing with us?”
I go back to the question I was running through my mind earlier, how would I have lived knowing Bentley and Hope’s days were numbered, and I only had a handful of them left to live and experience the wonder and enjoyment of being pregnant? I don’t know what the answer would’ve been back then. But I sure do know what it is now.
Fender loves Guy and Guy loves Fender. I enjoy Caleb’s company, and if I’m honest, he keeps my mind off the past. I’m intrigued by Jed. I have been since the day he came into the store growling like a rabid beast. There’s something there, and if I can be of any help or assistance to him, I will be. I know with a shattered and tattered heart like mine, I’m not the best person to offer comfort or a solid foundation for somebody, but the entire situation tugs at my heartstrings. It’s the same sensation I had the day I tried to drown. A higher power is nudging me in the back.
“Sure.” I shrug.
Caleb claps his hands together. “Good. Company is always good. Thank you, Marlee.”
Caleb kisses the side of my head. There’s nothing sexual about it. I feel the relief flow from his body. He’s exhausted.
24
“a sky full of stars and he was staring at her” Atticus
“What’s your story?” Caleb nods his chin my direction.
I can’t take my gaze away from Jed and Fender downstream. Fender is loving his dad tossing him in the water. Jed pretends to get sucked into the water when Fender tugs on his leg. Ain’t no fish going to be caught with this damn ruckus around us. I’m used to it by now. All three of the Bryant men were shocked I was able to out fish them. It always starts out serious then Jed and Fender end up in the water.