The Man I Hate

by Hildreth, Scott

  “They asked to be cremated. It’s all been taken care of.”

  “That’s what I want, too. Something about being buried doesn’t set very well with me.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “Leave any kids back in Oklahoma?”

  “Kids?” I chuckled. “Nope.”

  “Kids get in the way of living life,” he muttered.

  It seemed like an inconsiderate thing to say, considering Braxton was willing to pick him up from the hospital, take care of him, and run to get his prescriptions.

  “I don’t know about that,” I replied. “Can you imagine life without Braxton?”

  “I dream about it sometimes. Then, I have a nightmare. One where he’s still around. Snatches me right out of my sleep in a cold sweat.”

  I turned off the clippers and stepped in front of him. “That’s crap,” I argued. “And you know it.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “Kids are like big feet. They’re with you for a lifetime no matter how much you hate looking at ‘em.”

  “You’re evil,” I said.

  He grinned. “Thank you.”

  Like most women, my early dreams included having children. The hope faded a little with each failed relationship. When I passed my mid-thirties, I wondered if it would ever happen. After my divorce, I felt fortunate that I wasn’t another single mother raising children without a father in their lives.

  “When I was younger, I wanted children,” I admitted. “Looking back on things now, I can’t think of anyone I’d liked to have had them with. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Back to my understanding life comment. It’s not always easy.”

  He patted the side of his head. “It sure isn’t.”

  After a few more careful swipes of the clippers, I was nearly done. Using the comb as a guide, I blended the sides of his hair to the top. After snipping a few stray strands, everything looked good.

  I handed Hap the mirror. “Well?”

  He held the mirror in one hand while brushing the palm of his free hand up each side of his head. “Looks good, feels good,” he said with a nod. “You did a fine job.”

  I took the mirror and removed his cape, being careful not to get hair on him. “Thank you.”

  He brushed his hands against the thighs of his pants and then looked up. “When this virus is over, are you staying or going back to Oklahoma?”

  Of all the things he could have asked, I wish he wouldn’t have asked that. It was a tough question to answer, truthfully. I’d like to think I’d be staying but had no idea how things with Braxton might change once the stay at home order was lifted.

  “I haven’t decided,” I replied.

  “What’s preventing you from deciding?”

  The sound of Braxton’s SUV caught my attention. I found his arrival ironic.

  “Uncertainty,” I replied.

  He cocked his head to the side and raised his brows. “Of what?”

  I didn’t want to admit that things might not last between Braxton and me, therefore, I didn’t care to answer the question.

  The front door opened. I glanced at Braxton, forced a smile, and then looked at Hap.

  He met my gaze, held it for a second, and then patted me on the shoulder. “No need to respond,” he said. “You just gave me all the answer I need.”

  Braxton

  The three of us stood at the dining room table, eyeing the “Welcome Home” meal Anna prepared. Hap had been acting like he had a burr up his ass since I got home from the pharmacy. I hoped the homecooked meal brought him out of his bad mood.

  Anna gestured toward the food. “We better start before it gets cold.”

  I kissed Anna. “Thank you.”

  Hap’s favorite meal was roast with carrots, onions and potatoes. He demanded my mother serve it with quartered yellow potatoes and mashed potatoes with gravy. Anna had done her best to replicate the meal, even baking homemade bread for him to mop up the gravy with.

  Sporting a fresh haircut, Hap leaned over the table. He looked everything over and closed his eyes. He drew a long, slow breath through his nose.

  Anna took her chair. “I hope everyone enjoys it.”

  I sat down beside her.

  Hap took his seat. “Smells divine.”

  I glanced at the various offerings that were on display. It was the maiden voyage for the serving platters and a good portion of the dishes we were using. To be honest, I had no idea where most of the dinnerware came from.

  I looked at Hap. I realized it was the first time he had eaten in my home.

  Excluding Christmas and Easter, the last time I could recall eating a meal with my father that wasn’t out of a takeout container was when my brother was alive.

  He’d been gone for over thirty years.

  When I lived at home, we sat down every night and ate at the dinner table, as a family. We said please and thank you. No one got up from the table without being excused, and we didn’t complain about quality or quantity, regardless of what was served.

  Yes, Sir and no, Ma’am were as common as pass the potatoes, please. We didn’t need to ask when dinnertime was, because it was at the same time every night, without fail.

  5:30.

  After my brother died, the Marine Corps became my only family. It wasn’t by choice. By design, every moment was consumed by training, combat, and travel, leaving no time for my blood family.

  By the time my military career ended, my mother was gone. Although I loved my father dearly, I never felt that he and I comprised a family. We were merely two men who were bound by blood. Together, we were a father and son team. A family, we were not.

  “Mind passing me that roast?” Hap asked.

  “Not at all,” Anna replied.

  Each item was passed from person to person until our plates were filled with all that Anna had prepared. When the last platter was set into its place, Hap cleared his throat.

  “Are we saying grace, or just digging in?” he asked. “I feel like I ought to be thanking him for letting me make it to this meal.”

  When I was a kid, my mother said grace before every meal. When I left home, the tradition stopped. Short of Anna saying a prayer before we ate the parmesan chicken, I hadn’t blessed a meal in over thirty years.

  I was surprised Hap asked.

  “I’ll say grace,” Anna replied. “If it’s okay.”

  “Probably be best if you did it,” Hap replied. “I doubt Dipshit and the man upstairs are on speaking terms, and it’s been so long since I said anything over a plate of food, I’ll likely embarrass myself.”

  Anna said a quick prayer, and we began to eat. The meal was as good as I remember it being when my mother cooked it, if not better. After I’d taken time to taste everything, I looked up. Hap was mopping gravy off his plate with a piece of bread.

  “What do you think, Old Man?”

  “I think it’s been a long time since I ate anything this good.” He looked at Anna. “You’re a damned fine cook, young lady.”

  “Thank you,” she said, beaming with pride. “For the young lady comment, and about the food.”

  Hap poked the gravy-soaked bread in his mouth. “What are you pushing?” He eyed her up and down. “About thirty?”

  “Add ten,” she said.

  “You don’t look it,” Hap said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Keep doing what you’re doing, it’s working well.”

  Hap filled his plate and returned to the table. He gave the food an admiring look. “My appetite’s coming back. I’ll pick up a couple of lost pounds right here.”

  “I need to pick up a few,” I admitted.

  Hap pierced a potato and paused. He lifted his chin and looked right at me. “You end up with this shit, Son?”

  “What shit?” I asked, although I knew exactly what he wanted to know.

  “The virus.” He poked the spud in his mouth. “Did you have it?”

  I set my fork aside. Out of my peripheral I noticed Anna stopped chewing. I wiped my hands on my napkin an
d set it aside.

  “I did,” I said.

  “Serves you right.” He swallowed. He poked another potato. “You’re an inconsiderate prick on a good day.”

  It went better than I expected. “You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry don’t cut it on a deal like this,” he said. “Being selfish almost cost my life, and yours, too. Life isn’t just about you, Son. There’s two people at this table that you need to be worried about other than yourself. In fact, right now? There’s a whole nation of people you ought to be considering.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I was inconsiderate.”

  “There comes a point in time in a man’s life when he’s got to take a good hard look at himself, and at his life,” he said. “I’m of the opinion you’re at that point.”

  I’d managed to reach that place when I was sick. When I finally crawled out of bed, it dawned on me that the lifetime I had left to live was going to be miserable if I continued in the same fashion.

  “I think I was there two weeks or so ago, when I woke up from being sick. I’d been battling nightmares for a week straight. When my fever broke, I realized a lot of things.”

  He leaned his fork against the edge of his plate. “When you took a look at yourself, what did you see?”

  “A selfish prick.”

  “Are you saying that to satisfy me, or because you believe it?”

  I hated to admit it, but it was true. I hadn’t just been selfish when it came to the virus, I’d been selfish my entire life. It was easy to see, all I had to do was take a look at the highlights.

  Devoting my life to the military while being married to a woman who never got the opportunity to see her husband.

  Leaving my father alone following the death of my mother by volunteering to be overseas for years after my obligatory 15-month combat tour.

  Depriving my father of a grandchild because I’d rather spare myself potential heartache than take a chance with a relationship.

  “Because it’s true,” I said. “I’ve been a selfish prick.”

  He tilted his head toward Anna. “What about her?”

  “What about her?” I asked.

  “When they lift the order to stay at home, what are you going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “About her,” he growled. “If you’re planning on doing anything other than what you’re doing, I highly suggest you be honest and tell her now. If you lead her to believe you’re doing one thing, and you end up going back to being you, you’ll break her heart.”

  “Nothing’s going to change,” I said.

  He scowled. “You sure?”

  I’d never been surer of anything in my life.

  “I’m positive,” I said.

  “You’ve got shit for experience with women,” he said in a spiteful tone. “How can you be sure of anything?”

  “Because,” I said. “Human beings have a propensity to lie. But a kiss will always tell the truth.”

  He grinned a prideful grin. He got up and sauntered into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet underneath the sink and pulled something out. With his hand hidden behind his back, he walked back to where we were seated.

  He dropped the object beside the mashed potatoes. It hit the table with a bang!, bounced, and the handle landed in the mashed potatoes.

  “See that?” he asked, nodding toward the table while holding my gaze.

  “Can’t help but see it,” I replied. “It’s two feet long, bright red, and in the mashed potatoes.”

  He picked it up and wiped the potatoes with his finger. He admired the hammer before licking his finger clean. “Guess what I was going to do with it.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I was planning on whacking you in your rock-hard head with it.”

  “You’re out of your—”

  He leaned over the table. “That’s exactly what I told you I was going to do if you got me infected,” he argued. “I hoped it’d knock some sense into you, too. It was going to be a two for one. Payback for making me sick, and maybe I’d knock the dumb out of you at the same time.”

  “Put the hammer away, Old Man,” I said with a laugh. “I’ve already apologized and the dumb’s long gone.”

  He glanced at Anna, grinned, and then gave me a condescending look.

  “Guess time will tell.” He took his seat. “But if you do anything stupid, remember, I know where you keep the hammer.”

  Anna

  Abstinence was oddly reassuring. It eliminated sex from the relationship’s equation. As a result, I was left to believe that Braxton wanted me there for reasons other than satisfying his sexual desires.

  Until we had the celebration dinner, I wondered how much of my presence in Braxton’s life was due to his appreciation for what I’d done while he was sick, and how much might have been out of guilt’s sake.

  Following Hap’s presentation of the hammer, I believed I was where I was for one reason, and one reason only.

  Braxton cared about me.

  The moon’s faint blue glow was all that prevented the bedroom from being completely dark. On my back with my head buried deeply into my down pillow, I stared at the ceiling fan for some time contemplating my future.

  Many of Hap’s remarks from earlier in the day came to mind. I wondered if they were seeds that he’d intentionally planted, or if I only perceived them as such. I decided it didn’t matter. The end result was the same.

  I rolled to my side and tapped Braxton on the shoulder. “Are you awake?”

  “I am.”

  “Remember after you got your test and you kissed me and then we talked about being in a relationship but I said there were going to be rules and you asked what those rules were and then I told you that we weren’t going to have sex until it was the right time?”

  “That was a run-on sentence if I ever heard one,” he replied.

  I slapped my hand against his bare chest. My open palm hit him with a thwack!

  “Answer,” I demanded.

  “Vaguely.”

  I slapped him again.

  He sat up. “Yes,” he said. “I remember.”

  “It’s time,” I said.

  He peered down at me. “For another conversation?”

  “No,” I replied. “It’s time to fuck.”

  “Is it?”

  I sat up. “It is.”

  He kissed me.

  The act had become so commonplace that it no longer took me by surprise. It didn’t make me appreciate it any less. Our kisses were special. Neither the passing of time nor the frequency of the embrace would change things. That much I knew.

  As we kissed, I blindly fumbled along the thigh of his flannel pajamas until my fingers found the fly. I reached inside. He was aroused beyond measure.

  It didn’t surprise me. When he kissed me deeply, I’d be soaking wet before we broke our embrace. It amazed me that something as simple as a kiss could evoke such emotion. Time after time, however, it did.

  Eager for our lovemaking session to begin, I stroked his length. Sensing my desires, he pulled away.

  He lowered both of us to the bed. With his chest pressed to mine, he kissed me deeply. I was dwarfed by his size. Yet. Beneath him I didn’t feel powerless.

  I felt protected.

  I spread my legs wide.

  Lost in a sea of euphoria, my eyes fell closed. My hands groped and grabbed; my mind unwilling to accept that there was any one place that they should land. His back, arms, and chest were as firm as stone, yet his lips were as soft as butter.

  His hips wedged between my thighs. We kissed like enthusiastic teens, savagely taking in each other’s taste and scent. Eager fingers explored places we had been too shy to find during the previous opportunities we had to do so.

  His swollen tip penetrated me. Slowly, his length followed, one careful inch at a time. Glued to one another, we made love, neither of us willing to break the kiss.

  On every occasion that we came up
for air I stole a glance at his moonlit face, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  His hips rowed back and forth rhythmically. His length explored places I had no idea I possessed. Each well-timed stroke pushed me closer to the brink.

  His girth swelled. I clawed my nails into the flesh of his back. The pressure within me grew until I feared I’d explode into a million little pieces.

  My ears began to ring. With each thrust of his hips our moans of pleasure became more distant, until they were almost unintelligible. Emotion cascaded over me like a waterfall, eventually encompassing me entirely.

  Coinciding with his final thrusts, his satisfaction erupted into me. I sank my teeth into his lower lip, stifling the desire to scream my pleasure into the room. Frantically, my hands slapped against the bedding. Every muscle tensed. I’d reached the pinnacle. I clenched the fabric in my fists as if my life depended on it.

  I clung to the cliff’s edge, uncertain if I could survive the fall.

  Our eyes met. He buried his length into me fully, holding it in place while he gazed into my eyes. Prepared to meet my fate, I released the bedding.

  Waves of euphoria rushed through me, each causing my entire body to shudder. Mentally, I screamed and shouted as I fell to earth, but no sound escaped me. When my mind returned, Braxton was laying at my side.

  I gazed at the ceiling, incapable of doing much else. I now knew the difference between making love and fucking. I tilted my head to the side. He swept the hair away from my face with the tip of his finger.

  “I love you,” he said.

  My heart faltered.

  I felt the same way but hadn’t expressed my feelings for fear of rejection. Now that the door had been opened, a flood of emotion rushed through me.

  “I love you, too,” I said, the words coming on the heels of a breath that shot from my lungs.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Okay?” I laughed. “No. I’ll never be okay. Not after that.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I’m ruined.”

  He kissed me. “Well, at least you’re not alone.”

  Braxton