by Iona Rose
“I’ll go home,” I say and turn to grab the remote so I can turn the television off. I’m then reminded of the movie we were in the midst of watching before we got preoccupied. I also remember the question he asked me earlier on.
What moves people?
An idea occurs to me, so without thought, I turn around to face him. “Let me go with you.”
He is just about to head towards the front door when my words sound across the room. I know that I spoke lightly, but in the expansive space and given the delicacy of what I’m saying, my voice seems to have been amplified a hundred times.
“Thank you, but—”
“Grady, remember the movie we just watched? You never know. It seems unlikely but maybe there might be a difference if he sees you with me.”
He studies me. “It’s not that simple.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But maybe it is. My father was in the military too. I know what it’s like to lose one and I don’t think your father would want that to be the case for you. This might be a start and if it doesn’t work, then you just brought your assistant along. Not much of a big deal there.”
He releases a heavy sigh at my words, and then nods his head.
I almost don’t believe he has agreed to it. Quickly, I get myself together and we exit the house.
About forty five minutes later, we arrive at the station and I walk in with Grady to bail out his father. I stand aside but I’m soon able to hear from the Sheriff as he speaks to Grady about what transpired.
Apparently, his father was rude to a woman in the store, pushing her roughly aside to get out of his way in one of the aisles. Her husband watched it happen and confronted Grady’s father, telling him to apologize. His father resulted to using his fists and at the end of the day, both men were severely bruised and injured. The woman’s husband is insisting on pressing charges, especially at Grady’s father’s unapologetic behavior.
I watch as Grady goes silent at the information, and then looks towards the cell where his father is being held. A little while later, he comes over to me and we both turn to watch an older man released from the cell.
He has an ugly purplish bruise on the side of his face, disheveled hair, and stained clothes. He’s limping just a bit and muttering curses under his breath. He stops the moment he sees Grady, and the both of them glare at each other without a word. Then his father turns and yells, “Mark! Why the fuck do you keep calling him? Is he paying you for this?”
“I wish he was Gary,” the response comes. “I wish he was.”
“They’re going to press charges,” Grady says to his father who is almost as tall as he is albeit slightly overweight.
“Let them do whatever the fuck they want,” the older man snaps and heads out of the building.
I head over then but he more or less swats me out of the way without even caring who I am.
Grady holds on to me and I can see the concern in his face at letting me come along.
With a small rub down the side of his arm, I console him not to worry about me and to instead, focus on his father.
A few minutes later, we are all seated in Grady’s car, and it’s quiet.
Grady’s gaze and attention is completely focused on the road as we drive, but I keep trying to sneak looks at his father through the rear view mirror.
He is staring outside the window, deep in thought. I want to ask if he’s hungry so we can stop before anything else to get him some food, but between the father and the son, I don’t know whom to address. I’m beginning to think that perhaps insisting on coming was a bad idea, when my gaze goes to the rear view mirror. It meets the eyes of Grady’s father; cold and piercing just like his son’s from our earliest encounters.
My reflex reaction is to take my eyes away but then I realize just how much of a bad move this is, especially since my intention is to establish some sort of rapport with him. So I send him a smile that I know is excruciatingly awkward.
He seems to be glaring at me so my gaze turns sheepish.
“Who are you?” he asks.
I feel a little jolt at his attention. I share a glance at Grady but his mood seems to be extremely sour. I don’t think I’m going to be getting much help from him, so I just focus on his father. “I’m Grady’s assistant. I mean uh- Mr. Abbott’s assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I’ve turned around to face him, but I don’t bother offering my hand as it’s very likely that he will not take it.
“You work on Sunday’s too, Mr. Hotshot?” His father asks.
A snort escapes my lips before I can stop it.
Grady sends me a brief look of part confusion and betrayal.
I bite my lip to control my smile. I turn my face away from them both, but still sneakily try to meet his father’s gaze in the rear view mirror.
He is still watching me intently, and his gaze no longer looks so cold anymore. “Where are you from?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Houston, sir.”
“So what are you doing out here?”
“My sister lives here. I came visiting and found the job at FireEye, so I decided to stay.”
He continues to watch me but I’m not bold enough to hold that gaze, so I pull my eyes away and fix them on the road. Then I remember that I wanted to ask him if he had eaten. So I turn back around to face him, my heart beating a little too fast in my chest. “Do you want something to eat, sir?” I ask.
“You want to buy me a meal?” He asks.
I’m a bit stumped, as his tone is still somewhat harsh, so I’m not sure of the spirit in which the question is asked. “Um, of course, sir.”
“Alright then, let’s go. At least one person here as some manners.”
My eyes widen in shock at the outright snide, and I see a muscle twitch in Grady’s temple. Once again, I turn away to lower my head. I had expected their relationship to be much more hostile but more than anything, it seems as though his father is trying to get his attention, in the worst possible way.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Grady
He demands we go to IHOP.
I immediately wonder at the impact on his liver but of course, no appreciation or ear will be given to me if I voice the concern so I keep my opinions to myself and just drive them to it.
I want to wait in the car so they both get what they want but when Blair turns around to see my intention, she hurries back.
“What are you doing? C’mon,” she says.
I shake my head. “Just get what you both want. I’ll wait here.”
She frowns at me. “I’m beginning to see what the problem is between you two. He’s trying to get your attention and you’re just proud enough to keep ignoring him.”
“What?” My face wrinkles. “What are you talking about?”
With a sigh, she pulls on the latch of the door. “Grady, get out of the car!”
Her gaze is fixed on mine.
At the rare defiance in her expression, I decide to concede.
We head towards the blue roofed building together and just before she goes in, I stop her briefly to ask. “How are you able to communicate with him?”
“It’s easy,” she says with a smile as she pulls the door open for me to get through. “He’s not my dad, and I don't have an ego. Oh, and there’s one more thing that we have in common.”
My eyebrows arch in wait for her statement.
“We both have an innate desire to mock you, because no one else dares to.”
My automatic response to her is amusement, but then when I realize that my father is probably watching us, I school my expression and return to being stoic.
“Wow,” she says to me.
I ignore her. Soon, we are seated in a booth with Blair by my side and my father opposite her.
He really does look quite disheveled and battered and at the sunlight coming in through the window by his side, I can see just how sunken and exhausted he is. His gaze is the same one I’ve stared into for the past decade... almost blank and lifeless but I can�
�t help but notice that today, with his attention solely on Blair, he looks just a little bit... awake.
“What kind of pancakes do you like?” he asks her.
“Hmm…" she peruses through the menu.
I think I already know what she is going to say.
“The taco pancake-paco.”
For the first time in perhaps a decade, I watch a smile appear on his face. “We seem to have similar tastes.”
I set my gaze on hers and I’m sure she can feel it burning through her skin. Although I don’t say a word, it’s quite interesting to watch the dynamics between them both. The waitress comes to take our orders with the both of them ordering the same taco pancakes, while I order what I know she will actually like which is the sweet blueberry pancake.
The pancakes are delivered soon enough and we all begin our meal quietly.
About halfway through however, my father suddenly speaks, “What's your name?”
“I’m Blair Tatum, sir,” she replies.
At the mention of the name, something shadowy seems to pass across his graze. “Tatum?” he asks.
She nods as she chews on her pancake. “Yes, sir.”
He lowers his head and continues with his food as though the name itself holds the key to every problem he has ever encountered.
I don't dwell too much on it, as I’m much more enthralled with seeing my father not act hostile for the first time in as long as I can remember.
Is it because he is exhausted? Or is it just because of Blair?
I turn to her, wondering what the connection is between them that has made him quite mellow or is it just because she’s a woman?
“I used to know a Tatum,” my father says, and then drains his bottle of water. “Simon Tatum. Great guy... but died young.”
The conversation is becoming gloomy, and since it’s beginning to drift towards his dark and unpleasant memories from his military service, I suspect that the somewhat peaceful camaraderie we have established is soon about to be extinguished.
“Simon? That was my father’s name!”
Both my father and I turn to Blair at the sudden announcement.
“How can your father’s name be Simon Tatum?” My father half growls at her.
She is a bit taken aback.
I put my fork down, completely unwilling to tolerate any hostility whatsoever from him to her.
Both of their gazes are drawn to the clink of my fork on the plate, and then I feel her hand on my thigh.
Her smile is bright and welcoming to him. “Life can have the strangest coincidences, sir.”
He stares at her long and hard, and then cocks his head. “Was your father by any chance a soldier?”
I’m taken aback, and then I stare at her
Blair’s eyes are nearly popping out of the sockets. “Yes, he was… how do you- You served with him?”
For the first time in my entire life, an emotion creeps into my father’s eyes that I have never seen before. I’ve seen him angry, excited, and expressionless but what I have never seen in his eyes is pain.
He watches her tenderly, as though she is his own child, and then his eyes redden and fill with tears. Before those tears can drop however, he rises to his feet and walks out of the restaurant.
I’m thrown even more into a daze.
Blair turns to me, completely confused.
I also can’t understand what is happening. Neither of us has much of an appetite to continue with our meals, so we both rise to our feet, pay the bill and exit the pancake shop. When I arrive at my parked vehicle and see that my father is not by it, I’m further worried.
I look around for him to no avail, so we get into the car. I have a suspicion so I drive slowly and pretty soon we find him walking in a daze down the street.
“Mr. Abbott,” Blair calls out through the window.
I come to a stop on the side of the road.
She jumps out to get him. She goes close to him without any caution and touches his arm softly.
He looks up at her, listening quietly to her gentle coaxing to get into the car with us. He doesn’t respond and just continues to stare at her, almost as though he has gone deaf and can’t understand a single word.
I release the latch of my seatbelt and push the door open to get out.
Just then, it seems she has succeeded in getting him to come with her. Her hand is holding onto his arm and gently pulling him towards the passenger’s door and he is complying.
He gets in, and we continue on our way.
The car is incredibly quiet as we drive back to his trailer in Aurora, but about halfway into the commute he speaks. “Your father,” he says. “He passed away in 2010 right?”
A quick glance at her shows that she is looking at him through the rearview mirror.
“Yes, sir,” she replies, clearly disconcerted.
“July tenth, two weeks before your sister’s birthday.”
She turns around fully then to face him, her face showing amazement. “How do you know all this? You knew my father?”
My father’s sigh is heavy enough to collapse the roof of the vehicle. “I did,” is his response. “I was the QRF Lieutenant Commander for his SEAL team.”
Chapter Fifty
Blair
There is very little currently going through my head. But a lot is happening in my heart. I feel confused, anxious and incredibly sad, all at the same time.
I try my hardest but it’s difficult not to steal glances at the quiet broken man in the back seat.
He isn’t looking at me anymore, not being bold, defiant, or even grumpy. He’s just mellow, as though his soul has been sucked out of him.
Grady has also remained watchful and quiet throughout this entire meeting and at first, my suspicion was that it was because he had a strained relationship with his father, but now I’m not sure if things are this simple.
“Where do you live?” he asks in a quiet voice. “Let’s get you home.”
I lift my gaze to the rear view mirror once again. “Not at all,” I reply waving my hands. “You’re the one we came to get, sir. We’ll get you home.”
He watches me long and hard, so I ask what I want to while his eyes are on me. “I’d also really love to hear some stories about my father. We never really heard stories about his time in the military, so to know that you worked with him is quite amazing.”
His gaze falters from mine as his hands intertwine on his lap. “Your father,” he says, “was a great man. But I failed him. I failed all of them. My ego took down fourteen great men and irreversibly, wounded their families. And I’m alive to bear the torment of that grief forever.”
Something grabs my heart at his words, and squeezes so hard that it becomes difficult to breathe. I turn to Grady, my gaze filled with questions that haven’t even yet been formed in my brain.
He is attentive and briefly returns the glance before his attention goes back on the road, however his expression is unreadable.
“What happened?” I ask.
His father doesn’t respond immediately, so I wait.
His countenance is dejected; his head hanging low and his shoulders drooping.
I can’t even believe that this is the same man I met just barely an hour earlier, hollering and cursing at everything and everyone.
“I was their commander,” he begins.
I hang onto every word.
“Seal team five. They were on a special reconnaissance mission across a mountain range in Afghanistan at the time, to gather information about a Taliban leader that had been killing military men and refugees. These were the most dangerous types of missions because they could only go in small numbers so there were just four of them.” He inhales a deep, shaky breath and then his gaze turns to stare out of the window. He doesn’t speak for a few minutes, as though he is preoccupied with reliving every single second of the ordeal. “Simon- your dad, Eaton, Jack and Steve. Their team was experienced, with the highest rate of reconnaissance success we had seen
in over half a century. They understood and trusted each other, so when they went out in the field, they were in perfect synch. But then Jack messed up. I don’t even remember what he did.” He laughs.
The tone in his laugh is so bitter that it sends a chill through my body.
“That’s what’s the most funny about this because I don’t even remember just exactly what he did but it pissed me off enough to replace him, the main sniper on the team with a twenty year old officer with barely any experience. I wanted to humiliate Jack and because of that, your father and fourteen others lost their lives.”
I’m trembling and don’t even realize it until I feel a hand cover mine. My hazy, tear filled eyes lift to meet Grady watching me again with that unreadable expression on his face.
I pull my hands away from his, uncomfortable and unhappy.
It is only then I realize that we have arrived. I look around me and see we are on an expansive plot, lined with trailers. Our vehicle is parked in front of one in particular with overgrown shrubs, and a pile of junk out in front. An abandoned, rotting car seat, rusted implements, and a broken trampoline.
The entire car is silent, and then his father speaks, “I’m sorry,” he says. “That because of what I did, you had to grow up without your father. And even though I don’t deserve it, seeing you work with Grady makes me breathe just a bit easier.”
Before I can say a word in response, he pulls the latch on the door open and gets out of the car.
Chapter Fifty-One
Grady
The moment the door is pulled open, Allen’s face is filled with shock. “What are you doing here? On a Monday!”
“Well, you’re not at work,” I respond as I walk into his house, almost having to push him aside since he has forgotten to invite me in.
He shuts the door behind him and turns around to face me.
I’m a bit surprised by how different he looks from his usually suited appearance at the office. His hair is disheveled and caked with something white which I suspect is an incident from feeding time with his toddler. All he has on is a pair of shorts and a grey T-shirt. He’s barefoot, unshaven and his eyes seem bloodshot. He however looks relaxed and happy