by J. E. Parker
Grandmama spun around to face her only son. “And? Your point would be?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know what’s going to happen the moment Hendrix sees him. We’ll be lucky if he isn’t arrested for assault and battery!”
Grandmama shrugged. “If he is, I’ll bail him out of jail.”
“Bail him outta…” Keith sputtered and turned around to face the wall. Raking his hands through his hair, he groaned. “You’re killing me, mama. Flat out killing me.”
She shrugged again. “I never liked Ty anyway. Boy is nothing but a snake.” She looked at her son. “Did you know he’s the one who started calling Maddie maggot in the third grade? The little devil. If I’d known the truth back then, I’d have taken a hickory switch to his behind.”
Dropping his hands to his sides, Keith turned around and faced his mother. “So, what’s the plan, mama? Obviously, you’ve got something up your sleeve. Not once in the last six years have I heard you say one kind word about that boy,” he pointed to the door that Hendrix had just exited, “but now you’re offering to tell him where Maddie is if he goes to AA meetings and gets clean? Have you lost your mind?”
“No, I haven’t lost my mind.”
“Then what in the hell are you doing?”
Looking over her shoulder, Grandmama grinned. “I’m saving them, son.” She looked back towards the office door before slowly closing her eyes and clutching her hand to her chest. “I’m saving them both.”
Hendrix
Duffle bag clutched in one hand, I pushed through the door of Station 24. Not a single person was around. The guys either had to be on a call or asleep. From where I was standing I couldn’t see if any of the trucks were gone or not. The bay doors were open though so I figured it was the former.
I took a few minutes to look around the place I hadn’t stepped foot inside of in almost a decade. It still looked exactly the way I remember—run down.
The faded yellow walls needed to be repainted, new flooring needed to be installed, and the worn-out furniture in the rec room needed to be replaced. The place still smelled like a combination of body odor and burnt food too.
It was disgusting.
I’d only been inside the station for two minutes when heavy footsteps approached me from behind. I didn’t need to turn around or glance over my shoulder to know who it was. I’d memorized the sound of his stride long ago. I could even tell if he’d been drinking or not by how heavy his feet slapped against the floor.
Today he wasn’t drinking.
It was a fucking miracle.
Keeping my back to him, I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared at the TV mounted on the wall in front of me.
His footsteps stopped a few feet from me. “Hendrix?” I expected anger and hate to swirl in my guts at the sound of his voice, but it didn’t. I just felt indifferent. Huh. “Is that you?”
How comical. I raised my hand and ran the tip of my finger down the TV screen. Dust stuck to my skin, and I curled my upper lip in disgust. “None of y’all pansies know what a dust rag is?” Pop had always been a lazy bastard, but apparently, he wasn’t the only one. Station 24 seemed to be full of them. He must feel right at home.
He ignored my question. “What are you doing here, son?”
I furrowed my brows. “That’s a good question.” I moved a couple of feet to the right, still not looking back at the man who called himself my father. “Why don’t you call Captain Davis and ask him?”
He blew out a breath. “You’re one of my temporary transfers?”
“Unfortunately.”
Silence surrounded us as the black and white clock hanging on the wall above the TV ticked away.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
After a minute, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Turning around, I came face to face with the man who had helped destroy my entire life. I waited for the anger to come. Waited for the rage to take over. But it didn’t.
What was the hell wrong with me? Why wasn’t I pissed off?
I’d been ready to rip Keith’s head off for transferring me here, but now that I was standing in front of Pop, I didn’t feel the murderous rage that I expected. I just felt… blank.
I looked away from Pop and focused on the wall behind him. “Just tell me where Captain Malone is so I can report.” I rubbed the back of my neck with my uninjured hand. “I’m ready to get this over with.”
I saw Pop shift his stance out of my peripheral. “Malone retired a little over two years ago.”
Good for him. “Who do I report to then?”
“Me.”
I froze. My eyes moved to meet his. “You’re shitting me, right?” Pop was a Captain now? One of the biggest—if not the biggest—alcoholics in the Tri-county area was now in charge of an entire station?
No. Damn. Way.
“No, son, I’m not.”
My stomach churned as my muscles tightened. “I’m not your son.”
Mirroring my stance, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He nodded once. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve what?”
“For you to deny me as your father.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. He couldn’t be serious. Could he? “What the hell?” I looked around the room, searching every nook and cranny for a hidden camera. “This has to be a joke, right? You’re talking like we’re on an episode of Dr. Phil!”
Pop took two steps forward. In response, I took one back. I didn’t want him anywhere near me. I held up my hands in the air. “Don’t you come near me. You do, and I can’t promise that I won’t smash your face in.” My voice was calm despite the fact I felt anything but.
He looked down at my fisted hand. “What the fuck, Hendrix?” He moved towards me again but stopped when I clenched my hand tighter. “What the hell happened to your hand?”
I lifted my fist to my face. Shit. I hadn’t even bothered to rinse off my bloodied knuckles before heading this way. “Oh, that…” I smiled. “I had a little disagreement with one of the walls in Keith’s office. Good news though,” I smirked, “I won the fight. Fucking drywall didn’t stand a chance against me. Didn’t even fight back.” I inhaled, and my nostrils flared. “Unlike those dirty Russians and their brass knuckles.” I paused before continuing. “Am I right, Pop?”
My skin prickled with heat.
Ah, there was the anger.
Pop dropped his head forward and stepped back like I’d punched him in the gut. “Kid, you don't understand—”
I cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. All I want to know is where I need to sign in.” My face flushed red hot and my neck muscles corded. This is exactly why I didn’t want Keith to send me here. I may have been calm at first, but it didn’t last. The way I was feeling, if something didn’t change quick, I was going to end up in my second fight of the day. But this time it wouldn’t be with an inanimate object. This time, it would be with the worthless excuse for a human being standing in front of me.
Pop pointed to the staircase. “My office is upstairs. Down the hall, last room on the right.” He shifted on his feet, his dark brown eyes watching my every move. Dark brown eyes identical to mine. “Sign-in form is attached to a clipboard that’s hanging on the wall beside my desk.”
I didn’t say a single word as I turned and headed for the stairs.
Pop didn’t either.
I took less than thirty seconds to make it to Pop’s office. Once inside, I flicked on the light and dropped my duffle bag to the floor. The room was small, probably only six by eight foot wide. Unlike downstairs, all four of the walls were composed of exposed red brick. A single metal desk sat in the center of the room, while a rolling office chair sat behind it. Two filing cabinets and what looked like an old trophy case lined the back wall.
It was messy, but it wasn’t a pig sty like I expected.
Seeing the clipboard hanging on the wall beside the desk—right where Pop said it would be—I walked over and removed it from
the hook it was dangling from. After signing my name on the bottom line, I hung it back up.
I turned to grab my bag and leave but stopped short when a flash of silver in the trophy case caught my eye.
What the hell?
I moved closer to get a better look. “No damn way,” I whispered to the empty room. Disbelief slammed into me and I forgot how to breathe.
It was my boxing trophy. The one I got for winning the Silver Gloves Championship. Then, I saw the rest of the trophies—basketball ones—that lined the various shelves. All of them had my name etched on the bottom.
Every. Single. One.
Stunned, I took two steps backward, and the backs of my thighs bumped into Pop’s desk. Something fell over, and I looked over my shoulder to see what it was.
That’s when I saw the pictures.
School pictures.
Sports pictures.
Graduation pictures.
Pictures of me riding my dirt bike.
Pictures of Maddie and me.
Maddie…
“Fuck,” I cursed as my chest filled with pressure. Plopping down in Pop’s desk chair, I reached for the largest frame. It was of Maddie and I sitting on a bale of hay. She was wearing a yellow sundress and a pair of white flip-flops. “Damn flip-flops.” I smiled through the anguish coursing through my veins. There was a white flower tucked behind her ear, and she was holding a chocolate ice cream cone in one hand. Typical Maddie. I was sitting beside her wearing black basketball shorts, a red Braves t-shirt, and my faded grey ball cap—the same one I still wore every day. Both of us were smiling, but Maddie was the only one looking at the camera. My eyes were locked on her. We couldn’t have been more than ten and eleven.
I ran my finger over her face. “I was just a stupid kid back then, but I already knew…” I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “...already knew I was gonna love you forever.”
Pop coughed from the doorway and interrupted the moment. Irritated, I straightened and touched the picture one last time before placing it back on the desk. I stood and walked around the desk to face him. “What is all this shit?” I asked, nodding my head towards the trophy case and desk.
He looked around the room before his eyes met mine. “What’s it look like?”
“Pop,” I pushed out through gritted teeth. “Now is not the time for you to be a smartass. I’m hanging on by a thread here.” It was the truth. Any control that I had when I’d first arrived was nearly gone. My temper had returned in full force, and my fists itched to beat something—or someone.
Pop rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “All of it serves as a reminder.” I opened my mouth to ask him what he was talking about but he held up his hand and gestured for me to hold on a minute. Snapping my mouth closed, I waited for him to continue. He stood tall and held my eyes. “I’m an alcoholic, Hendrix.” Like I didn’t know that. “You already know that, but this is me confessing—and owning up to—one of my ugly truths.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Where are you going with this? I don’t have time—”
“Just listen to me kid!” Pop’s voice rose, and his face reddened. I raised my eyebrows in response but didn’t say anything. “The shit I’ve done… I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” I didn’t care to hear it. Sorry didn’t mean shit. Not when his actions had cost me so much. “I know I was a piece of shit father. The things I did to you…” Pop’s face took on a green hue. He looked like he was going to puke. Not wanting to have any part of that, I kicked the small trash can that sat beside his desk towards him. He ignored it. “I’m not saying I’ve become a good person,” Pop a large breath, “because I haven’t. My soul is too corrupted to ever find grace again.”
“Pop—”
“But I’m trying. Trying to change the things that I do have control over. Trying to make better choices.” He leaned against the door frame. “Part of that changing includes remembering the shit that I was too drunk to experience when it happened.” He pointed towards the pictures on his desk, and my eyes followed the same path. “That’s what those are for.”
I wanted to ask him how he got all the pictures. Not once did he pay for school pictures and I knew Grandmama wouldn’t have given him any pictures of Maddie and me. But asking would just open another can of worms that I wasn’t sure I wanted opened.
Not yet.
“Yeah? And what about the trophies? What the fuck have you got those for? It’s not like you ever cared to come to one of my games!” The vein in my forehead pulsated as my voice rose. “And as you said, you were too fucking drunk to even know I had started boxing!” I stopped yelling and took a deep breath. Pop remained silent. “So again, why the fuck do you have my trophies? What did ya do, Pop? Steal them out of my old bedroom? You become a thief now too? Is that it?” I tilted my head back and laughed. “A thieving alcoholic. What a hell of a combination! Tell me—were you drunk when you searched through my closet to find them? Or were you just buzzed? Cause God knows you didn’t do that shit sober!”
I expected him to scream back, maybe even take a swing at me, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood in the doorway with his shoulder pressed against the door frame—cool as a cucumber. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Yeah?” I moved in his direction and lifted my chin. “Tell me, Pop, what have I got wrong?”
“I didn’t go through your old room when I was drunk.” I snorted. Sure, he didn’t. “Hendrix,” he paused, “I haven’t had a drink in over six years.” Like a one-two punch to the face, his words left me dazed. “I’m sober, son. Have been for a long time now.” Standing up straight, he pulled a key ring out of his pocket and gestured for me to take it. I did. Holding it in my hand, I looked at the coin-shaped chips that lied in my palm. There were thirteen in total, and they were a mixture of different colors. “Those are from my first year of sobriety.”
It dawned on me what they were. “Fucking AA chips.” Feeling sick to my stomach, I tossed the chips back to Pop. Disbelief swamped me. My shoulders slumped forward, and my eyes lost focus.
I couldn’t believe this shit.
Pop was clean. Sober. Had been for years. And me…
Closing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side and laughed.
Pop moved into the room. “Talk to me, son.” Son… There had been a time when I’d have done anything to have him call me son. But he never had. The only thing Pop had ever called me was boy, stupid, and asshole. “Hendrix.”
I opened my eyes. “Oh, how the tables have turned.” Moving to the desk again, I picked up the picture of Maddie and me from before. If she could only see me now. My throat burned. “You ever regret it?” Surprisingly, my voice was calm, and the anger from before had dwindled. All I felt now was the disappointment.
Disappointment in my goddamn self.
“I regret a lot of things.”
I nodded. I could understand that. I regretted a lot of shit too. Still, I needed to know. “What do you regret the most?”
Pop walked around me and behind his desk. Turning his back to me, he gazed into the trophy case. “Hurting you.” He tapped on the cases glass door. “Long as I live I’ll never understand how—even drunk—I hurt you the way I did.” His head dipped forward and his shoulders tensed. “The things I said. The things I did.” He blew out a breath. “I deserve to be shot.”
Couldn’t argue with him there.
I stared down at the picture. “Yeah well, you’re not the only one.”
Pop whipped around so fast it was almost comical. “What do you mean?”
I gripped the back of my neck. “The stuff I’ve done… I should be shot too.”
“How do you figure that?”
I swallowed and blinked. Once. Twice. It felt like a vice grip was wrenching down on my heart. “I destroyed the only person who ever loved me.” More wrenching, more pain. “That day… the day that I left her.” I could barely push the words out. My tongue felt dry and heavy. My lips didn’t want to move. I set the pictu
re back down and walked to the door. “She cried so hard.” Her tear streaked face flashed before my eyes. “Begged me not to leave...” Her frantic pleas echoed in my ears.
Please don’t leave me!
Hendrixxxx!
I could still feel her nails digging into my wrist as she tried to stop me from walking away. “I fucking left her, Pop. Left her standing there…” Goddamn it! What had I done? “The shit I said to her.” I shook my head.
My stomach clenched and bile crawled up my throat. I was going to puke.
“It wasn’t your fault!”
Turning around, I faced down the man crueler than the devil himself. “You’re right, Pop.” I grabbed my duffle bag off the floor. “It’s yours.” Sliding the long black strap over my shoulder, I slid my thumbs through my front belt loops. “I’m glad you got sober, Pop. I am. But it changes nothing between us.”
“Hendrix.” I turned around and walked out of the office. “Wait!” I stopped. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness, son, because I don’t deserve it.” Pop blew out a shaky breath, and I heard him moving closer to me. One step. Two steps. “But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life having my only kid hate me because of what I did to him when I was a worthless drunk.”
I looked over my shoulder and met his eyes. “I don’t hate you for what you did to me. I hate you for what you made me do to Maddie. I loved that girl more than anything in the world. Still do.” A lone tear slipped from my eye. I swear on my life I could feel my heart cracking. I missed her so fucking much.
I couldn’t do this—couldn’t be without her—any goddamn more!
“And no beating you ever gave me will compare to the pain you caused when you forced me to hurt her.” My entire body trembled as I turned completely around to face my father head-on. Father… what a joke. “The pain you caused when you forced me to betray her so that I could keep her safe…” Bile rose again. My throat spasmed. “Might as well face it, Pop. Right or wrong, I’ll hate you until my dying breath.” I turned away from him once again, giving him my back.
And it’s all because you destroyed the only good thing I had.