by S. Bennett
Bernard and I stare at each other. His chest is rising and falling deeply, and he rubs his hand over his face as his gaze cuts to the TV a moment, then back to me with a glare.
And then Tyrone is standing in the entryway to the living room, with Oley standing behind him with a sadness etching the lines on his face deeper. I know this is the worst way this could have gone down.
Bernard’s shoulders hunch inward as he slowly turns to face his son. He looks utterly terrified.
Tyrone isn’t going to let him feel that way, though. I spent about an hour with him at Wanda’s house. In that short time period, I learned just how empathetic he is toward his father’s situation. He’d done a lot of research into PTSD, and he chooses to rise above his bitterness about his father’s abandonment.
Without a word being said between the two, Tyrone rounds the couch and practically walks right into his father. He pulls his dad in hard to him for a big bear hug. Bernard only hesitates a second before putting his arms around his son and burying his face into Tyrone’s shoulder.
Oley jerks his head toward the kitchen in a silent command to give them privacy. I turn to look for Atticus, stunned to find him standing by the hugging men. He actually pushes his big head in between them as if he’s a crucial part of the reunion. Bernard’s hand drops, and he strokes Atti’s neck.
I’m further stunned when I realize Atticus didn’t even bark when Tyrone knocked on the door. He didn’t back away from him until he could figure Tyrone out. It’s like he must have known that the man coming inside was good people and so barking and wariness was not needed.
I decide to let Atticus stay with them, and I follow Oley into the kitchen.
Silently, I fix Oley and me some sweet tea. We can hear some low murmuring from the living room, which means we’re not giving them enough privacy. We head out onto the back patio.
It’s chilly outside but not too terrible. Probably low sixties. I have on jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt. Oley’s wearing short sleeves because the day was warm, so I sneak back inside quickly to the mudroom that sits off the kitchen and grab his jacket for him.
When we settle into the chairs, Oley says, “Well… that went about how I expected it would go.”
“Yeah,” I admit glumly as I stare out into the darkness. “Me too.”
There’s a few minutes of silence then Oley says, “You did a good thing, Hazel.”
“Really?” I ask, my head turning to look at him with unmitigated hope.
He doesn’t return the look, staring out into the night as I had been doing. But he reaffirms. “Yeah… no matter what Bernard says, it was a good thing. At least for Tyrone, who gets to see his dad.”
♦
We’re not sitting outside but maybe fifteen minutes before the back french door opens, and Bernard is standing there. Atticus slips by him, runs out into the darkness to do his business.
“Oley,” Bernard says in a hoarse voice. “Mind giving me a ride home?”
“Not at all,” Oley says as he struggles out of his chair.
I stand up, unsure of what to say. I’m stunned they only talked for fifteen minutes and this doesn’t bode well. The mere fact Bernard is standing there and Tyrone isn’t tells me he’s gone already.
“I can take you,” I offer lamely, looking from Bernard to Oley who now has his cane under him for support.
“I’d rather Oley,” Bernard says curtly. “No offense, Hazel… but I’m too pissed at you.”
“Will you ever stop being mad at me?” I ask him, my hands wringing together with fear that I might have lost my friend. And then Atticus is there, pushing his head into my hands.
Sweet dog.
“I’ll let you know in a few days how I feel,” Bernard mutters, and that’s better than telling me to go to hell for all time.
Oley shoots me a reassuring look before following Bernard back into the house. I sit down, Atticus coming to stand between my legs. I rub behind his ears and stare into his beautiful face with my nose almost touching his.
“What do you think, Atticus?” I ask him bluntly. “Did I do a bad thing or a good thing?”
My dog responds with a huge lick of his coarse tongue up one cheek. I wrinkle my nose, not from the slobber, which is par for the course, but from the smell.
It’s rank and… smells like dog shit.
“Oh my God,” I yell as I push Atticus away from me. “Did you just go out and eat your own poop?”
Atticus backs away a few feet and flops to his butt, grinning at me. I can’t smell his breath now that he’s put distance between us.
I jump up, run to the french door, and throw it open. Reaching inside, I turn the patio light on. I beckon my dog closer with extreme apprehension after I return to my seat.
“Come here,” I say as I open my arms. He trots forward, and I put one hand under his head and use the other to pull his lip upward.
And oh my freaking God… there’s poop stuck all in between his teeth. I smell it again and gag.
“God, Atticus,” I exclaim as I push him away again. He thinks it’s a game, so he tries to jump up at me. I push again. “Get away.”
I bolt out of the chair and run into the kitchen. Atticus follows behind. I head to Oley’s refrigerator to search for something short of Clorox bleach to clean my dog’s mouth. Atticus pushes his head into the fridge, looking around.
I see a bag of carrots and grab it.
He eats three of them before I determine that the poop has been cleared away. My stomach is queasy the entire time, and I tell him how disgusting that behavior is and how he better not do it again.
Atticus thinks it’s awesome, though, because he loves carrots. And I’m pretty damn sure he thinks they are some type of “reward” for eating poop. I’m going to have to talk to Oley about this to find out what in the ever-loving hell is wrong with my dog.
CHAPTER 35
Hazel
November 7th.
It’s my thirty-third birthday, and I’m strangely excited. No major plans at all, but I’m more thrilled to have a birthday where I’m not mired in self-pity and self-loathing for my poor choices in life.
It just so happens my birthday falls on a Wednesday this year, which means it’s Taco Night and that’s my favorite food in the world. Charmin’s bringing a “surprise,” which I am assuming means a birthday cake. I made sure she knew my favorite was chocolate with vanilla icing, and they make a really good one at Food Lion.
Oley, of course, will be there like he has been for all Taco Nights. Bernard is an unknown although Oley made sure to invite him when he was over on Sunday for the football game.
I’ve been staying out of Bernard’s way per his request. I went to his storage unit the next day after Tyrone came to see him, but he wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
His exact words. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk to you.”
I truly didn’t expect it to go on this long. Bernard is a good human being. He understands people’s faults. I thought he’d be able to forgive my butting into his life a lot quicker than he has, but perhaps he won’t at all.
If this has taught me anything at all, it’s that I need to consider the potential consequences of my actions a lot more carefully before I commit them. I’ve also learned that what I think is good for someone may not actually be what’s good for them.
The good news is that Oley and Bernard’s friendship is still intact, as it should be. Oley had nothing to do with it and couldn’t have stopped it. I insisted that Oley let Bernard know that I’d stay out of his way, so he could continue to enjoy Friday night baseball and Sunday football with Oley. He’d never been part of our Taco Nights on Wednesday, but it doesn’t mean I’ve given up hope that Bernard will decide to forgive me on my birthday. That would be the best present of all.
Ironically, I’ve become friends with Tyrone through all of this. He called me after he got home that night he came to see his dad and filled me in on that very short, fifteen-minute conversati
on. Tyrone has his father’s genetic wisdom of sorts, although Bernard’s is much more refined given his life experiences.
Bernard was cool and aloof with Tyrone, but Tyrone understood this was born of his father’s own fears and shame. He told me he’d kept the conversation light. Updated his dad on his grandchildren, Monica who is four, and Tyrone Bernard, Junior who also has the nickname Ty-Ty. He told his father he’d like to see him again, if and when he was ready.
Bernard was non-committal, but Tyrone told me he isn’t giving up hope. He is, however, giving his father a bit of space just as I am.
Since then, Tyrone and I have stayed in touch. I even went to have lunch with him and his wife, Carina one day last week. She’s as kind and accepting of Bernard’s faults as her husband is, and their determination to make something work with him gives me hope. I just know that it will take some time.
The exam room door opens, and Oley’s last patient of the day comes out. Mr. Gorham and his poodle, Peaches. It was time for Peaches rabies vaccination and overall health screening.
Mr. Gorham comes up to the receptionist window, where I work a great deal of the time dealing with the business affairs of the clinic, which includes checking patients out and accepting payment. I only assist Oley on the bigger animals.
Atticus is at my feet. He got to come in today because there were no large patients, and he could stay with me in the reception area. Also, I wanted to weigh him.
Ten and a half months old and eighty-nine pounds. I was relieved when Oley told me that he was almost done growing, but that he might hit ninety-five pounds before it’s all said and done.
I smile at Mr. Gorham as he cradles Peaches in one arm and pulls his wallet out with the other. “And how did Peaches do today?”
Atticus doesn’t move. He doesn’t have much interest in other animals and there’s a wall with just a cut-out window between Mr. Gorham and me, so I guess that makes Atti feel less threatened. He continues to snooze in his froggy position beside my desk chair.
The big man grins at me. He’s in the marine corps, built like a Mack truck and looks utterly ridiculous with that little poodle in his beefy arms. “She was a superstar,” he says proudly. “I’d also like to book Peaches for some boarding at Thanksgiving if you have any openings. I’m going home to Arkansas for the holiday, and I don’t want to travel with her.”
“Of course,” I say as I pull up the boarding schedule on the computer. I’ve moved Oley from a paper calendar to the 21st century.
After I get Peaches scheduled for her stay with us over Thanksgiving and accept his payment for today’s visit, I bid them farewell and head into the storage room to find Oley sitting at the break table. There’s an envelope sitting on the table in front of him.
“We’re almost filled up for the Thanksgiving holiday,” I tell him proudly. Opening for boarding was one of my better ideas. It means I have to come back to the clinic in the evening and early morning if we have guests, but I don’t mind. The income it produces has been a game changer, and Oley gave me a huge raise to twelve dollars an hour. It’s more money than I’ve ever made in my life.
“That’s good,” Oley says with a smile. He then nods to the chair opposite him. “Sit down a minute.”
His voice sounds grave, and my heart starts to flutter with nervousness. I do as bid and take my seat, folding my hands on top of the table with a ramrod straight spine.
Oley notices my posture and starts chuckling. “Relax, Hazel. I just want to give you your birthday present.”
“Oh,” I breathe out in relief before shooting him a lopsided grin. “Sorry.”
Oley smiles back, then places his fingertips on the envelope in front of him. He pushes it across the table toward me with a nod.
I hold his gaze a moment before it drops. It’s a standard envelope, white with no writing on it. When I pick it up, I see it’s not sealed. I reach inside and pull out two items. The first is a check, and the second is a folded-up piece of paper.
When I turn the check over, I gasp as I read it. It’s made out from Dr. Oley Peele to Hazel Roundtree for the sum of one thousand dollars.
My eyes snap up and lock with his. “What’s this for?”
“For your birthday,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Start a savings account with it, buy Atticus all the toys in the world, or get yourself something pretty.”
“It’s too much,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.
Oley snorts, but refuses to engage with me over the generosity of his gift. Instead, he says blandly, “You’re welcome.”
And it’s here where I do something very uncharacteristic of our relationship. He’s my employer and my closest friend in the world, yet I’ve never hugged the man.
I do so now, flying out of my chair and rounding the table on him. His eyes bug out for a moment, then I’m bending over and throwing my arms around his neck. He gives a surprised grunt as I squeeze him tight. “Thank you, Oley. That’s overly generous and totally unexpected and I’m not quite sure what I did to deserve it, but I’ll put the money to good use. I promise.”
Oley pats my back awkwardly until I release him. We stare at each other a moment, and I try to memorize the soft expression on his face. I’ve never seen it before, and it’s beautiful.
Clearing his throat, Oley nods back to the piece of paper that was also in the envelope.
Backing away from him, I sit back down in the chair and unfold the paper. It’s a promotional flyer from a college in Raleigh for their veterinary technician program. My brows furrow, completely confused as to why he’s giving this to me.
“You’ll need to get your GED first,” he says, and my gaze lifts to meet his. “You can actually take the GED test without any type of prep course. I’ll pay for it. If you pass, great. If not, I’ll pay for a course you can take. You get your GED, and I’ll pay for your associates degree to become a vet tech.”
My mouth opens in surprise. I want to say something, but nothing comes out.
“But only if you want to,” he adds on hastily. “I’m not forcing you. But if you want the opportunity, I’ll pay for it all.”
“I don’t… I never considered…” I stammer as Oley smiles at me. “I never dared to dream about something like this.”
“No reason you shouldn’t,” Oley replies. “At the very least, go get your GED, Hazel. You’re a smart cookie. Correct that mistake you made dropping out of high school.”
“Yeah,” I say softly, looking back down at the paper in my hands. “I can totally do that.”
“At any rate,” Oley says as he pushes from the table and grabs his cane from where it rests against the wall. “I wanted to give that to you in private. I don’t like money being anyone’s business.”
I stand up and grin. “I totally get that. And Oley… thank you.”
“Happy birthday, Hazel.”
“No… thank you for believing in me. You’re the only person who has ever truly done that.”
Oley’s face flushes, but he’s saved from replying when the bells on the front door to the clinic jingle. Atticus lets out a weak bark from the reception area, which means the sound woke him up from a deep sleep. He comes trotting into the storage room, eyes glazed.
“I’ll go see who that is,” I tell Oley as I put the paper down on the table next to the check.
I walk to the door that separates the storage room from the exam room, which leads to the lobby. I give a short, “Stay,” to Atticus. He’ll be fine as long as Oley is around, and he can see him. Otherwise, the big baby would have to walk with me.
When I step into the lobby, I freeze as I take in the woman standing there.
My sister, Liz.
She smiles and says, “Happy birthday, Hazel.”
Oley’s footsteps clomp in. I look over my shoulder to find his eyes twinkling at me. “You’re not the only one who can meddle,” he says with a smirk.
Turning back, I look at Liz. I still have not been able to bring myself to reach ou
t to her even despite my mom assuring me it will be fine. I want to glare at Oley, but I can’t. It’s not fair to be mad at Oley when he simply took a meddling page out of my book.
Atticus comes pushing past both me and Oley, who wobbles a bit when my dog’s significant bulk bumps against his legs. I want to harsh Atticus a bit because his bumbling ways could hurt Oley if he’s not careful, but I’m still too stunned to see my sister standing there.
There’s no barking or wariness. Atticus goes right up to Liz, and he starts sniffing at her legs. She stares at him a little bug eyed, but murmurs, “You must be Atticus. I’ve heard all about you.”
Hearing his name, Atticus shoots his eyes up to look at Liz, takes it as pure fact she must want a hug, and starts to rear up on his back legs to do so.
I halt him before he can jump by lunging forward and grabbing his collar. “Oh no, you don’t, Mister Mister.”
I then order him to, “Sit.”
To my relief, he does and grins up at Liz with his mouth parted and tongue flopping out.
“You two get out of here,” Oley orders with a pointed nod toward the door. “Liz can take you out to the farm, so you can have some time together before we start Taco Night. I’ll close up and bring Atticus home.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” Liz beams at Oley before turning for the door. I feel I have no choice but to follow.
After grabbing my purse and giving Atticus kisses goodbye, I head out to where Liz is waiting for me. I didn’t bother trying to chastise Oley for bringing about something I was convinced I wasn’t ready for, because he’d tell me the story about the pot calling the kettle black.
Liz is driving a nondescript silver four door. There’s a child seat in the back on the passenger side, and I wonder where Benji is.
The car is idling and overly warm when I slide in, but I think that’s more my internal temperature rising from nerves.
“Where to?” she asks pleasantly as I put my seat belt on and she puts the car in reverse.
She hasn’t changed much over the years. She’s two years younger than me and much prettier I always thought, and I don’t mean that in a “woe is me” sort of way. I mean it genuinely. Liz was born with my dad’s waviness to her hair and his dimples. She’s always looked like the proverbial college girl with the face that doesn’t need makeup and a confidence in her bearing that proves it.