by Terry Keys
“I’ll be back every day until the day you walk out of here with me. And I won’t take no for an answer, so don’t even try,” I said with a chuckle. DeLuca laughed too. “I love you, brother. I gotta run now. Hilary’s boyfriend is coming over, and I’ve got grill duty.”
I stood up and pushed the chair back across the room.
“Did the doctors tell you how long they plan on keeping him like this?”
“There isn’t a planned time frame. They’re just going to monitor him and make the call as he improves. If he improves.”
“Don’t talk like that. He’s going to improve.”
We hugged for a moment and then I headed home.
Chapter 70
I pulled into my driveway and noticed the black, late-model Ford Mustang belonging to Hilary’s boyfriend, Chris. I’d only met the kid once, and he seemed nice enough, but as we all know, masks are easy to put on. In order for me to make a full assessment, I’d have to spend a lot more time around the kid. So while many fathers dreaded days like today, I welcomed the opportunity.
Before the door fully opened, my baby girl was flying into my arms. “Daddy!”
“Karen! How’s my little angel doing?”
“Good, Daddy. Are we going to play some softball today?”
“Sure, if you want to. Now where’s Mommy?”
“Mommy is in the kitchen, silly.”
I put Karen down and made my way toward the kitchen. “Something smells good in here.”
“I always smell good,” Miranda said, smiling.
“Ahh. . . there you are. And yes, you always smell wonderful. I’ve missed that sweet smell.”
“Have you?”
“Now that’s a silly question. Get over here,” I said, pulling her close to me.
“I’m so glad this is all over and things can get back to normal.”
“Normal? And what exactly is normal for you, David Porter?”
My smile quickly turned to a frown as Paul came to mind.
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, I don’t know what normal will be for Paul. His will be a new normal.”
“You want to talk about it? I’m not exactly sure—”
“Sarin. They poisoned him with Sarin gas. He’ll never—”
“Don’t say it.”
We stood there and hugged for several minutes Movement outside caught my eye.
“Is Hilary throwing a football?” I said, laughing.
“Looks like it.”
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
“She’d be a great athlete if she actually gave a sport a try.”
She was right, but until now Hilary simply hadn’t been interested.
I finished peeling the potatoes and then gathered the items I needed to start cooking. I headed for the backyard to get the pit loaded with wood and fired up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something whizzing my way. Instinctively, I whirled around and raised my hands. A half second later, I was plucking a football out of the air.
“Whoa, Dad,” Hilary yelled.
“Nice hands, Mr. P,” Chris said.
I threw the ball back and forth with him a few times. It felt good to touch the ol’ pigskin again. It’d probably been four or five years since I’d even touched a football.
“You never throw the football with me, Dad,” Hilary whined.
I shot her an are-you-crazy look that made her boyfriend laugh.
“Hil, I’ve tried to get you to play every sport under the sun, including football.”
“Is that true, Hilary?” Chris asked, flinging the ball back my way.
“Can I plead the fifth?”
We all laughed.
“Okay, I’ve had enough of this sports stuff. I’m going inside where everything makes sense. Chris, you are more than welcome to stay out here with this old guy.”
“I’m in my prime,” I said in my best Val Kilmer–Doc Holiday voice.
“Tombstone,” Chris added with a thumbs-up.
I turned to Hilary as she slipped into the house. “Hey, I like this one!”
“Tombstone—that’s one of my favorite movies of all time. Surprised a kid your age has seen it.”
“It was one of my dad’s favorite movies before he passed away.”
“Sorry to hear that. Had he been ill?”
“Car wreck. Drunk driver.”
“I’m so sorry, Chris.”
“We lose everyone we love at some point, right?”
He was right, but it still wasn’t fair. My thought flashed straight to Paul, but I pushed the image away and changed the subject.
“So, Chris, what are you planning on studying in school?”
“That’s an easy one. I’m going to be a chemical engineer.”
“Wow. You’ll need good grades for that and have to be pretty good at math and science.”
“I’m an AP student in both. I’ve got several academic scholarship offers too.”
“Good for you. Started any community service work yet? You know colleges love seeing that type of stuff on applications.”
“Not really. But I’d like to.”
An idea popped into my head that shot out of my mouth before I’d fully vetted it.
“I may have just the thing for you. Hand me that stack of wood over there, please.”
I started loading wood into the firebox. “You know how to BBQ?”
Poor kid looked like I’d just stolen his bike. “No, sir.”
“Well, that’s okay. How about I teach you today?”
“I’d like that.”
“Hilary loves BBQ, so you’d better learn.”
“So you said you had an idea to get me some community service hours?”
“Yeah. I met a kid at the hospital today. If I had to guess, he’s probably five or six. He was there visiting his dad. . .” I cleared my throat. “His dad has a terminal cancer, got a few weeks to live at most.”
“So you want me to, like, be his—”
I laughed. “No, I don’t want you to be the kid’s dad. But you could be like a big brother. You know, spend time with him when you can. Maybe play some football with him. He plays Little League for the Dickinson Gators. Heard he was pretty good too. I’m not sure if you had anyone after your father died. I hope you did. But you know better than I ever could that he’s going to need someone. I think you’d like him, and it would probably be good for you both. I left my card with the kid’s mom. I’m going to take him on a few police rides, let him patrol with me. Kids get a kick out of that.”
“I don’t know, Mr. P. Sounds like a big responsibility.”
“Well, you don’t have to decide today. Just think about it.”
“I just don’t know if I’d be good enough . . . or if he’ll like me. How will I even know what to say?
“Listen, you don’t need any fancy lines. Just be a friend to the kid. Give him a good role model to look up too. Someone he can try to be like when he grows up. Like I said, just think about it.”
We cooked ribs, sausage, and chicken while the girls made potato salad and my favorite, a broccoli-rice casserole.
Chris and I went inside and we all sat down around the dinner table and ate. I’d BBQ’ed way too much food, something I always did when I grilled.
The more time I spent with Chris, the more I liked him. If I’d had a son, would he have turned out like Chris? I couldn’t help but wonder. Then my mind drifted to a dark place.
I felt a nudge in my rib cage. “David, are you okay?” Miranda asked me.
I heard the question, but my mind couldn’t formulate a response.
“Honey?”
Finally I snapped to. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“What are you thinking, David Porter?” she asked, catching me staring at Chris.
“Nothing important. Just a silly thought is all.”
She leaned her head to the side and shook it at me.
“Anybody want to play a game of Monopoly?” I asked.
“I’ve
never played,” Chris said.
“We’ll have to fix that then, won’t we?” Miranda told him.
Karen crossed her arms, and I instantly knew what that look was for.
The doorbell rang, and Miranda went over to answer it.
“It’s Elena, honey,” Miranda yelled.
DeLuca’s eyes looked sad and tired.
“Everything okay?” I asked her.
“Yeah, just taking a break. Paul’s mom came down, and she’s sitting with him now.”
“There’s plenty of food in the kitchen. And I think we’re about to get a game of Monopoly going, if you want in,” I said.
“Thanks. I’ll pass on the Monopoly, but yes to the food. I’m more of a dominoes girl. Too much luck involved in Monopoly.”
“Oh lord,” Miranda said, hitting herself on the forehead.
“What? Did I say something?” DeLuca asked.
“Yes, you said something,” Miranda responded.
“Did I hear you say you play dominoes?” I asked.
“Yeah, I do. What, a girl can’t play dominoes?”
“Yes, a girl can. Hopefully you play better than your boyfriend,” I said.
“See? That’s what you said—dominoes.” Miranda laughed.
“Ahh, so Porter thinks he’s good at it or something?”
“No, I’m not good. The creator of the game deserves a better title than simply good.”
DeLuca smiled. “I can’t even right now. Where’s the food?” she asked Miranda.
“While you eat, get online and look up some domino strategy, will ya?” I shouted.
“Leave that girl alone, David,” Miranda said as DeLuca headed for the kitchen.
I shrugged. “She makes it too easy.”
I turned my gaze to Karen. Then I eased over to her and mimicked her lip pouting. “You think Daddy forgot about our softball?”
“You did forget.”
I hugged her close to me. “No, I didn’t. Chris told me outside that he has to leave in a little while. After he leaves, we’ll play softball until your little arms fall off.”
“Promise?” she asked, arms still crossed, never looking in my direction. She had clearly been learning some advanced negotiation techniques from her older sister and mother.
Miranda won our family game of Monopoly, as usual, and Chris went home. I hadn’t gotten any dessert earlier, but now my stomach yearned for something sweet.
“A piece of 7Up pound cake and some Blue Bell vanilla ice cream sure do sound good right now,” I said.
“Mmm. It sure does. Why don’t you fix us some?” Miranda said, smiling.
Then I felt a tug on my arm. “No. No time for dessert. It’s time for softball,” Karen said, shoving a glove into my hand.
“That’s right. We can eat cake and ice cream after we’re done. C’mon!”
I grabbed the softball bag and headed to the backyard.
As we tossed the ball back and forth, my mind drifted off again. I replayed conversations I’d had with Stagg, Marty Wolfe, and Presidents Wilson and Brown. Then I did the same thing with conversations I’d had with Khalid, Rael, and Mullinski. Even though the short-term threat had been eliminated, El Printo and others like him were still plotting evil things. In all honesty, I didn’t think the amount of violence was any higher today than it’d always been. Even holy books like the Bible were full of stories of lies, war, and murder. In my mind, the biggest difference today was the 24-7 news distribution world we lived in. Word of major events, and even minor ones, didn’t take weeks or months to travel to the corners of the globe. With today’s media juggernaut, news was all but instantaneous, and it was interpreted in whatever manner the networks deemed worthy.
I looked across the yard to Karen and then to Hilary, Miranda, and DeLuca who were sitting on our bench swing. And I was reminded in that moment, that no matter what happened, good or bad, God was in control. And my job as a man was to show everyone that I could share the same love he’d shown me.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Terry Keys is a novelist, songwriter and poet. He writes for Examiner.com and works as a project manager in the oil and gas industry. A native of Rosharon, Texas Keys spends his free time hunting, fishing and working out. He lives in Dickinson, Texas, with his wife and two children.
Please visit his website at www.terrykeysbooks.com
Twitter: @tkeys15
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Email: [email protected]