by HJ Bellus
“Oh, let me see if we have any left.”
My fingers drum along the countertop in a nervous gesture. It feels like there’s a flashing light on my forehead telling everyone I’m a damn liar.
“Here you go.” The man sets a box of calendars on the counter.
There’s over a hundred of them in the box. There’s no way in hell I’m grabbing thirty of them. Dave is going to have to be happy with three. I snag the first three.
“Perfect. Thanks.”
I slap the three calendars on my palm as I stride out of the front door.
“You get ‘em?” Dave leans forward.
“They only had three,” I lie again.
“Shit. Drive on down to the next store, and we will get more.”
“Dave. You already have a shit ton of these all over your house and the year is over halfway over.”
“Need thirty more,” he growls. “Did you tell them you do business with them? I could’ve got the job done.”
I nod, driving to the next store. We spend three hours driving around stealing calendars until we have thirty of them, and have hit up every single farm store and car dealership in town, but Dave got thirty of the damn calendars.
I pack Dave to his recliner then hand him his thirty calendars. The man’s smile is a mile wide, and he looks happier than a pig in shit.
“Going to spray some weeds and mow your yard.”
“Here, I’ll show you how.” Dave tries several times to get up out of his recliner.
“Dave, I’ve got this.”
“The mower has a little heat to it.”
I don’t even want to know what that means. Dave goes back to his calendars, labeling them where they need to go, as I make my way outside. The air is fresh and crisp compared to the inside of his house. It’s a rare Indian Summer day. Spending time outside is just what I need.
After spraying weeds around the shop and some of the equipment, I find Dave’s riding lawn mower. With just one look I can tell it’s been modified.
“What the hell have you done, Dave?” I mumble to myself.
When I fire it up, it roars like nothing I’ve heard before. The first couple of passes through his lawn are at a typical mowing speed then I decide to go into a higher gear. Before I know it, I’m racing up and down his lawn at least thirty miles per hour. Holy shit, this is the most entertaining thing I’ve ever done. And before I realize it, the lawn is finished. Not the best job, but it’s done.
I’ll be racing this bad boy more often. Dave must have had it beefed up for lawn mower racing or some crazy shit like that. All I know is there has to be a damn good story behind it. Only Dave.
When I get back into the house, Dave’s struggling to put his shoes on.
“All done.” I take a long pull from a bottle of water that I brought with me.
“You do a good job?” Dave begins a coughing fit that seems to go on forever.
I hand him the glass of water next to him, but he bats it off. His lungs are terrible from his younger years of being submerged in dust.
“Of course I did a good job. It’s the only way I do things.” I muffle back my laughter. I did a damn good job of racing that machine.
“You wanting to go outside?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Need to check on some stuff.”
I pack him to his little work truck and set him in the driver’s seat. I know that he walks on his own to his truck every day to get his mail, but when I’m here, I can’t stand his groans of pain and the sounds his body makes. We spend an hour or so picking up and moving shit around until an idea strikes me.
“Going to run into the house real quick, Dave.”
He gives me a nod from his place on the bench in the shop. I jog up to the house. It takes me a long time before I find the magazine and locate the page I earmarked. It’s the tractor Dave thought was so cool, then I jog right back out to the shop.
“What you up to, boy?”
Used to piss me off when he’d call me boy, but now it’s turned into more of an endearment.
“Gonna make you something.”
“Yeah?” Dave fires back.
“Yep. Sit back and watch.”
Of course, Dave just can’t watch or sit back. He loves putting in his two cents the entire God damn time. His endless questions, looking over my shoulder, and telling me how to do it is now more comforting instead of annoying. It’s just the way he ticks.
My vision goes back and forth from the magazine to the work in front of me. Dave’s eyes light up when he realizes what I’m doing. We work until dusk. By the time we head back to the house, the replica resembles the tractor in the magazine.
6
Hunter
“Say what you feel, love who you love, ‘cause you just get so many trips ‘round the sun.”
-Kacey Musgraves
Twenty hours out of every single day of my life is about Dave. Every single day is Dave. He’s been consistent, paying me four hundred dollars every two months. I sink about two hundred dollars a week into stuff for his house.
The job at the feedlot relaxes me, even though it’s work. It’s like second nature to me and easy money, not to mention the tuition. I also decided at the beginning of my Junior year that I was going to make it to the gym at least four days a week and eat healthier, just to make myself feel better. My days are jam packed from the moment I wake up until the late hours of the night. It’s the way I like it because there’s no time to think or feel.
My tennis shoes pound on the treadmill, finishing up my three-mile run. I really had a hard time making myself come to the gym today. I’ve been itching to get on my motorbike and ride the trails.
“Hey.” A sweet voice distracts me as I power down the treadmill.
I turn to see Chloe in workout clothes and her cheeks flushed. Instantly I feel like a dick. I haven’t talked to her since that night in the ice cream parlor, even doing my best to ignore her in class.
“Chloe.” I nod. “How have you been?”
“Good.” She shrugs.
The one night we shared together, it was never awkward and flowed naturally, but this is the epitome of awkward. The silence is deafening as we stare at each other. My phone begins ringing on the stack of towels. Both of our vision darts over to it. Chloe gasps when she sees the picture lighting up my screen. A selfie of Teale.
I reach over and grab it quickly, then silence it right away.
“I…uh, I just wanted to say hi. You can take the call.” She points to the phone.
“It’s my mom. I’ll call her back.” I wipe the sweat from my brow with a white towel.
“So, you love her?” Chloe asks, dropping her head.
“Used to.” I scrub my face again. “No, I do.”
“Was that little girl yours?”
I shake my head side to side. “No.”
“Are you with her?” Chloe takes a step back. “Because the look on her face was full of hurt and pain.”
I clench my fist at my sides growing pissed. “I’m a lot of things, Chloe, but never a cheater. I finally tried to forget about her the other night, and it backfired on me.”
“I get it. We can be friends,” she offers.
“I could use a friend.”
“But Hunter, she still loves you, and you love her, don’t give up on that.”
“She has another life.”
The words hurt, each damn syllable of them. Avoiding the entire situation has proven to not help either.
“Talk to her. Don’t be a pussy.” Chloe shoves my shoulder.
Her cheeks glow bright red, and I’m pretty sure it’s from the word pussy.
“Thanks, Chloe.”
She begins to slowly back up from me, and I do the same making my way to the locker room.
“Lunch after class tomorrow?” I ask still walking backward.
“Only if you buy.” Chloe smiles wide.
“Deal.”
I turn around and head for the locker room, grabbing my
gym bag and decide to shower at home. A long night of studying and hollow memories is all I have to look forward to. Chloe’s words turn in my head as I drive. She makes it sound so easy and straightforward. But the harsh fact is, Teale has my number and hasn’t reached out. Not even a simple text and it’s been months.
Before I realize it, I’m pulling down Dave’s lane even though I was there this morning. His place offers more comfort than my empty apartment. It’s nice walking into his house and not seeing an overflowing mess of trash, mold, and flies.
“Hey, Dave.” I tuck a hand in my pocket.
“You need to go get laid instead of bothering me,” he growls.
“Let’s go out to the shop and finish that tractor replica. I need to weld.”
This makes Dave beam with happiness and pride. I kneel down and put his shoes on his feet, then hold out my hand for him to stand up. He goes for the walker, slowly creaking his way to the door. When I go to pick him up, he shrugs me off.
“Head out there, son. I’ll make it.”
“I like this attitude, Dave.”
He’s been up and down lately. When he gets down on life, it’s one of the toughest things I’ve ever experienced. What do you tell a man that’s ready to die because he’s in so much pain? He pops the hydrocodone, and it’s still not enough. His mind is still sharp as a tack.
We spend hours out in the shop. Me working and Dave doing his thing. He gave up on telling me how to weld the project.
“There you go, old man.” I point to the replica.
Dave’s smiled before, and has even been happy at times, but the look on his face is unexplainable. He’s beaming with pride and excitement. I don’t say anything when he brushes at his eyes.
“Drag it out to the front yard.” He rises slowly from his seat. “I want it right in front of my house.”
At least he approved of this gift more than the pot I made him. To see him excited is priceless. We get everything situated before heading back to the house. Dave stumbled more than usual, making me worry about him, so I sit with him for a bit before leaving.
“Want me to get you to the bed?” I ask him.
“Yeah.” Dave nods with his hands trembling.
When I help him up, I notice he’d shit himself and didn’t even know it.
“You feeling okay, Dave?” I ask him.
“Just tired.”
Dave has hardened me when it comes to situations like this one, but no matter how much I’ve experienced or seen with him, this isn’t easy. He didn’t even know he did it. All of the other times he was trying to get to the bathroom when he shit himself.
After getting him in the shower, I go out to his recliner and scrub it clean. My heart aches for the man who has become my best friend. Nothing worse than to take away your manhood and pride.
Dave settles into bed easily and falls asleep before I can leave the room. He is not in good shape. I make sure his home phone is next to him then stay with him for a few hours.
The time gets to nearly two in the morning, before I decide to leave. The silver lining is, I managed to get all of my reading done for school tomorrow. The full moon nestled in the pitch-dark sky guides me back to my apartment. I can’t help that lingering, yet familiar, feeling brewing low in my gut that shit is about to get crazy again.
7
Hunter
“There are questions I’m still not wise enough to answer, just wise enough to no longer ask.”
- George Jones.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer the phone, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“Hunter, glad you answered.”
“Caught me at a good time. What’s up?”
“Are you at Dave’s?”
“No, just finished class then working at the feedlot for four hours before going out to take care of him.”
“We need to talk.” Concern laces her voices.
“Okay.” I stop walking down the sidewalk, instantly panicking with worry that something is wrong.
“I went to put two hundred dollars in your account to help with your car payment and noticed that a check bounced.”
“Eh?” I ask, scrubbing my face.
“A twenty dollar check from Dave, and the fees cost you forty bucks.”
I throw my head back in frustration, staring up at the sky. “Okay.”
“Hunter, I’m going to be honest. This pisses me off. The majority of your time and money is going to this man, and this happens?”
“It’s fine, Mom.”
“No, it’s not. I’m worried about you, Bubba.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s the problem, you are always fine and give all you have Hunter. One day it’s going to be all too much for you to handle.”
I decided against telling her that the last week I’ve been throwing up if I eat too fast or drink anything carbonated, and that my gut feels like it’s being tortured from the inside out. I go for a swift subject change.
“My professor talked to me again about studying abroad next semester in Peru. I’m ahead enough in my credits.”
“Son, I really hope you think about this.”
“I am. It’s just that I don’t know if I’m going to be able to leave Dave. He needs someone.”
When I was first approached about this opportunity, I had reservations because it was last March when Teale was in my life. Then it wasn’t even an option, but now an escape would be welcomed.
“I get that, but think about you, and the experiences you would have.”
“Will do, Mom. I’ll get the bank info taken care of as well.”
“Love you, Hunter.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I end the call and can feel the application to study abroad burning a hole in my backpack. I look at it often, but haven’t filled it out yet. The deadline is approaching, but leaving Dave for a full semester is my downfall.
Shaking my head, I force myself to my car. The feedlot is near the University and the perfect distraction. The work is easy. However, putting up with the other employees who have never been around livestock is another issue.
I don’t even bother showering before going out to Dave’s. A little cow shit will be the least of my problems out there. I threw in my backpack, knowing it will be a late night with him. He’s been getting worse since the evening he had an accident in his recliner. The stubborn bastard refuses to go into the hospital or check back into a nursing home where he can be taken care of. He’s too damn tight with his money to worry about his health.
“Dave.” I shut the front door to his place.
No response.
“Dave,” I yell louder this time.
When I round the corner, Dave’s recliner is empty. I rush down the hall to his bedroom, only to find it empty. His sheets are soiled and rumpled. My heart comes to a halt when I peer over the edge of the bed and find it empty.
“Dave,” I holler louder this time and still no response.
The bathroom is empty. The shop is vacant as well. His little work truck is parked in its normal spot, along with his town car that I’ve never seen him drive. I clutch the top of my head beginning to panic. I have no idea how long it takes for me to grasp onto any common sense, but when I do my truck is already flying down his lane back to town.
I call every single quick care unit and hospital in the Moscow and Lewiston area. Just when I’m about to give up hope, I find him. My truck races down the highway. I grow pissed off more and more as each mile flies by me. The mail lady knows to call me when Dave is found. I check my phone to make sure that I didn’t have any missed calls.
Racing into the familiar setting of the emergency room waiting area, I’m out of breath and full of concern and dread for my best friend.
“Dave Hendricks.” I place my hands on my head to calm my breathing. “I’m here for Dave Hendricks.”
The overweight receptionist behind the counter is less than impressed. “Are you family?”
Same day, different
damn dance.
“No, but I’m the only one he has.”
“Sorry, family members are the only ones allowed back into the emergency room.”
“I understand that,” I grit out. “He’ll be asking for me.”
She peers over her glasses glaring straight at me. “Hospital policy.”
My fists clench and unclench at my side. “He needs me. You don’t understand, he doesn’t hear very well or listen to orders. I can get through his thick head.”
“Again, young man, you are more than welcome to take a seat, and I’ll let the doctors know someone is here for him.”
“Thanks for all your help,” I flip back to her in a sarcastic voice.
I get that everyone has bad days at their job, but it would be nice to see this woman care about the situation, whether Dave is family or not. I’ve seen amazing nurses with my time spent with Dave and others less desirable. I plop down in a chair burying my head in my hands. The torrent storm of worry running through my system is genuine.
The sharp pains in my right side, strike with violence. It’s been getting worse day by day, but I’ve managed to ignore it. I grab my side, then pull out a textbook and try my best to study. The pain too distracting to actually digest any information. I send out a quick text to Connor asking him for his notes. Mine are back at my apartment. Slowly but surely, he sends them via text picture message.
After long minutes of trying to read the notes, I decided on hitting up a vending machine. My options are minimal with the way my gut has been acting up. I grab water and a turkey sandwich. I notice a new receptionist behind the desk and decide to ask her, only to end up with the same result.
Sitting back down, I catch a glimpse of my favorite color. That hypnotizing, thick, auburn hair, pulled up in a messy bun. The woman’s back is to me as she rounds a corner leading down a different hallway. I catch the tiniest of glimpses and would swear it was Teale. I shake the confusion from my head and chalk it up to being exhausted and stressed.
Two bites of the sandwich and I’m racing to a bathroom. The pain nearly unbearable, but I rinse out my mouth and head back to the seat. A tall nurse is talking to the receptionist with her hands flying wildly in the air.