by Nolon King
“About what?”
Tears from his good eye as he held his glass out for another. “I’m afraid I won’t know anybody when I get to heaven. Or even worse, I’m afraid they won’t know me. Like I’ll see you up there, and you’ll look right through me.”
Frank poured liquid into the shaking glass. Filled his own up before answering. He knew the you GG was talking about was his real father, and not the stand-in he’d found in Frank.
“Of course you’ll know everybody. And they’ll know you. And even if they don’t, as soon as they meet you, they’ll love you.”
“How do you know?” GG asked.
Frank leaned over and grabbed his shoulder. “Because I love you, buddy.”
GG drank his third shot, and tequila dribbled out of the numb side of his mouth. He shook his head like somebody trying to get water out of his face. “Thanks, Dad.”
A cool gust blew across the porch. Crisp with the rain it carried. GG smiled. Swayed back and forth like a tree out in the open. “Can you get me my pillow, Dad. I think I’m gonna wanna sleep here tonight. Would that be okay?”
Frank smiled. “Absolutest.”
He patted GG’s head on his way by, and when he got inside, he leaned back against the door and cried into his hands. Biting into his palm to keep from making any noise. He didn’t want GG to hear.
He wiped his eyes. Made it into GG’s room where he grabbed the top pillow from his bed. A grinning narwhal jumping over a rainbow.
When he got back outside, GG’s head was hanging to the side. Drool had already made a small wet circle on his shoulder.
Frank wedged the pillow behind GG’s shoulders. Eased his head back into it. Put his hands in his lap. Got back in his own chair to drink some more. Listen to the rain.
He tipped his head back like GG. Laced his fingers over his belly. Closed his eyes.
The sound of shattering glass made Frank sit forward in his chair with a gasp.
He looked around in confusion, unable to penetrate the darkness.
He heard crickets instead of the rain. Then another crash. Distant. Like it was coming from the back yard.
GG snorted. Smacked his lips. Rolled into a gentle snore.
Frank stood and staggered to the top of the stairs. Felt for the first step with his toe. Dropped down on it to repeat the process twice more before he felt mulch underfoot.
His side hurt. Kidneys ached. Head pounded over his sore neck. What a mess.
He leaned against the big oak and fumbled with his zipper. Finally got into position to pee without dripping onto his feet.
Heard another smash from the back yard. It sounded like it was all the way in the back. Maybe the barn.
Clouds were covering the moon, and the darkness was like a blanket hanging in front of his face.
He made it to the shed, where he paused to rest with his forehead against the rough wood. Then he leaned past the edge to see flashlight beams flickering around the barn. Through the open doors and from the upstairs windows.
From the sounds of the breaking glass, somebody inside was angry. Maybe at not finding what they thought was going to be there.
He stood in the dark. Waiting to see what happened. Wondering if he would have to draw his gun for a confrontation. Go back to the porch to protect GG?
He reached behind him. Paused when the lights went out. Moments later he heard an engine start. Almost indistinguishable from the rush of sound caused by wind and bugs.
Frank stood next to the shed for several minutes, before finally giving up like the flashlights had. Made his way back to the porch to sit back down.
Back into his earlier position.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The sun seemed to be shining directly into Frank’s open mouth. Baking the saliva into a salty scum.
He leaned forward, but hissed in pain as his neck straightened.
“Hurts, don’t it?” GG whispered.
Frank cracked his right eye open. Looked over to see GG sitting with his head hanging forward. The good half of his mouth in a smile.
Frank sighed. Rubbed his eyes. “We’re not dead?”
GG shook his head. “Only feels like it.”
His pump bubbled. Frank wondered how much morphine could be in the thing. He told GG what happened last night. “But I can’t be sure until I get back there and check.”
“Can you get me back inside, Dad? I’m pretty tired.”
“Of course, buddy,” Frank said, but he didn’t get up immediately. He struggled to his feet and stretched. Took several breaths. Until he could finally move without shooting pain in his side, or his heart pounding up into his jaw.
He wheeled GG over to the door. Pulled him backward into a wave of refreshing AC. Got him all the way into his room without running into any furniture or walls. Paused next to the bed. “I’m not sure how we’re gonna handle this, buddy.”
“Just get me up there.”
Frank pointed at GG’s lap. “What about … do we need to change you?”
GG shook his head. Hissed in pain at the movement. “Ain’t nothing in it but a little bit of wee. Just get me in bed, Dad. Lemme have this.”
“Have what?”
GG looked up with a smile. “Everything that’s been happening to me hasn’t been my fault. Just fucking wasting away as this thing eats me from the inside out. But this hangover …” He closed his eyes. Took a few breaths before continuing. “It’s my fault.”
Frank understood. Not the need to suffer, but the need to make himself suffer. Like the pain he was about to put himself through getting GG in bed.
Much like the day before, they were both gray-faced and hurting by the time they were done. Frank asked if GG needed anything, but a snore was his only answer. Frank went into the kitchen to fill a glass with water from the fridge dispenser. Drank it down and filled the glass again.
Some caretaker he was.
He could barely take care of himself.
He went out the side door. Looked down at the ground to keep as much sun out of his eyes as he could. Almost ran into the barn next to the open door.
The van seemed okay. Apparently they hadn’t vented their frustration on it. That was something, because when Frank got upstairs, that was something else.
He saw what he expected. Drawers pulled out and emptied. Mattress turned over. Broken glass littering the floor. He thought about sliding his flip-flops off and stomping through it, but that was a bit much.
Frank found his phone on the floor next to a puddle made from the water in a vase shaped like a margarita glass. The flowers had been long dead. No big loss.
The phone needed a charge, but the charging pad was down on the workbench. He gritted his teeth and made the journey. It felt like he had sprinted a mile by the time he got back upstairs.
He tried to puzzle out what was happening while he showered. Waiting for the door to burst open. A gun pushed through the curtain.
What had they wanted? Surely just to kill him in his sleep like the last two. Or maybe to discover what had happened to them.
Had they seen the RV pull away? Now that they had found the barn empty, would they come back, or did they think Frank left too?
Had Wilson told the truth about Jennifer and Becka?
He found some clothes that hadn’t been stepped on in the dark. Didn’t bother with a comb, just pushing hair back with his fingers.
He ate an oatmeal cream pie with a cup of garbage coffee. Took his time on the stairs. Finally got to the phone and powered it back on. One notification from ten last night.
A single text: Call me bitch.
Frank left his cup on the bench. Walked outside to stand with his face turned up to the sun. Sucked in a deep breath before continuing on to Carmen’s grave.
He pulled the phone up, and instead of the number Stan was texting from, he dialed another. One he didn’t even need to get out of his journal. Because Frank had dreamed of dialing this number a thousand times.
He had
n’t considered the day or the time. Or whether she would answer.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded sleepy. Like the call had pulled her out of a deep sleep.
“Freya? Is This Freya Dahl?”
The silence was like waiting for the bandage to pull away from a scab.
“Mr. Grimm? Frank?”
“Yes, it’s me. How have you been?”
“How have I been? I thought you were dead!”
“I’m so sorry.”
“The cops came. Asked me and my mom all about you. Then the media started coming around again. It was Heirloom all over!”
This was a bad idea. Frank pulled the phone away. Brought it back up. Missed the last thing she said.
Frank ran his thumb over the button to end their call, but unable to afford the cowardice, he returned the phone to his ear. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“Stop apologizing!”
Frank swallowed the I’m sorry on his lips. “Okay.”
She sighed. “I asked what happened.”
He told her. A little bit of it. Not because Frank wanted Freya to know, but because he still needed to hear her voice. She was one he had saved. Because of him, she had a life better than the one full of abuse she had been living. Because of him, she now had a choice.
Where none of the other girls did.
She settled into his story.
He paused at the sound of her quietly crying. “Please, don’t cry.”
“But you’ve been through so much, and I feel so bad for yelling at you.”
“No, no. I should have called. Told you what was going on. I’m just … Freya, I’m so lost. And I miss you. And I miss Jenny.” He broke into a sob. “And I want so much for you, baby. I want so much …”
Frank was overtaken by his tears. Crying into the phone while a little girl tried to comfort him from so very far away.
He heard the muffled sound of Irene’s voice in the background.
“It’s my mom,” Freya told him. “I have to get ready for school.”
Frank sniffed. Wiped his eyes. “Isn’t it late?”
“Not here. We’re like an hour behind you guys.”
He grunted. Some detective.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I have to go.”
“Stop apologizing.”
She giggled, and it sounded like dew dripping on rose petals.
“Call me this weekend? Please?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Any time, okay?”
“I promise.”
Another pause where the silence was the precipice of a fall. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
The phone went dead, and his hand fell. He looked away from the mound of Carmen’s grave before raising it again, this time to dial Stan.
The click of the connection opening, then, “It’s about fucking time.”
“Hey,” Frank said.
“What are you doing?” Stan asked.
“Nothing.”
“Perfect.”
Frank rocked from foot to foot. “What about you?”
“Nothing.”
“Perfect.”
Stan snorted laughter. “Look, I been watching you. It seems like you’re fucking shit up worse than usual.”
“Actually, for once, I think I’m doing okay.”
“How do you figure?”
Frank sighed through his nose. “I made a plan, and now I’m executing it.”
“Successfully?”
“Mostly.”
Stan sucked air through his teeth. “You gonna make it out?”
“I really don’t know.”
“You want me to come in heavy?”
Frank wanted to see his cousin. Ached for the family he missed so much, but he shook his head anyway. “I don’t think so.”
So much time passed that Frank thought he may have lost the call.
“You know,” Stan finally said. “One of these days you’ll see what you’re worth. Maybe you’ll even forgive yourself. And you’ll see that I’m right.”
“About what?”
“About how much you mattered, man. About how much you were loved.”
“I don’t know,” Frank said.
“That’s your problem. You never did. I’m going back home, so call me this weekend.”
“Okay.”
And then he was gone too. The only one left was waiting in his room for Frank to come in and kill him with a morphine overdose. He looked up at the cloudless sky.
Why not? It seemed like a good day for it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Frank went inside and put his phone back on the charger. Dug through his ruined loft to find the cooler. Filled it with ice from the freezer. Then threw in everything he could think of that a couple of bros would want while celebrating.
It was GG’s last day on earth. If Frank was lucky, it would be his too.
They would be back for him tonight, and this time they would check the house. Especially when all the lights were on. Like a beacon.
Frank lugged the cooler all the way to the house. Into the front door where he made plenty of noise. He dropped it at the foot of GG’s bed.
His eyes fluttered open. “Hey, Dad.”
Frank slid into the seat. “Hey, buddy. What do you wanna do today?”
“Nothing.” GG shrugged. “I’m kinda thirsty, though.”
His breath sounded like it was passing through pudding. Wet and thick. The deep hollows under his eyes were almost entirely black.
Frank dug in the cooler. Found a blue Gatorade. “First, let’s get those electrolytes up.”
He opened the bottle, and leaned over to grab GG’s straw from the other table. Grunting at the end of his reach.
When he got it he held it up to GG’s mouth and watched as nearly half of it went down.
GG leaned back with a sigh. “That was good. I was pretty thirsty.”
Frank pulled out a cold bottle of beer up for himself.
“I ain’t scared anymore,” GG said. “But can we wait? Just a little while?”
“Of course.”
GG fumbled around for his remote. Finally found it in a fold of the sheets. Clicked the TV on, and the screen filled with a cartoon. Frank had never seen it, but he watched. Laughed along with GG, paying closer attention whenever he pointed.
Every time he looked at his watch, Frank was shocked by how much time had passed. It would happen tonight. After GG was tired enough to finally fall asleep.
Frank would do it then.
But night was coming faster than he wanted.
And what if they came for Frank while he was pressing the button?
So be it.
He had heard Freya’s voice. A little bit of her new independence and spirit. She had sounded so different already. Fierce. Beautiful. Alive.
Like GG had been.
Frank excused himself with the lie that he needed to use the bathroom, hating the thought of GG seeing him weep.
He reached into his cooler on the way by. Pulled out a fresh beer from his stock that was dwindling too quickly. Tapped his glass rim against the plastic Gatorade bottle in a silent toast. Knocked the beer back in one long series of gulps.
“Can we wait until dark?” GG asked.
“Of course, buddy.” Frank looked out the window at the dimming sky. It wouldn’t be long now.
Then he remembered the second bottle sitting out on the island. Only two drinks missing.
He patted GG’s knee on the way by. Came back with the bottle and a pair of glasses.
GG chuckled. It sounded like rustling paper. “One more for the road, huh Dad?”
“That’s right.”
This time the shot had GG coughing until he gagged. Bent over the side of his bed in case he threw up. Leaned back with his mouth hanging open to catch his breath.
Frank got ready to go get the paperclip. Reached down to take GG’s curled hand in his. “I think it’s about time, buddy.”
“Wait,” GG gasped. “I ain’t ready.”
“Are you scared again?”
“No, I just ain’t ready. I need to be ready.”
“How?”
GG closed his eyes. “Can you hold my hand, Dad?”
“I am holding your hand, buddy.”
“That’s good.”
He settled, and his breath slowed. Deepened as he neared sleep.
“I’ll remember you,” GG whispered.
Frank put a hand against his forehead and cried until GG was fully asleep.
Then he filled his glass.
Frank wasn’t sure what woke him up this time. A change in the air? A noise?
GG breathed in a wheezing rasp. Steady and unlabored. A clock ticked outside the room. Crickets and frogs in the yard.
The sound from GG’s cartoon was so low it was barely at the level of hearing. Maybe that? Some weird sound effect?
But then Frank felt it again. A disturbance in the air over his head. Like somebody was standing over him.
“I know you’re awake, old man.” The voice was soft. Almost apologetic. “Sit up straight.”
Frank did as he was asked, and the room came out from under him. He clamped down on the rising bile in his throat. Tipped his head back with a groan.
“Jesus,” said another voice. “You drink that whole bottle by yourself?”
The first voice snickered. “You give any to Cancer Jim here? He looks like he passed out hours ago.”
“And smells like he pissed himself.”
Frank smiled. Nodded his head as if agreeing with every word. He wanted to puke in their faces. Stomp on them when they fell to the floor in disgust.
If he could just make the room stop spinning.
“Now get up, Grimm,” ordered the first voice.
Frank opened his eyes, and by the light of the TV screen saw who was talking to him. “I know you, right?”
“The fuck should I know if you know me or not?”
It was one of Owens’ men from Playa Dolor. The one that went back to wait in the car. Must have been the one that helped Owens after Stan stabbed him in the neck.