After hanging up the phone, I grabbed some things for Sarge. He’d need his water bowl, leash, service vest, a ball, and a few treats. Leaving him in a car in the deep Texas summer simply wasn’t an option. And since I had no clue why George was calling his son an ass, I couldn’t be certain that anxiety and panic weren’t going to be waiting for me when I arrived.
Despite the uncertainty of it all, I drove to George’s house, confident that he’d called me for a reason. And if I was the one to whom he’d reached out, I wasn’t about to let him down.
Snickering at myself for that stupid fucking thought, I revved the engine and turned up the radio. “Of all the fucking songs,” I cursed as the lyrics to Everclear’s “Father of Mine” blasted through the speakers.
Here I was all gung-ho for helping a man who, for all intents and purposes, was a complete stranger to me while I hadn’t spoken to my own son in days. My fingers itched to dial the numbers, but my head knew better than to put Simon, and myself for that matter, in an awkward position. I didn’t know what Delilah had told him. And I never called him back after that first time like I’d promised. Shaking my head, I wondered what the hell was so fucked up about me that I was capable of pushing that entire part of my life to the side simply because I had to chase down someone I had known a long time ago.
But as the miles flew by, and the song changed to something less meaningful, I hated myself a little less. Even when I left California, Jude was most definitely not onlysomeone I had known a long time ago.He represented everything I thought I needed to make my life complete, and honest. And when I was finally reunited with him, theideaI’d thought he symbolized became a reality.
He was the beauty my life had been missing as I’d swum through a colorless ocean, heading to the bottom, fast.
And even though I’d turned my back on Simon, it wasn’t a permanent decision.
But no matter how much I knew I’d return to him, I had no clue how I would walk away from Jude. In my heart, I knew it wasn’t possible. As I pulled into George’s driveway, I shoved those thoughts out of my head. Not having the energy to deal with them now, I figured I would get to them eventually.
Just another lie I was telling myself.
Much to my surprise, George was waiting in the doorway as I got out of my car. Sarge followed me closely, immediately recognizing the yard. As much as he wanted to run up to George and dance in front of him to be petted, his duty made him stand at my side. “Come on, boy,” I coached as I opened the front gate.
“Come here, pup,” George called out, but Sarge ignored his call, staying right at my side.
It wasn’t until I stood before George that I told Sarge, “Okay,” letting him know he could go to George. The way his eyes lit up as he wrapped his arms around Sarge’s neck, let me in on at least part of the reason he’d called me.
He was lonely.
Internally, I laughed at myself. Wasn’t I the expert on that, after all?
“Come in,” he insisted as he held the door open for me.
Shock washed over me as I took in the view before me. The place was freaking spotless. Well, not literally, but in terms of what it looked like the other day, it looked like a damn Mr. Clean commercial.
“It’s only been a few days,” George explained, making his way to his recliner. “I haven’t had much of a chance to trash the place.” As he lifted the can of beer to his lips, he added, “Yet.”
As I lowered myself to the sofa next to him, the memories of fooling around with Jude rushed over me, heating my skin. The couch had to be at least twenty-five years old, but if he ever got rid of it, I would be more than a little sentimental.
Bringing myself back to the here and now, I crossed my leg, letting my ankle rest on my knee. Seeing how he seemed to cut the shit and get right to the point, I figured I’d join him. “So about that?” I asked, tipping my head to the can. Jude said he didn’t bother to bring it up, but he had a relationship on the line.
I had nothing to lose, so I figured, like I had done so many times before, I would take the bullet for someone else and do what seemed like the impossible task.
“The drinking,” I clarified when he shot me a confused look, his brows twisted together like an old pair of shoelaces.
“This?” Holding the familiar red, white, and blue can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, he looked at it as if it were a foreign object as opposed to the natural extension of his hand like we both knew it was. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He was joking, but it was met with crickets. When he saw I wasn’t going to take any of his bullshit, he cleared his throat and put the can down. “I have a problem.”
“You don’t say.” There was no disdain in my voice. No hatred. Just pure sarcasm, letting him know he hadn’t been fooling anyone all these years. And since it was coming from someone he hardly knew, it had to hit him a little harder.
“That obvious, huh?” He laughed, a humorless, cynical sound falling from his thin lips.
Dropping my elbows to my knees, I leaned forward, hoping to convey to him that I was here if he wanted to talk. “As the day is long, George. The real question is, do you want to do anything about it?”
“I could ask you the same thing, son,” he said, tipping his head at the mess of a knot that was my hair. It had grown so long since I’d been home from the war and my metal fingers made it difficult to maintain. But my disdain for interacting with people made maintaining my shoulder-length hair a real problem in my life. But to be honest, between the metal arm and the Grizzly Adams look I was sporting, it worked out well in terms of people avoiding me.
It was exactly what I wanted.
“Good call,” I quipped, running my hand through my hair. When my fingers tangled in a huge knot, I laughed, trying my best to remove them without much pain. “Okay,” I said as I stood. “Let’s addget a haircutto the list for today.” And since there was no list to begin with, that would be a good enough place to start.
Within a few minutes, George was ready to go. Sarge sat in the back seat of the car and was more than happy to pop his head into the front seat for George to pet him as I drove. “Here’s where I go,” George announced, pointing to an old-school barber shop. Outfitted with a red and blue barber’s pole, it looked like it had been lifted out of the fifties and placed here.
Figuring my hair couldn’t possibly look much worse, I pulled up in front, parking right on Main street. “George,” the barber greeted as George walked in front of me. “Good to see you.” They shook hands and exchanged a half hug, half back slap. Clearly they’d been friends for quite some time. “Where’s Jude?”
