January 17
Luke
T he last place I would have expected to find myself a few weeks ago was sitting around a makeshift fire pit in Sweetwater, Kentucky, tossing back a couple of cold ones with my old buddies, TJ Browerton and Billy Finch. In the back lot of Billy’s garage on the edge of town, no less, surrounded by stacks of old tires and a collection of vehicles in need of repair. What it lacks in ambience, though, it makes up for in other ways. It’s good to be with my old friends.
“This almost reminds me,” I say, “of summer nights on the ranch outside Springdale when I first moved out west.”
“Except this is a far cry from summer,” TJ points out, zipping up his parka.
Yep, without the fire and the alcohol, we’d be freezing. “Guess I meant the vibe. Friends, no pressures, all that.”
Across the crackling flames from me, Billy gives his head an inquisitive tilt beneath a worn ball cap bearing the name of his business. “So what the hell led you to Utah anyway, bruh?”
I can only laugh. It’s the question of the month. “Guess I just fell in love with the great outdoors,” I reply. “Maybe I always was, but it never hit me so hard until I ended up on the ranch. I just…didn’t want to come back inside.”
Looking back on it, it feels like a long time ago. “And I get why my parents were outraged. Probably seemed like I was going nowhere fast. But I was tired of them pushing me toward law school. And in the end, things worked out for the best.”
That’s when I notice TJ, my one-time best friend who I lost touch with around that time, eyeing me peculiarly.
“What?” I ask.
“Okay, get ready for it,” he tells me. “I’m a little drunk, so I’m gonna speak from the heart.”
“Uh oh,” I say.
Billy laughs, but Teej only smiles.
Then he goes quiet and I have to prod him. “What? Out with it.”
“Look…I know you have a good life out there, and you’ve built a successful business. But the truth is, I’ve missed having you around, man.”
No one laughs at that. In fact, the declaration casts a somber pall over the gathering. TJ and I were college roommates for three years and I kinda left him high and dry in that regard. Finally, I say, “Same. But sometimes life leads in unexpected directions.”
“I, for one, admire the hell outta you,” Billy tells me. “Starting a whole new life somewhere far away takes guts.”
I just shrug. “Believe it or not, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. It felt like escape. And freedom. From my father.”
“Listen,” TJ says then, “I know you and your dad were never close, but…how are you handling this? Gotta be tough losing a parent. Especially with no warning.”
As usual when people give me their condolences, though, I just shake it off. “I’m mainly worried about Mom,” I tell them. “Otherwise, I’m fine.”
At this, my old teammates exchange glances, and TJ slants me a pointed look. “Dude, really? Your dad died and you’re fine? You can be real with us, ya know.”
Yet I only shrug. “Like you said, we weren’t close.”
“But…your face right now…” Billy’s eyes narrow on me in suspicion.
And I feel my eyebrows shoot up. “What about my face?”
Both hesitate, until Billy waves it away with, “Nothing, bruh. Forget I brought it up.”
Damn, what the hell is happening with my face? And why does my chest feel so tight? I answer my own questions by tossing back another swig of beer, trying to wash them away.
“I think this conversation has gotten too serious,” TJ declares.
I say, “I couldn’t agree more. Let’s lighten it up, huh?”
And Billy locks his gaze on me to ask, “You ever think about coming home? For good?”
I just flash him an accusing look. “Yep, nothing serious about that.”
“I’m just saying…now that your dad’s gone, don’t you worry about your mom? That she’s gonna be lonely in that big old house with none of her kids nearby?”
“Shit,” I mutter on a sigh. The fact is… “I haven’t had time to think that far ahead.” And I don’t like the thought. “But at least Aaron’s only a couple hours away in Cincy. Still a lot of big questions to be answered—about everything—but I couldn’t move back here if I wanted to. I’ve got a thriving business out west.”
They both nod in understanding as TJ replies, “Well, I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
The three of us fall silent then, nursing our beers and soaking in the night. It’s nice catching up, but this conversation has become less the distraction I’d hoped for and more about my current concerns. Between all the responsibilities falling to me right now—plus this new added worry about Mom—who can think very far into the future? The right now is keeping me stressed enough on its own.
“Speaking of Utah, you guys should come out,” I suggest, still trying to lighten the mood. “Hike the Mighty Five with me.” I know the big five Utah parks like the back of my hand because it’s my business to. “We’d have a great time.”
“That sounds good,” Billy answers, more upbeat.
And TJ adds, “Yeah, I’d be into that. Maybe this summer after school lets out.”
Billy points to the cooler at his side, asking me with his eyes if I want another, but I say, “Nah,” giving my head a short shake, thinking I’ll be heading home soon. He gets one out for himself and pops the top.
And that’s when TJ asks, “Any idea what you’re gonna do about this drywall plant situation?”
I tilt him an annoyed look. “I see we’re still sticking to lighthearted subjects.”
A small, guilty chortle leaves him. “I know, I know—but it’s on everyone’s mind now, night and day.”
“Mine included,” I inform him. “I feel like I’m carrying the weight of the world, or at least Sweetwater, on my shoulders.”
“Sorry,” he says, contrite. “I guess you do have a lot to deal with. So much for relaxing with your old buddies and an adult beverage, huh?”
But I head shake it away. “No worries. Like you said, it’s there all the time, even when I’m trying to shut it off.” Then I look to Billy. “ You own a business in this town. What do you want to happen? You said no to the factory at the meeting, but has anything changed for you since then?”
Billy takes a swallow from his newly-opened can, then says, “Tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Do I think bringing more people to this town would help it? Of course. But do I think some giant factory on the river would ruin the place?” He lets out a sigh. “Of course.”
I nod, remembering Taylor’s pie-in-the-sky idea of some magical, outside-the-box solution coming along. I only wish it were that simple. “The more I think about it,” I tell my friends, “the more confused I become.”