Eight
eight
DOG DAYS ARE OVER - FLORENCE + THE MACHINE
OWEN - MAY 17, 2013
T he final day of my Steamfitters apprenticeship arrives, not with ease, but with a tension that buzzes beneath my pride. The last two months have been a whirlwind—late nights, grueling hours, every task piling up on the weight of the one before it—all leading to this moment: the day I become a Journeyman.
I stand on the job site, hands rough and calloused, marked by years of labor. The sun beats down relentlessly, casting long shadows over the construction site. Around me, my coworkers are busy putting the finishing touches on the new cancer center for the children’s hospital in Iowa City. The building, a gleaming mix of steel and glass, reflects the sun’s glare like a beacon. It’s beautiful, yes, but there's something else—something raw about knowing what this structure represents and the lives it could change.
As I tighten the last bolts on the high-pressure steam line, a knot tightens in my chest, winding tighter with each turn of the wrench. This shift marks the completion of my eighty-five-hundred hours for the Steamfitters Local. I’ve poured five years of sweat and grit into this apprenticeship, but the gravity of this moment? It feels too big to grasp. Over four years of relentless working hours, testing my limits both on the job and in the classroom since I first applied back in 2008. Now, standing here, the weight of it all hits like a punch.
The past two months have pushed me harder than I ever imagined. Endurance. Skill. I’ve been navigating the labyrinth of this cancer center job—blueprints, welding, pipe fitting—everything a test of my mettle. I learned from seasoned journeymen, soaked in their knowledge like my survival depended on it. My best friend Will convinced me to start this journey five years ago, stood by my side through it all, showing me the ropes, pushing me to be better, faster, sharper.
And now it’s finally paying off. Literally. When I clock in on Monday, I’ll be walking in as a Journeyman pipefitter—five dollars an hour richer, but that’s not what’s making my heart race. It’s the finality, the pressure, the realization that after all these years, all the sweat and stress, I’m stepping into something bigger. Something I can’t afford to fail at.
"Congratulations, Owen," my supervisor Tim says, clapping me on the back. His hand is heavy, solid, like everything about him—burly, thick beard, gruff voice that commands respect. "You’ve earned this."
I nod, swallowing the mix of pride and relief swelling in my chest. This is it—the moment I’ve been working toward for years. With my journeyman’s card, I’ll have more responsibility, more opportunities, and most importantly, I’ll be able to provide a better life for Barrett. Everything I've pushed myself through has been for him.
But as I pack up my tools, ready to leave the job site behind, a strange hollowness settles over me. There’s a sense of accomplishment, sure, but it feels incomplete. Despite the long hours, the sweat, and the physical exhaustion, she’s still there—the woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes. She’s been haunting my thoughts, visiting me every night in my dreams. No matter how hard I try to shake her off, she lingers in the back of my mind, an ache that won’t fade.
I push the thought away as I head home to clean up. Tonight’s supposed to be about celebrating, about forgetting everything for a while. Will and I made plans with my stepbrother, Luke, and they’ve both promised me free drinks in honor of my journeyman status. It’s the perfect excuse for a low-key night with the guys—something I’ve been looking forward to for weeks.
Even as I think about the drinks and the laughter, that sense of something missing gnaws at me. It’s been there for a while, growing louder with each passing day. And no matter how much I try to drown it out, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the start of a much bigger battle. One that has nothing to do with pipefitting.
As I walk toward the Black 'N Gold Bar & Grille, the sounds of laughter and music grow louder, pulling me out of the quiet weight of my thoughts. It’s a stark contrast to the suffocating silence of my apartment—when Barrett isn’t there, at least. Up ahead, Luke and Will are already waiting, leaning against the brick wall like they’ve been up to no good. Luke, with his shaggy blond hair and those mischievous gray eyes, looks particularly pleased with himself.
I raise an eyebrow, suspicion creeping in. “What’s going on?” I ask as I approach .
“We’re just here to celebrate, buddy,” Will says, clapping me on the back, his voice full of reassurance. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, always the steady one.
“Yeah, we figured a few drinks would be a good start,” Luke adds, his grin widening into something more dangerous.
I nod, a half-smile tugging at my lips. “Sounds good to me.” But in the back of my mind, I’m bracing myself. Knowing these two, there’s no way this night ends without some kind of chaos. If they’ve hired a stripper for my turnout day, I swear I’m gonna kill them both.
We push through the door, and the noise hits me like a wave. The dimly lit bar is packed, the smell of alcohol thick in the air, the hum of rowdy conversation filling the space. It’s the kind of place where the energy is electric, where people come to forget, to let loose. The jukebox in the corner is blasting some classic rock, the bass heavy and relentless. My eyes catch on a sign above it, glowing under the backlight:
DO NOT play Creed on this jukebox. Your song will be skipped. NO REFUNDS! I fucking hate Creed.
- Hunter Holloway, Owner
We will also skip Nickelback, Hoobastank, Matchbox 20, Hinder, Buck Cherry, Def Leppard, the song “Wagon Wheel” or any other overplayed terrible music.
Thank you for your understanding and remember, no Creed.
- Mandee Holloway, Owner’s Wif e
The note on the jukebox makes me laugh—who doesn’t hate Creed?—but it reminds me how much I’ve missed the little things, like hearing "Wagon Wheel" on repeat. Barrett’s been obsessed with that song and the thought of seeing him tomorrow tugs at my chest. The past few months have been brutal, not just because of work but because of all the time I’ve missed with him. Now, I finally have a whole week with just the two of us, and I’m counting down the hours.
I smirk at the sign, but a gnawing feeling stays at the edge of my mind. The loud, carefree atmosphere should distract me, but instead, it amplifies the unease lurking in the back of my head. I feel it tightening, that unresolved tension pulling at me. Luke and Will joke around, already talking about shots, but my mind drifts back to the woman with green eyes.
Her image feels too close, too real, even now.
"Come on, man, you’re too quiet tonight!" Luke nudges me, pulling me back to the present. “This is a night to celebrate, not stand there like you’re about to bury a body.”
I laugh, forcing myself to join in, but that nagging feeling won’t let go. Something’s off.
I push thoughts of her aside for now and follow Luke and Will toward the back patio. The bar’s warm and familiar, walls covered in old photographs and sports memorabilia—mostly for the Hawkeyes, of course. Comfortable booths line the edges, and high-top tables fill the center. The bar itself gleams, polished wood and rows of craft beers on tap. It should feel like a place to relax, but there's this underlying tension in me, something pulling at the edges of my thoughts.
As we approach the patio doors, I start to notice familiar faces. People from my apprenticeship class, coworkers from the hospital job, and then, to my surprise, family—Dad, Beverly, even Mom. My heart skips a beat when I spot Sabrina and Barrett. They’re here. They’re really here .
My heart swells with gratitude and something else—something I can’t quite name. I had no idea they were planning this. But if Barrett’s here, I silently pray Luke and Will didn’t get any ideas about strippers.
“Surprise!” The shout hits me as soon as we reach the table. The room explodes with cheers and applause, and I’m caught off guard, grinning despite myself. The feeling is overwhelming—like the ground underneath me is shifting in the best way possible.
Sabrina comes up with Barrett by her side. Her auburn hair falls softly over her shoulders, and her kind smile—the one I fell for years ago—still lights up her face. “Owen, we just wanted to show our support. We can’t stay long, but Barrett’s really proud of you. So am I. I know how hard you’ve worked for this.”
I crouch down and scoop Barrett into a hug. “Thanks for coming, buddy. It means everything to me that you’re here.”
Barrett’s eyes shine up at me, big and brown, full of that innocent admiration only kids have. “Mommy says you’re a real big deal now, Daddy. And I’m supposed to say, ‘Comgratuwations.’”
“Thanks, kiddo,” I say, laughing as I ruffle his hair. We do our secret handshake, but before I know it, he’s bolting toward my mom, calling for Nana like he always does. The joy in his voice echoes through me, grounding me, but at the same time, the tension in my chest tightens.
I stand up, watching him disappear into my mom’s arms, and a strange feeling washes over me. Gratitude, pride... but also something darker, something lurking in the corners of my mind that I can’t quite shake. Even with everyone here, celebrating my success, there’s still a part of me that feels... unsettled.
Sabrina smiles warmly. “You’ve earned this, Owen. Enjoy your night. I’ll stick around for a bit, but just so you know, Barrett is spending the night at your mom’s. That way you won’t have to drive all the way back to Cedar Bluff in the morning.”
I nod, feeling an unexpected swell of emotion. “You can stay as long as you want, Sab. I appreciate you being here. And for everything while I finished out the apprenticeship—changing schedules, being flexible... I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am. And thank you for letting Barrett stay with Mom tonight. I know you didn’t have to.”
She smiles again, but there’s something else in her expression, something hesitant, as if she’s weighing her next words carefully. “I’ll always be here for you, Owen. You know that. And after everything your mom’s been through, I’ll never stand in the way of her spending time with Barrett.”
We share a friendly hug, but as she pulls back, she lowers her voice to a whisper so soft I have to strain to hear her in the noise of the crowded bar. “I’ll have to leave soon, though. I have a date with Alex tonight,” she says, her smile beaming.
Her words hit me harder than I expect. I’m genuinely happy for her—Sabrina deserves to find someone who makes her smile like that. But there’s also a sharp twist of something else, something I wasn’t prepared for. A kind of wistful nostalgia as I realize that the giddy side of her, the one I used to bring out, is now shining for someone else. "I’m glad you’ve found someone, Sab. I really hope he treats you well."
She nods, relief flooding her features. “Thanks, Owen. It means a lot, hearing that from you. Alex is going to be great with Barrett too. I’ve been thinking... maybe I could introduce him to Barrett soon? But I wanted to run it by you first. Maybe you should meet him before that happens?”
Her words settle uncomfortably, a reminder that things are moving forward, that the parts of our lives that used to overlap are separating more and more. I push past the unease and nod. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like to meet him first.”
Sabrina smiles a mix of gratitude and understanding in her eyes. And while I know this is the right thing, a part of me can’t quite shake the strange sense of loss creeping in, like I’m watching a door slowly close on a chapter I wasn’t fully ready to end.
But it has ended.
So, I fake it.
"Actually, you know what? If you think he’ll be great with Barrett, I trust your judgment. After all, your track record with men shows you have impeccable taste.” I let out a laugh. “Well, except for that Owen guy. Yeesh! What a tool. Although, he was pretty hot.”
Sabrina shakes her head, laughing despite herself. “Modesty was never your strong suit, Owen. Good to see some things haven’t changed.”
I give an exaggerated stage bow. “Why, thank you. I aim to please.”
“You’re impossible,” she says, still fighting off laughter. “No wonder there’s a line of suitors out the door for you tonight.”
I roll my eyes and look toward the door in mock astonishment and let out a gasp as if I’m appalled.. “Listen, I got married once and it turns out, I wasn’t very good at it. I don’t see that ever happening again. I have Barrett, and I work all the time. Marriage just isn’t in the cards for me again. You have at it though. Now that you got that Practice Marriage out of the way, you should be good to go for the next round.”
She slaps me on the shoulder, laughing. “I’m not talking about either of us getting married again, Owen. I’m just saying… your charm is… an acquired taste. There might actu ally be someone out there who can keep you around. And put up with your bullshit.”
Her words land harder than I think she means them to, a quick sting that I try to shake off. Sabrina’s always been blunt—one of the things I’ve always loved about her—but sometimes, the truth hits a little too close to home. Still, I force a grin. This is a good night, and I’m not about to let a moment of honesty derail that.
Just then, the patio doors swing open, and the bartender steps out with a tray of shots. As she passes, I quickly grab two—one for me and one for Sabrina—silently thanking whoever decided to buy this round. I hand her the glass with a smirk.
“Only one shot,” I remind her, “and you’re staying long enough for it to clear your system before you head out. Besides, maybe it’ll take the edge off before that hot date tonight.”
We laugh, clinking our glasses together before downing the shots. The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat, and as the familiar sting hits, I realize it’s the same whiskey I had way too much of on our wedding night. Talk about full circle.
“Here’s hoping this night ends better than the last time I had too much of this stuff,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows at her.
Her cheeks flush pink, and she punches me lightly in the arm. “Shut up,” she says, her tone playful but warning. She’s never been a fan of my humor when it teeters on the edge of crude, but I can’t help but laugh at her reaction.
In this moment, the weight of everything—our shared past, the path we’ve taken to get here—seems to hang between us. But instead of it feeling heavy, it feels... lighter. Like we’re both finally on the other side of something we never thought we’d get through.
It’s then that I notice the bartender standing across the room, still working but clearly keeping an eye on me. She’s pretty, around my age, with curly blond hair that frames her bright blue eyes. She’s wearing an Iowa Hawkeye jersey, tied up just enough to show a hint of skin above her low-slung jean shorts. She’s not my usual type—I tend to lean more toward curvier women—but there’s no denying she’s beautiful. I grab my beer from the table, raising the bottle in a silent “cheers” with a wink in her direction.
Sabrina catches the exchange, and as we part ways, she mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “shameless flirt” under her breath. I chuckle, shaking my head as she heads out. The rest of the night is spent surrounded by friends and family, celebrating this milestone in my life. As I look around at the smiling faces, hear the laughter and clinking of glasses, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for everyone who’s been by my side through it all.
As the party starts winding down, my phone buzzes with a video call from my cousin Vince. He looks exhausted, his eyes heavy from working double shifts at the prison. His girlfriend is pregnant with their third kid, and he’s been pulling extra hours before his paternity leave kicks in. “Sorry I couldn’t make it, man. Just trying to get everything squared away before the baby comes,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“No worries, Vince,” I assure him. “You’ve got a lot going on, and we’ll catch up soon. Take care of yourself.”
After the call, Sabrina gives me a quick hug goodbye, followed shortly by Mom and Barrett. I wave them off, my heart full as I watch them go. Dad and Bev hang around a little longer, but they eventually head out too, making the drive back to Cedar Bluff. Despite the tension between Bev and Sabrina—and the mountain of unsolicited advice Bev has offered over the years—I appreciate that they made the effort to come.
I’m also grateful that Sabrina held her tongue tonight, probably knowing I’d already had enough awkward moments to last a lifetime.
The night at the bar stretches out longer than I’ve stayed out in years. We drink, laugh, and reminisce about the journey that has led me to this moment. Despite the late hour, the guys show no signs of slowing down. As the rest of the crowd begins thinning out, it's just Will, Luke, and me left at a high top table on the patio. We decide to venture into the main bar where it’s quieter now, the buzz of conversation reduced to a low hum. And no Creed, thankfully. The bartender wipes down the counter, glancing over at us with a tired but amused expression.
Luke leans back in his chair, his eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. “So, Owen, now that the apprenticeship is done, what’s next for you?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I say, fidgeting with the label on my beer bottle. “I thought about getting back on FlameFinder, but I don’t know.” I pause, noticing the label reads Apple of my Hawk-Eye, and the corniness of it makes me laugh mid-conversation.
“I hate dating,” I admit after composing myself. “I just miss having someone to talk to and spend time with. I guess dating is a necessary evil, but with work and Barrett… I don’t even know if I have time to really get to know someone.”
I shake my head, looking down at my beer as I swirl the liquid inside the bottle, peeling off the label completely. The bar has a wide variety of craft beers, including local favorites, and I mentally note to check if Hunter Holloway runs a brewery nearby. I need a distraction, and that seems like a good one.
Will leans in, his voice steady. “I get that. And listen, I know you’ve been through a lot, but you deserve to be happy too. ”
“And if that happiness just so happens to involve a cute little bartender with blond curls who's been giving you the ‘fuck me’ eyes all night, then so be it,” Luke chimes in, casting a knowing look toward the bartender, a bemused grin on his face.
I think back to Sabrina’s earlier comment and decide that if anyone is the shameless flirt here, it’s Luke Olsen.
“It’s not that simple, Luke,” I reply, more serious now. “I can’t just bring anyone into Barrett’s life. I made that mistake with Brittany a couple of months ago. I let her convince me to bring her kids over for a ‘play date’ with Barrett, right after Mom moved out of the apartment. I had a strict no PDA rule because I wasn’t ready to introduce her as my girlfriend yet.”
Brittany Stone was a nightmare, plain and simple. Her two boys—six and eight years old—were little terrors who ganged up on Barrett every chance they got. When I confronted her, irritated beyond belief, she brushed it off with a smug, “Boys will be boys,” and had the audacity to suggest I didn’t understand because I “didn’t have enough experience as a parent yet.” That was the last straw. I told her to kick rocks and never looked back.
Will nods thoughtfully. “I get that, man. But you need to remember, not every woman is Brittany.”
“Thank fuck,” Luke and I say in unison, the words a shared breath of relief.
We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. Their concern for me is obvious, and though I’m not sure how to act on it yet, I appreciate it. I know they’re right. I just don’t know what my next step should be.
The blonde bartender walks over, a friendly smile lighting up her face. Luke wasn’t wrong—she’s pretty damn cute. “Last call, gentlemen. Can I get you anything else? ”
I glance at Luke and Will, shaking my head. “I think we’re good, thanks.”
She nods, collecting our empty bottles. Her smile lingers, a little flirtatious now. “I hear congratulations are in order. What’s the occasion?”
Luke jumps in before I can say anything, slapping me on the back so hard I almost choke on the last sip of my beer. “Our buddy here just finished his Steamfitters apprenticeship. He’s a big shot now, making the big bucks.”
The bartender laughs, glancing at me. “Well, congrats on the big bucks, then. Be safe getting home, boys.” She walks away, and Luke, ever the smooth operator, leans so far back in his barstool, checking out her ass, that he almost tips over. At the last second, he catches himself, grabbing the edge of the table before completely toppling over.
“You are ridiculous, Luke,” I say, shaking my head. “Keep it in your pants, or I won’t be the only one at this table with a kid running around. I think it’s time to call it a night.”
Will nods in agreement. “Yeah, we can’t party like we used to.”
“Speak for yourself,” Luke says, his words starting to slur and holding up a napkin I didn’t notice was even put on the table. “Looks like you’ve still got it, man.”
He hands me the napkin and sure enough, it has the name Heather written on it with a phone number and a simple “text me sometime,” note scrawled on it.
“Yep, that does it. You’re sleeping on my couch tonight, bro. Not a chance in hell I’m letting you get on your bike,” I say with a warning. Will is already planning on staying at my place tonight so he doesn’t have to take a twenty-five mile rideshare back to Iowa City.
As we stumble out of the bar, the cool night air hits me, clearing my head slightly. Will and Luke are both grinning like fools, clearly enjoying themselves. I smile, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me. As we walk back to my apartment, the streets are quiet, the only sound is our footsteps echoing off the buildings. I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a rare moment of calm in the chaos of my life.
When we reach my apartment, we opt for a nightcap, and we settle in the living room, nursing our drinks and talking about everything and nothing.
As it turns out, Luke did, in fact, want to hire a dancer for the party tonight. Thank fuck Will thinks with the head on his shoulders instead of the one in his pants and reminded Luke that I have a kid that would be there.
Luke laughs, looking unrepentant. “Hey! I didn’t know that you’d already told Sab we were throwing a party for him. Besides, I just wanted you to celebrate properly and, you know,” he shrugs, “see some titties!”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I assure you, if I was that worried about seeing titties, I can find them myself.”
I lean back, taking a sip of my drink. I had the stereotypical after-divorce hoe phase but the fun wore off after about three months and just left me feeling numb. It’s been a long time since I actually dated anyone.
At one point after the divorce, I downloaded some dating app Luke suggested and it was great for the no-strings-attached flings but I can’t imagine finding someone real through one of those matchmaking sites.
As the night wears on, we continue to talk, the conversation eventually turning to lighter topics. We share stories from the job site, reminisce about old times, and laugh until our sides hurt. It’s moments like these that remind me of the importance of having friends who have been through the ups and downs with me .
Eventually, the energy in the room starts to wane, and we all exchange knowing looks.
“I think it’s about that time,” Will says, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.
“Yeah, we’ve had enough excitement for one night,” Luke adds, though he doesn’t look too eager to leave the comfort of the couch.
As we all stand, gathering our things, Luke looks at Will and says “So, who’s getting Barrett’s bed?”
Will smirks. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
Luke beams with excitement. “Lizard, Spock?!”
I burst out laughing. “You guys watch way too many episodes of The Big Bang Theory. ”
“There’s no such thing as too much of that show,” Will protests.
“Yeah, Leonard,” Luke says, nudging me with a grin, “you know this is the only way we settle things.”
With dramatic flair, they play out the game. After a few intense rounds, Luke triumphantly declares, “Lizard eats paper! Barrett’s bed is mine, Mother Fucker!”
Will shakes his head, laughing. “Well played, sir!”
As I make my way to my bedroom, still chuckling, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for their friendship.