Chapter 2 Jeremiah
Jeremiah
The headlights cut across my farmhouse as I pulled my SUV into the driveway, the peeling paint on the clapboard making my home look more decrepit than it was.
It was sturdy, exactly what you thought of when you heard someone say, “They don’t build ‘em like they used to,” but it had decades left in these old bones.
It would outlive me, no doubt. The house lights were out, aside from the flicker of the TV through the living room curtains.
I knew Olivia was still up, taking advantage of my streaming services while she babysat Sam.
Olivia looked up when I walked in. “Hey, Jerry. How was it tonight?”
I shrugged. “How is it ever? Loud, messy, smelly, and sticky.” That was probably how you could describe working at any bar, and Mickey’s was no exception. At least no one punched me tonight.
She made a face but laughed all the same, then got up from the couch and grabbed her purse. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d rather do my homework for English Lit—and we’re reading Charles Dickens, so you know I mean business.”
“It pays the bills.” But only because I owned my house outright.
It had been my parents’ house before it was left to me in their will, and I’d moved into it as soon as I was old enough to live on my own, almost 20 years ago now.
Working at Mickey’s didn’t pay overly well, but my boss was flexible with my hours, which I needed when it came to being an emergency foster parent.
Plus, the 80’s theme meant the music was pretty good too.
“Speaking of paying the bills…” I said, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet and pulling out her fee for the night.
“Thanks, Jerry. My tuition loan appreciates it.”
“You’re welcome, and thanks for watching Sam for me.”
She waved away my thanks. “That boy is such a sweetie. I feel like I’m robbing you blind by accepting this.” She fanned her face with the cash, then slipped it into her pocket with a wink and waved over her shoulder on the way out the door. “Night, Jer. See you next week.”
I watched from the doorway to make sure she got in her car okay, then locked up the house behind her and turned off the TV. The quiet out here was shocking sometimes, away from the city, but I could hear crickets through the open kitchen window.
I did my best to tiptoe up the stairs in my socked feet, skipping the steps I knew that creaked, but there was only so much creeping a man my size could do.
In the end, it wasn’t enough—it never was.
I was just slipping into my bedroom when I heard Sam’s bedroom door open.
I paused and stepped back into the hallway.
“It’s just me, Sammy. I’m home. You can go to sleep now. ”
Without a word, the young teen, sleep rumpled and rosy cheeked, withdrew into his room and closed the door.
I hated that he felt the need to make sure I was still here, but after his parents had both died in a car accident, I would reassure him as long as he needed me to.
I remembered all too well what it felt like to be left alone.
Sleep came easily for me, after a night of checking IDs and corralling drunks at the bar. It’d been ten years of this, and my body was trained for these late nights and early mornings, so after a quick shower, I faceplanted on the bed and was asleep within minutes.
No matter how well I slept, though, it never seemed like enough.
I wished I could sleep in, but it was a school day, which meant getting Sam up and ready for school.
My alarm went off at 7am, after just three hours of sleep.
My finger hovered over the snooze button for a few seconds.
Tempting… but no. That would mean not having enough time to make Sam breakfast, and he was a growing boy.
I could always catch a nap after he got on the bus.
As if I needed a kick in the ass, I heard Rudy the Rooster let out his morning call from his perch in the yard. “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”
Dragging a hand down my face, I groaned and threw back the blanket, like ripping off a band-aid, welcoming the chilly draft that snuck through the loose window frame. Not quite as good at waking me up as a cup of coffee, but it was close.
On the way downstairs, I knocked on Sam’s door. “You up?” I called and got a grunt in reply. “You’ve got five minutes before I come back up with the garden hose.” He’d never called me on my bluff, but I imagined the day was coming. Teenagers weren’t known for early rising.
By the time Sam trudged down the stairs, I already had bacon frying, filling the air with its mouthwatering aroma.
There were bags under his eyes, and I felt the all-too-familiar guilt tug at my heart.
It was my fault for having a job where I came home late.
He slept fine on my nights off, trusting that I wasn’t going anywhere, but he needed to see me here, to have that security.
I really wished I could get another job, but where else would I find a boss willing to put up with my sudden disappearances whenever Child Protective Services needed me with hardly any notice.
That role was important to me, knowing I was there when someone needed me the most.
Sammy dragged the kitchen chair out, but before he could sit, I said, “Ah-ah, aren’t you forgetting something?” He looked at me from under his bangs, and I passed him the egg basket.
“Aw, c’mon,” he groaned, but he was already reaching for the basket, before he plodded over to the back door dramatically and slipped on his shoes.
“You know the rule. If you want to eat the eggs, then you have to collect them.”
“Yeah, fair,” he muttered. He was acting dramatic, but I knew he loved saying good morning to the hens.
I’d never intended to have any animals out here on my parents’ old farm, but that darn kid ate so many eggs that it worked out to be cheaper to raise a few layers myself.
We built them a pen attached to the old red barn so they could go inside whenever they wanted.
They were living a pretty good life, with all the cuddles they could ever ask for.
Samson came back in ten minutes later looking more upbeat. Time with the girls always made him feel better. “Look at Stella’s egg!” he bragged about his favorite speckled hen. He held up an egg that looked far larger than the others.
“That one might feed you for a week!” I teased. “Shall we see what’s inside?”
I cracked it into a bowl, and there were two yolks, and Sammy gave a little gasp in awe. “Cool!”
With a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast, he scarfed down his breakfast while I watched on with my first cup of coffee in hand.
This kid was seriously amazing. The road he was on wasn’t without its bumps, but I felt so privileged to be on the journey with him, wherever it brought him.
I’d helped my share of kids pass through the system over the past 15 years, but the thought of letting him go now was unbearable.
I’d already been looking into the adoption process.
Sammy was my son in every way that mattered. Now I just had to make it official.
I glanced at the clock. “You’d better hurry. Bus’ll be here in five minutes.”
Sam hopped up from the table, put his plate in the dishwasher, then rushed off to pack his bag.
By the time the bus had pulled up at the end of the driveway, he was ready to go.
“Bye, Jerry!” he called back to me, nothing more than a blur and a rush of air on the way by.
I stood on the porch and waited, knowing he would turn back at the last second for a final goodbye.
My heart ached for this kid, and I wanted to show him that I would always be here.
Jacob, the teenager from next door, paused before he got on the bus, saying something to Sam that made him laugh.
And then, just like always, Sam turned and waved, and I waved back.
I saw him glance off to the side, toward the barn, his smile fading for a second, but when I looked to see what had drawn his attention, there was nothing there. Probably a bunny or something.
The bus took off with a roar, gravel and dust kicked up by the wheels.
Soon, it had passed out of sight behind the trees, and I finally let the full weight of my fatigue hit me.
Three hours of sleep wasn’t anywhere near enough to function, not when it was the third time this week I’d had to pull it off.
The screen door closed with a smack behind me, and I headed straight for the living room.
My body felt too heavy to manage the stairs, and the couch would do the trick, too short for my frame though it was. I just needed to be horizontal.
Sammy wouldn’t be home until after 4, so I had every intention of sleeping another six hours. I grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and pulled it over myself, letting my lids drift shut.
It might’ve been five minutes or an hour when I thought I heard someone knock on the door. It was probably the mailman with a parcel. Well, he could just leave it on the porch. I wasn’t getting up for anything.
But then I heard a sound, so familiar but entirely out of place that my eyes flew open. Was that a crying baby?