Chapter 8 #2
By late evening, the bulk of the work was done—the job had been made a little trickier by the fact that we were working on the system while the bar was operating, meaning we had to make sure that most of the taps were running while working on others.
The old guys went home, full of free beer and hot wings, leaving Dunc and me finally alone.
We took fresh pints out into the alley and sat on the old metal folding chairs we keep out there for times like this.
"So," Duncan said, "You and Lindsey."
"No, not me and Lindsey," I answered, "which is the problem."
The door opened, and Dad stepped out, a pint in one hand and a chair from the dining room in the other. He plopped down on it, tipped backward against the wall with his long legs crossed at the ankle, resting his feet on an empty keg waiting to be picked up and exchanged by the distributor.
"Hey, Dad," I said. "Thought you went home."
"Was gonna, but I felt a disturbance in the Force." He indicated Dunc and me. "I've noticed you've been avoiding your brother for the last couple of weeks. Figured this powwow might have something to do with that."
"I wasn't avoiding Dunc," I said. "More his wife."
Dad shook his head. "My oldest boy is married. Fuckin' weird." He eyed me. "What'd Rune do?"
"Nothing, exactly. It's…complicated."
Dad snorted into his pint glass. "This got anything to do with the sparks I saw between you and Rune's best friend, Lindsey?"
"Not sure sparks is the right word," I muttered.
"Sure it is. Sparks don't just come from fire, they also come from friction."
I laughed at this. "That interpretation is accurate."
"So?" He tipped his glass in my direction. "Out with it."
I ended up spilling—most of it. Some things, my dad doesn't need to know about.
Or my brother, for that matter; I hadn't meant to mention that little incident to Jax, it had just popped out.
I was intentionally vague about Lindsey's background, and they both got it without having to be told—it's her story to tell, not mine…
and I don't know the story anyway. All I would say is that she has some shit in her past that makes it hard for her to trust guys, and is scared of relationships.
Duncan looked at me over the top of his glass. "If she's so dead set against relationships and wants nothing to do with you, what are you gonna do?"
I shrugged. “Honestly, I don't know. I hung out with Jax when I first got back into town, and he thinks I should just give her time. What else can I do, anyway? I've made my case. I told her how I feel."
Dad tapped a thumbnail against the glass in his hand. "Jax is right. I know that sucks when you've got all this shit inside you, big feelings and all that, but sometimes, we gotta let people go, and if they come back to us, it's meant to be."
"What about fighting for what you want?" I asked. "What about proving that I’m for real?"
"If she's not in an emotional place where she can handle what you're offering, there's nothing to fight for, Dane.
" He gave me a sympathetic look. "There doesn't seem to be much you can do but give her time and space to sort her shit out on her own, like Jax said.
" He snorted. "Words of wisdom from that knucklehead—who knew? "
“Took me by surprise, too," I said. "He's got hidden depths."
"He still nurturing that crush on Em?" Dunc asked.
Dad answered for me. "Nah. Not gonna say it was puppy love, but he knew it wasn't ever gonna go anywhere."
"I think it was deeper than that," I said. "I think his feelings for her went a lot deeper than any of us realized and lasted for a lot longer than we thought."
"But he knows—" Dad started.
"Yes," I cut in over him. "He categorically stated that he's not in love with her anymore."
"And you believe him?"
I nodded. "Whatever he may still feel, he hides well. He likes Hayden, he knows Sunni loves Hayden, and he wants her, and them, to be happy. I just think it was a lot more than a crush or puppy love."
"She shot him down so many times," Duncan said. "It almost hurt to watch, sometimes."
"Jax is more like his mom than people realize,” Dad said. “Eva is quiet, but like your Uncle Lucian, still waters run deep. I know Jax presents as this hyperactive, outgoing computer nerd, but he's got his mom's depth of emotion. Eva doesn't love easily, but she loves deeply. Jax is the same."
I hated myself for this a little, but I felt jealousy for a second—my dad could recognize that in my cousin, but not me? People have this idea that I'm all jokes, a good time guy, and little else, directionless and shallow.
“He hides the depth a little too well, then," Duncan said. “Like somebody else we know."
Dad smirked at me. "I see you over there, son. I know you and Jax are more alike than anyone realizes."
I should've known better than to doubt Dad. “Yeah, yeah. I'm so deep. Real Marianas Trench of emotion, me."
Dad tapped the side of my calf with a foot. "Knock it off. Self-deprecation is for suckers." He transferred his crossed feet to my lap, which was weird—but kinda…nice.
Affection from your father, when you're a young adult trying to find your place in the world, occupies a complicated place. On the one hand, you wanna be cool and independent and manly. But on the other hand, I'm not so far from my youth that I've forgotten the comfort of my father's embrace.
"Dane, I don't doubt the genuineness of your feelings for Lindsey.
And I don't know her pretty much at all—I barely even met her the day of the wedding.
But you, I do know, and I know you're struggling with finding your purpose.
I know that can be hard in a family like ours, with so many of your siblings and cousins seeming to know exactly what they want. "
I nodded, head hanging. "Dad, did you…did you want to take over the bar when you did?"
Dad blew out a breath. "Askin' the deep shit, huh?" He sipped beer and thought for a while. "No, I didn't. I wanted to get outta fuckin' Ketchikan like the rest of my brothers had."
"So why'd you stay, then?" I asked.
"It'd be easy to say I had no choice, but there's always a choice—just not always a good one.
Sometimes there's only one real possible choice to make.
After your grandmother died, your grandfather…
" Dad hesitated, hunting for the right word.
"Basically, his body stayed alive, but the rest of him died with her.
He gave up, more or less. Spent more time drinkin' than anything else, although he did his drinking behind the bar instead of on a stool in front of it.
My last couple years of memories of Dad are of him leaning against the service bar, a rocks glass half full of Jameson in his hand, watching sports.
He was a diehard Mariners and Seahawks fan and never missed a game of either team.
He'd pull drinks for the service bar, but he'd do it one-handed.
He never got wasted, and he wasn't mean or violent or anything like that.
He just…drank and drank and drank all day, behind the bar, silent and brooding. "
"What was he like before Grandma died?" Dunc asked.
Dad blew out a breath. "Really takin' a stroll down memory lane, huh, boys?"
Callie, one of the waitresses, popped her head out, asking Dunc to comp a ticket for her for a disgruntled customer; he came back out a few minutes later with fresh pints for all three of us.
"Pop was…honestly, a lot like Uncle Lucas.
Big and strong as a fuckin' ox. He had a drier sense of humor than Uncle Lucas.
It could be hard to tell if he was teasing you or being serious, and he played that up.
He convinced your Uncle Zane once that if he didn't stop picking his nose, his whole nose would fall off and he'd be noseless the rest of his life.
Now granted, Zane was like six at the time, but Pop played it so straight I almost believed him myself.
Zane got so scared he quit picking his nose on the spot. "
Dunc grinned at me. "Shoulda tried that with Dane, eh, Dad?"
"I have scratchy boogers, okay?" I said, flipping him off. "You gotta get rid of the crusty ones."
Duncan gagged. “Oh, fuck, that's gross. Crusty ones, bro? Really?"
"Like you don't pick your nose in the car?" I said. "Every guy picks his nose in the car."
Dad chuckled. "Just don't get caught wiping 'em on the seat."
"You flick 'em out the window, obviously." I shook my head. “Way to hijack the conversation, Duncan.”
Dad stared into space. "Pop was awesome, back in the day.
He used to take us camping almost every weekend.
" He smiled faintly, remembering. "Xavier, Lucian, and the twins were too young to go, so Mom stayed home with them.
Dad took me, Zane, Bax, and Brock. He had this giant canvas tent, like, I think it was legitimately used in the Boer War or something, an officer's tent, I think. It was so fuckin’ cool, boys.
It took for-fucking-ever to set it up, but as a kid, it felt like a palace in the wilderness.
He'd dig a firepit right outside the front of the tent, and he always used a…
shit, whaddya call it? Ram would know. An old native American trick where you dig the firepit and then you dig a little tunnel under it and away.
The secondary hole pulls the smoke out and lets fresh air in, so the fire burns hot and the smoke is drawn away. "
"Dakota firepit," I said.