Falling From Grace

Chapter 5

5

T his morning’s sunrise hadn’t eased or cleared my mind. Not even the coyote’s howl was enough. There were some days when my mind was just bad enough that nothing could help it. Nothing could keep me from remembering that each time I now looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. When did it happen? When did I start looking like Mama? My lips weren’t as pink as they used to be. Even my eyes weren’t as bright. But most of all, I was tired and broken in ways that no one knew about. Parts I thought weren’t capable of ever being broken. What I hoped for was that maybe someday someone would ask me how I really was doing and hold me as I cried on their shoulder. Not wanting anything in return. No expectations. Just a simple expression of love.

And that’s all I wanted from my pa when he grabbed the bag of food from my hand as I stood there on the porch in my bare feet. “Christ, you couldn’t have moved any faster? Didn’t you hear me? I called you three times.”

“I was in the bathroom. Sorry, Pa. Morning sickness. I told ya I still get it sometimes.”

Pa rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m gonna be late again.” He walked back to the truck where the driver side door was still open.

As Mama once said, Pa never trusted anything that bled for five days and lived to tell about it. He put the truck in reverse and drove off. I waved the dust from my face and sat down on the step, wiping the bottoms of my feet. From all the mornings I’d sat on this porch over the past eighteen years, nothing much had seemed to change since Mama left. The dirt still burned on the hottest of days, and the warm breeze swayed the mesquite trees in the same direction. Yet what was different was that I couldn’t see the happy faces in the clouds anymore, and after the sun rose, all the colors of the day seemed dull till the sun set. But what I could always count on was the smell of Arlene’s biscuits and blackberry jam wafting through the air, knowing the smile it would bring to my face. Today though, it was my second smile. The first was when I watched the cloud of dust settle on the road as Pa left.

What would it be like?

To see this trailer fixed in the rearview mirror. To see this place fade until it melted into the horizon. Able to go anywhere. To be free, like I always wanted. I’d always wondered if I did leave, would I ever have the opportunity to see the ocean? To escape from the heat? Something that Mama and I used to daydream about. That even beyond wide stretches of desert, water did really exist. Would it be like seeing one big sky?

Yet, as much as I wanted to escape, it wasn’t my own life anymore. Nothing was as simple as getting in the car and driving off to Lord knows where when I was two months shy of pushing out a baby. Exhaling, I made that promise again. A promise I had made to myself, but now I knew I had to see it through. Not just for me, but for her. “One day, baby girl...one day, I’ll get us outta here.”

The neighbor’s truck came up the road and turned into his driveway. I sat upright. As he climbed out and walked around to the back of the truck, my eyes couldn’t help but follow. Like each time I’d seen him, my heart quickened. He had all the things no girl my age should want or like in a boy. He didn’t have bare arms. His shoulders were broader. And he couldn’t hide the troubles of life as easily as one could when blessed with youth. He made his way to the porch with a heavy box and set it by his door. Even the way his back muscles flexed underneath his white T-shirt was different. He stood and headed to the truck to shut the tailgate, running a hand through his disheveled hair. And just as I thought I had gotten away with staring at him, he stopped in his tracks and his eyes landed on me.

I pulled my shoulders back, gave him a small smile, and waved as I said, “Mornin’.”

“ Mornin’.”

And just as I expected, no other words were exchanged. It was becoming the longest staring contest of my life. But it wasn’t just him, now, that was unsure of what to say. He stood there for another moment, and just as I gathered enough courage to say something else, he quickly walked away with his head down. He scratched the back of his left ear. I watched him, my curiosity only growing.

“ Mornin’, Grace.”

I turned so fast that I felt a brief moment of whiplash.

Arlene had stepped out from her trailer with pink rollers still in her hair and a spatula in her right hand. “Have you and that baby eaten anything yet? I made those scrambled eggs you love. And those biscuits.”

“Really?” I grabbed my sandals and pushed myself up. “I thought you only made ’em on Sundays.”

“Well, let’s just say it’s Sunday then. How about that? Now come on. I don’t want ’em gittin’ cold.”

She waited by the door and helped me up into the trailer.

No matter the years, nothing could ever mask Arlene’s hairspray and perfume from seeping out of the wood panels. Not even her cooking. Ray and I reckoned if it weren’t for the two built-in bookshelves that proudly showcased Arlene’s antiques, the smells wouldn’t be as tolerable. The table was already set with plates of perfectly toasted bread, sausage links, and biscuits. And last but not least, Arlene’s famous homemade blackberry jam. “It smells really good, Arlene.” I sat down in the kitchen booth.

“Well, I hope it tastes just as good.” She smiled and returned her attention to the sizzling pan on the stove.

Whenever Arlene had her back turned, she strangely resembled my mama. Down to the lopsided roller in the back of her hair and to the way she’d place one hand on her hip. And for a moment, I had my mama again. A moment where I could imagine she hadn’t left me. That she loved me. That this food lying before me was hers. Like the basket of biscuits that I never had the heart to tell Arlene I didn’t like. But the day after my mama left, I was sitting in the same place I was now when they suddenly tasted better. That’s when I learned that on the bad days, the little things become the big things. Like Arlene’s smile that was just as warm and filling. She set a plate of steaming scrambled eggs in front of me and sat across the table with her glass of iced tea. Eager, I sat upright and reached for the saltshaker. But before I could give it a shake, Arlene eyed me with a look of disapproval.

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m using the salt.”

“No, you’re not. What makes you think I didn’t put salt in them? So give it.”

“ But—?”

“No buts. Give it.” Arlene grabbed the shaker from my hand, placing it far from my reach.” I swear, you think you’d know by now that too much salt is bad for you.” She shook her head, stirring the two packets of sugar into her iced tea and tapping the spoon once on the rim.

“I do know.”

“You say that, yet you still keep eatin’ it with everything, Grace. Like those Slim Jims.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I saw that.”

Smiling, I spread a layer of blackberry jam across the fluffy dough of the biscuit. Only after adding two forkfuls of egg onto the perfectly layered biscuit did I take a bite. The delightful mix of sweet jam, cheesy eggs, and a pinch of salt was now a taste I could never grow tired of.

“ Good?”

“Best scrambled eggs ever.”

“Good. That means I haven’t lost my touch,” she proclaimed with a nod, setting the spoon on her napkin. Her fingers smoothed the crinkled corners, seeming to dwell on something important. “So I saw your mama’s VW driving away that day when I was on my way back from Mrs. Taylor’s.” Arlene treaded carefully as I stopped chewing. “Did everything go okay? I haven’t had a chance to ask you.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I answered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before taking a bite of eggs.

She looked at me just as she did whenever Ray denied double-dipping into her jam. Her lips puckered and she nodded, still smoothing the crinkled corners of the napkin. “Well, whenever you wanna talk about it, I’m always here to lend an ear. You know that, Grace. Okay?”

“ Thanks, Arlene.”

She smiled.

Ray emerged from the hall with the blue buttoned-down shirt and khaki shorts Arlene had given him a year ago for his birthday. And with her hand underneath her chin, she admired him. He halted and flashed a toothy grin.

“What? You see somethin’ you like?” Ray spread his arms wide and slowly spun for her to take him all in. “Didn’t know your man could still clean up good, huh? And can you believe that these fit? I give it a week.” He patted his gut. “ Mornin’, Grace.”

“ Mornin’, Ray.”

“How are you and that baby doin’?” he asked.

“ We’re good.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” Ray made his way to the kitchen and lifted the pot of coffee, taking his sweet time emptying every last drop into his travel mug. “That bread for me?”

“Just how you like ’em. Some butter and some sugar. You gonna join us? You look like you’re on your way out. Where you goin’?” Arlene asked, watching him secure the lid back onto the mug.

“Well, I was thinkin’ of popping over to the hardware store. We need a few things. The leg’s busted on my chair. And there’s nothin’ much else to do right now that doesn’t involve dying from heat stroke,” Ray said, leaning against the counter. “I swear, if someone tells me to stay cool one more time, I’m gonna throw a fit. Dry heat, my ass,” he muttered as he took a sip of coffee.

I held back a laugh, but my belly shook anyway as I took another large bite from the biscuit.

“Why don’t you ask Mr. Taylor if he needs anything? I’m sure he’d love to go for a ride,” Arlene said. “You haven’t gone over there with me in a while. They’re always askin’ me where you are.”

“Honey, I love you, but I don’t think Mr. Taylor and I are meant to get along in this life. And that’s fine by me. I just should’ve known sooner.” Ray shrugged, lowering the cup from his mouth. “Like the day he put up the BUSH sign in front of his trailer. Three years later, it’s still up. Guess what, the election’s over, buddy. And there’s no way I’m sharing space with that man after what he said to me. I still have half a mind to go over there and smack some sense into him.”

“What’d he say, now?” I asked.

“He keeps goin’ on about that new neighbor. Just because he doesn’t drive an American-made truck doesn’t mean he doesn’t love America, Larry. And those engines run just fine if not better—?”

“ Ray.”

“I know. Let it go. Okay, I’m gonna git goin’.” Ray kissed the top of Arlene’s head. “I’ll also take a couple of these for the road.” He reached over and grabbed two slices of bread. “Have fun, girls.”

“ Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye, Ray,” I said with a mouthful as he left. “You’d think people like Larry would find better things to do than talk bad about people. It ain’t nice, Arlene. He don’t even know him.”

“So I take it you and him did talk when you were in his truck the other day?” she said.

I stopped chewing and looked up at her, knowing there was nothing I could say to convince her otherwise. Like the time I was seven years old and stuck my finger into an outlet, a small shock of electricity stunned me into a mental blank for five seconds. Was this her intention? Lure me in with her cheesy scrambled eggs and then the second after Ray left, cleverly find a way to begin the interrogation? Arlene’s gaze stayed fixed on me as her pinky tapped the side of the glass.

“ How’d you—?”

“Ray told me.”

“Gosh dang it.”

“ Grace—?”

“You gotta know I was just fine walkin’ back home, Arlene. But there he was, sittin’ in his truck. And I didn’t really wanna walk. The more fat I get, the more my feet hurt. It’s a real pain.”

She set down her glass of iced tea, exasperated. “What did I tell ya about callin’ yourself fat?”

“Sorry.” I rested my chin in my hand, picking at the scrambled eggs with my fork. Looking back at Arlene, I waited. Would she say I was two fries short of a Happy Meal like my mama would? But instead she just shook her head and reached across the table for another packet of sugar. “Shouldn’t you be tellin’ me not to do it again? That I was stupid? He could’ve been a bad guy, Arlene. You never know. I really could’ve winded up with my own Reader’s Digest story.”

“Well, was he?” she asked, emptying the sugar into her glass of iced tea. “A bad guy?”

“No...no, he wasn’t,” I muttered and dropped the fork. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t stupid, Arlene. You know what my mama would’ve done if she found out I did such a thing?”

“Quit sayin’ you’re stupid, Grace. You weren’t stupid. You wouldn’t have gotten into that man’s truck if you weren’t trusting that gut God gave you. It’s there for a reason. You know that. We don’t know nothin’ about him to say he’s a bad man. Now don’t you dare give me that sour look.” Arlene pointed at me. “You know very well what I’m talking about. You were the same way with Ray when you were little. Remember? It took you a while to warm up to him. I think you were six when you actually smiled at him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“That might’ve been the greatest day of Ray’s life. When you finally smiled at him.”

“ Really?”

“Sweetie, Ray loves you like his own. And I do, too. It’s why I know even if I did tell you to stay away from that neighbor, I don’t think you’d even listen to me. You’re still young in that respect. I say to do one thing, and y’all do the opposite. It’s a vicious cycle. My three boys were like that. Told my second youngest to not knock up his girlfriend. And what’d he do? He’s now married to her and on their third kid. All I’m gonna say, Grace, is that I think he’s more scared of you than you are of him.”

“I guess. He don’t really look at me,” I said, picking at my scrambled eggs. “I don’t blame him though. Not a lotta people like lookin’ at me. Even when they do, there’s always a look in their eye.”

“But I saw him talk to ya just now.”

“I wouldn’t really count it as talkin’, Arlene.”

“Well, either way, you gotta admit...” She stirred her iced tea before continuing. “...he looks mighty fine in those Levi’s. And don’t think I didn’t see you starin’ at him earlier out there. So don’t try lyin’ to me.”

“ I—?”

“ Hush.”

I sat back in the seat, defiant, and looked out the window. “Believe it or not,” Arlene began as she slowly slathered a layer of butter on her biscuit, “there was a time when Ray looked pretty good in those. I think he knew it, too. Always had that big grin on his face, bless his heart.”

“ He did?”

Arlene laughed heartily. “Oh, he did.”

T

Two days passed. While I had found solace in the mundane routines of watching the sun rise, eating breakfast, and walking the mile and a half to the gas station, there was still enough time in the day for me to think about him. And when I did, the rational part of my mind often wrangled the other to keep quiet. Mama told me nothing good came from being curious. It was one of the few things she was right about. Cause here I was. Pregnant and stuck with my pa just like she had been with me. Sitting on the step, I watched Pa’s truck drive away. After giving myself ten seconds, I pushed myself up.

“Alright, baby girl, you ready to head over to Sam’s?” I caught my breath. “I swear, you’re gittin’ bigger every day.” I dusted off my tank dress and slid my feet into the pair of sandals.

By the time I was at the end of the road, I was grateful for the white T-shirt underneath to protect the tops of my shoulders from being burned. The sun seemed to burn brighter than ever. And no matter the hand on my back for support, with every step I took, a throbbing ache shot up from my feet to my spine. Taking a much-needed break, I stopped to catch my breath. A strand of hair fell in front of my sweaty face, and I blew it away. My throat was already parched. I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

Exhaling, I went to take a step forward. It was then my insides twisted like licorice, and a broken cry escaped me. Thirty long seconds of pressure passed, and the muscles finally relaxed. Breathing out, I slowly stood upright and took a few more steps. The hum of an engine caused me to lift my head, but before I had a real chance to look, that same pain returned across my lower back. I bent over again, holding my thighs. The ground spun, and I began to quake with fear that something was wrong. My eyes opened at the sound of tires skidding to a stop and a pair of hurried footsteps.

“Grace!” a familiar voice called out, full of worry and panic. A whine quickly followed.

“Harley?” I croaked just before heaving onto the ground. The hurried footsteps came to a stop. A hand then gently pulled the hair back from my face, and the other kept itself on my arm to keep me steady. “Oh, God, that didn’t taste so good. I think it was those chicken—?” My eyes squeezed tighter, persevering through the pain as it spread across my lower back again. I stifled a cry, holding my head down. “Sweet baby Jesus, it’s never hurt this bad,” I groaned, struggling to breathe through the pressure.

His breath seemed close to my ear, but his concerned voice sounded far away. I put my hand on his arm, afraid I would fall if I didn’t, and to reassure myself he was still nearby. “Seven months.. .she shouldn’t be coming,” I stammered over my frantic breathing. “ I-It’s too—?”

“Grace, look at me.” His voice was calm and gentle. Bit by bit, my vision began to clear as I focused on him. And for some inexplicable reason, the look in his brown eyes resonated with me. “I need you to pull yourself together. Can you do that for me? The stress isn’t good for the baby. Okay?”

I nodded, still unable to take a steady breath.

“Now I want you to inhale for four. Hold it for four, and let it out for four. Okay?” His tone was soft. I nodded again. “You gotta breathe. Just like this.” He inhaled, and I followed with a shaky breath, then held it and released it as he did. “Now do that a few more times. I’m sure the baby’s fine. I think you’re just dealin’ with some Braxton Hicks right now. Nothin’ you gotta—?”

“No, no.” I shook my head, my breaths coming and leaving in short and fast intervals. “They never hurt this bad before. Really—?”

“Hey,” he said calmly. “Grace, you gotta breathe. In for four and out for four. Remember?”

I inhaled and held my breath for four counts and then released it. And bit by bit, the tightness in my chest loosened.

“There’s nothin’ for you to worry about. I know it feels real bad, but Braxton Hicks can get worse for some, uh, women, when they’re closer to their due date, and sometimes it’s just the baby shiftin’ around. That’s all,” he reassured me with not even a slight tremor or hesitation in his voice.

The look in his eyes was so certain, and once again I believed everything would be okay without so much as a second thought.

“I wanna get you some food and water. If you don’t feel better, I’ll take you to the doctor. You okay with that?”

“ Uh-huh.”

“Can you stand?”

I nodded, but as I stood the ground began to spin again. “I think I’m...” I began to fall back.

“Grace!” He grabbed me swiftly and pulled my arm over his shoulder, starting to walk us to the truck as fast as he could.

“Baby, my baby,” I mumbled, my legs becoming weaker.

“Don’t worry about the baby. I just need to get you some water and something to eat.”

He opened the passenger door, helping me onto the seat with little effort. I watched him hastily grab a bottle of water from a cooler in the backseat. The urge to heave returned again. He shook the water droplets off his hand and was about to twist the cap off when I slumped forward, letting my head fall on his shoulder. My muscles relaxed like syrup being poured on a stack of pancakes. Soap, the tang of sweat, and even the faint note of Harley tickled my nose. His scent made my whole body relax, all the way to my tippy toes. Even the beat of his heart and the rise of his chest. And for some reason, I fought the impulse to cry. He reached up, pressing his cool palm against the side of my forehead.

“Am I...am I a bad mother?” I asked unexpectedly, my lips trembling at the thought.

His chest deflated, and he lowered his hand. “No. No, you’re not a bad mother. Stuff happens. Now, you really need to drink some water. And not all at once. Okay?” He twisted the cap off. “Just a little bit at a time.”

I nodded, taking the bottle from him. Only when I took that first small sip did he say, “Alright just keep doin’ that.” He shut the door and jogged around the truck. Leaning back, I was all the more grateful for the cool A/C to help fight off the nausea. Harley whined and licked my face, and I patted his side.

“I’m okay, buddy. Don’t worry.” I took another sip of water and exhaled in relief, not realizing just how badly I had needed it. Placing my hand over my belly, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

While the hum of the truck kept me from dozing off, I couldn’t bring myself to look away from my belly. I was relieved to feel her little legs still moving inside me. Was this what my mama felt like? Sad? Scared to take care of another life when she didn’t even know how to take care of herself? Angry for ever allowing such a thing to happen to her? But no matter how afraid I was of becoming like my mama, I didn’t want to be alone. I’d been alone all my life, and this was my chance at happiness. All I knew was that for my own selfish reasons, I could never hand my baby over to another family. I wanted to be the one to see the first smile on my baby girl’s face and to feel those little fingers wrap around mine. Looking away from the window, I quietly reached into my purse and took out the small folded piece of paper that had my top two names written on it. Slowly, I unfolded it. I glanced over, catching his gaze, and I turned over my palm to hide the note.

Unable to help myself, my eyes focused his way again, and I watched him shift in the seat, keeping his elbow propped on the windowsill. Every several seconds he’d let his thumb rub to and fro across the heavy stubble on his chin like he was thinking real hard about something, and based on the subtle crease in his brows, I believed it. Just as I believed that unfamiliar feeling that came from just the look in his eyes and everything he had said to me. The feeling of being okay but not knowing why. Since I was a child, nothing had ever been okay. Any time anyone told me everything would be okay, they ended up being wrong. It was just something to say to make me feel safe, even though I was far from it. Like with men. Men had always scared me. I never knew what it meant to feel safe with a man until Ray. But the more I looked into the eyes of the man sitting beside me, the more I believed I was okay. Yet all I kept waiting for was that tiny irrational thought to come back, telling me I wasn’t.

When I turned away, I saw the Minit Mart ahead, and a small dose of panic shot through my nerves. That’s when reality quickly settled back into my mind. “C-Can you park at the end? In the last spot?” I said, catching his peculiar expression. Every bit of me expected him to question my reasoning, but instead he remained silent and pulled the truck into the last empty space. He cleared his throat as if he was about to speak but instead just sat there for a long moment.

“So, um, I’ll be back in a jiff, okay? I’ll leave the A/C on, but feel free to roll down the window if you need it.”

“ Okay.”

He nodded and glanced over at me, hesitant, before hastily climbing out and shutting the door. I sat upright in the seat and looked at the entrance, then back at him. The lock flicked back and forth three times.

Harley and I watched him jog down the strip of pavement and as he held open the door for an elderly man, before walking into the store. I sat back, anxiously biting my bottom lip as people came and went. A little girl with pigtails and a yellow dress, holding an orange creamsicle in her hand, left the store. Harley’s ears perked. Whenever I saw a child with a bright smile on her face, I still asked myself if I was a bad person for keeping this baby. Would I be keeping her from a happier life? The child skipped down the sidewalk and pointed at Harley, gasping, “Granny, look! A doggy!”

The older woman by her side turned her head my direction. Mrs. Anderson’s brows raised, and I sank into the seat as deep and as fast as I could. Once the little girl’s voice became faint, I slowly raised myself in the seat and checked for any sign of them nearby. My chest deflated. I peered over the dashboard, seeing the top of my neighbor’s head as he finally walked out of the store. He opened the driver’s side door, setting the shopping bag down on his seat. Harley sniffed the bag, wagging his tail.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I kinda got you a little of everything,” he muttered, reaching into the bag. I leaned over the console as far as I could to sneak a peek in the bag just as Harley did. “There’s some Greek yogurt, some trail mix, and a granola bar. All good things to eat when you’re pregnant. Also, some apple juice. I-I tried to find one that’s not loaded with sugar, ’cause the insulin production to the baby and all that can go up. It’s not something you want.” He spared an awkward half- smile, rubbing the back of his left ear. I looked at the bag, then at the juice box he had set down in the cup holder, unsure of how to express my gratitude. Even with just a simple thank you.

“Anyway, um, I hope one of those things tickles your fancy. If not I—?”

“Tickles my fancy?”

“Yeah, my...my pop used to say that a lot. But, um, you’re fine with these things, right? If not, I could run back in and find somethin’ else.”

“No, these are fine. Thank you. You didn’t have to do all that.” I took the bag, resting it on my lap.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said, suddenly bashful. He climbed into his seat, shutting the door.

I plunged the straw into the top of the juice box, taking a sip. The crisp taste cooled my body, and I relaxed into the seat. The engine accelerated as we turned back onto the road. Despite the inevitable silence, this time I didn’t mind it. If anything, I finally understood what my mama had told me years ago. That there are times when we’re more ourselves around strangers who don’t know our stories than with the ones we see every day. If he didn’t ask, I wouldn’t tell. It was peaceful. I ripped open the bag of trail mix, realizing just how hungry I was. Each salt-coated nut settled the nausea as I chewed.

“So, um,” he began and cleared his throat. I looked over at him, surprised. Harley even perked his ears, directing his attention away from the bag of food in my lap. “What’s that you got there? You were lookin’ at it earlier.” He gestured to the folded piece of paper that had slipped off my lap and onto the seat. I looked to where he pointed and reached down.

“Oh, it’s just some list of names I got from this baby magazine,” I said. “They’re my top two.”

“ Top two?”

“You making fun of me?”

His right brow quirked. “No... no, what are they?” he asked, his voice full of hesitation and curiosity.

His question momentarily caught me off guard. I sat there, unsure of how to answer. There was something different about the way he asked me than when Mason did. Like it was an obligation to do it, and Mason never wanted or liked to be expected to do anything. He liked doing things when he wanted to in his own time. But this was entirely different. This man simply wanted to know.

I hesitated at first. “You really wanna know?”

“ Yeah.”

“ Why?”

“I wanna know.”

“Daisy and Faye.”

He glanced at me with his usual expression, but this time his eyes were unexpectedly gentle.

“Daisy and Faye. I like it.”

I placed the list safely back in my bag and closed the clasp. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure, I guess,” he said gently but guarded.

“How’d you know that it was Braxton Hicks? And that thing about the baby’s insulin. I didn’t think you’d...”

“Think I what?”

“Know that,” I muttered, but I knew he heard it loud and clear. “And I know that’s a bad thing to say, I know, but not a lotta men do. At least the men I know. It just took me by surprise is all,” I admitted. Looking over at him, I caught his glance, expecting him to be offended. But before I had a chance to figure out if he was or not, he had already returned his attention to the road, his fingers tapping on the wheel every few seconds.

“Well, after I got back home, I got married. So...” He went quiet and shook his head in disbelief. “That was seven years ago now. I can’t believe that. Time really does fly by.” Catching my stunned expression, he then asked, “What, you thought I was younger or somethin’?”

“ No.”

“Oh.” He turned back to the road. “I guess it doesn’t really help that most men in my family start graying by the time they’re pushin’ thirty. And I bet my beard doesn’t help either. Anyway, uh, since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a father and...” He went quiet again as if to process the fact he was speaking out loud about it to someone he didn’t even know. “My wife and I tried for a while, but after we lost...” He cleared his throat with an unsure look in his eyes, afraid to expose himself even more. “It—It just wasn’t in the cards for us, so I signed up for another tour. End of story,” he replied short and quick, scratching his beard. “You never know where life’s gonna take you, that’s for sure.” He exhaled and focused on the road harder as if it would empty his mind of unpleasant memories.

I stayed quiet and watched his eyes darken in sadness. And though he didn’t say anything further, his words had begun to click into place one by one in my mind like a puzzle.

I looked at my lap.

“I think any child would be lucky to have you as their father.”

His eyes snapped at me, and I immediately expected a cheap shot about how I shouldn’t say such things. Things I wouldn’t understand. Yet it was anything but. His eyes were soft, tender, and even relieved, like a part of him had been yearning to hear those words for so long. I looked at the bag of trail mix as the silence grew. Harley rested his chin on the console, watching me pick out another cashew, hopeful.

“How...” His voice broke. “And how would you know that?” he asked, facing forward.

“Well, you said you’d wanted a child since you were a kid. That says a lot about you. Don’t you think?”

“That’s...” He paused, and his eyes swept my face so fast that I only had about a second to fully catch it.

Even though it was brief, there was something in his eyes that told me he was trying to figure out the real me. He averted his attention back to the road. His cheeks flushed red and he let the silence build again; his eyes still soft, despite their intensity. While a part of me had become accustomed to these awkward silences, it had also given me that chance to witness the light of the sun reveal each emotion in his eyes. And although we stayed quiet for the remainder of the drive home, every several seconds, we found ourselves catching each other’s glances. As we drove up the dirt road, I kept my arm propped on the windowsill and my hand by my face to avoid another run-in like I’d had with Mrs. Anderson.

He parked the truck in front of my trailer, but before I could step out, he had already made his way around and opened the door.

“You know, you don’t have to do that.”

A faint smile spread across his face, and he scratched his beard, saying, “Well, my pop may not have been the best parent out there, but he did raise me right in some ways. Here let me take that.” He took the bag from my lap.

“Oh, thank you.” I carefully stepped down and faced him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And thank you for the um...”

“ The ride?”

“ Yeah.”

“Yeah, no problem. So, um, just take it easy for the rest of the day. Okay?”

He handed me the bag of food and walked past me, shutting the passenger door.

I turned to leave but stopped, looking back at him. “Hey.”

He halted in his tracks and regarded me, lowering his hand from his left ear. “Yeah?”

I hesitated. “Can I at least pay you back? I wanna pay you while I still have the money.” I opened my bag, digging through it. “My mama always taught me to have cash on hand in case you’re in a sticky situation or needin’ to repay someone for a favor,” I said as I found the last several dollar bills, counting them out loud. He propped his arm on the frame of the driver side door and stared at me, strangely curious. “What?”

“You’re in sticky situations often?”

“Well, as my mama said, you never know.”

“ Uh-huh.”

“Let me just run inside and get another five for you. I’m sure that will be enough then, right?”

“Look, kid, you don’t need to pay me.”

“I’m not a kid,” I stated firmly.

The same peculiar expression formed on his face, his brows pinching together. His mouth slightly opened to speak, but I continued.

“And I told you to stop calling me kid.” I turned away. Halfway up the porch, I looked back as he was about to climb into the truck. “Also,” I called out. He paused and lifted his head. “I’m not some charity case either. So, stop it.”

I walked up to the door just as the truck’s tires churned the dirt. Unable to help myself, I glanced over my shoulder one last time to watch the rear of his truck leave down the road. And for the first time in seven months, a small pang of guilt weighed on my chest. Old habits really do die hard. Even pride.