Chapter 18 #2
He consulted with his brothers and his parents and most of all, his wife. He prayed every morning and every night that he wouldn’t do anything too badly to mess his children up too much or drive them away from him and Georgia.
OJ finished the song, and Otis had barely heard a note of it. But he clapped and said, “That is sounding real good, buddy.”
OJ set his guitar aside and came closer to the desk. Otis already knew what he wanted, and he nodded to his phone, “You can text her,” he said. “But buddy, Thanksgiving is in four days, and we don’t really know what she’s doing.”
“I know,” OJ said.
“You don’t think her parents have invited her?”
“No,” he said. “Grandpa Graham said they did.”
“What else did Grandpa Graham tell you?” Otis asked.
“He said she hadn’t decided,” OJ said, something earnest on his face. “And I just think that I could invite her too, and maybe she’ll feel comfortable coming down. We’ve got those adopted ducks right now, and one of ‘em needs his wing looked at.”
Otis gave his son a small smile. “Maybe she won’t want to work when she’s not at her own clinic, bud.”
“Yeah, I know,” OJ said. “But it doesn’t hurt to ask, right?
” He raised his chin, something hard glinting in his eyes.
“That’s what Momma says. Momma says it doesn’t hurt to ask, and so every night, when I get down and pray, I just figure it doesn’t hurt to ask God for what I want.
And He’s been helping me be a real good guitar player and a good older brother.
And I am so good with those ducks, Daddy, so I just think I could text her, and maybe—”
“Okay, okay,” Otis said before OJ really got started. The boy loved to ramble, and once he got on a roll, it could be difficult to slow him down. “I told you to text her, so go text her.”
OJ grinned and took the phone over to the couch. He started typing, a look of great concentration on his face. A few minutes later, he brought the phone back and handed it to Otis.
He read the message, because that was their rule. OJ got to type the message and Otis would help him refine it, hopefully teaching him a little bit about texting as well as how to deal with a delicate situation.
Hey, Bailey, OJ had said. It’s OJ, and I talked to your daddy, and he said that he invited you for Thanksgiving, but that he didn’t know if you were coming or not. They’re coming to our house, and we’re gonna have a giant turkey and a big candied ham, and I’d love to see you.
“Wow,” Otis said, chuckling. “You put in a turkey emoji.”
“Yeah, but not like the turkey that’s the animal,” he said. “But like the turkey you eat.”
Otis lifted one eyebrow as he looked at his son. “They’re the same thing, bud.”
“No, but the emojis aren’t the same,” OJ said. “Look, I put the ducks down below.”
An overwhelming wave of love crashed over Otis as he continued reading. We’ve also got a pair of adopted ducks right now. They’re living with our chickens, and one of them has a sore wing, and I know that you could help him get better. The vet here doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing at all.
Sure enough, after that, he’d included two duck emojis.
Anyway, no pressure. I just thought I’d ask.
Otis looked up, his heart bursting with pride. “This is a great text, bud.” He handed the phone back. “You can send it.”
“Really?” OJ asked. “You didn’t change nothing?”
“I didn’t change anything,” Otis corrected. He nodded to the device. “Go ahead and send it.”
OJ took a deep breath and then sent the text. He practically dropped the phone as if it had caught on fire. “I’m not going to get my hopes up, okay, Daddy? If she can’t come, she can’t come.”
“That’s right, son,” Otis said. “It would be nice to see her, but if she can’t come, she can’t come, and we don’t get to decide what’s best for her.”
“No,” OJ said. “She gets to decide what’s best for her.”
“Yep,” Otis said. “And sometimes people want to do things, OJ, and they simply can’t, because they’re sick, or they can’t afford the gas, or whatever.”
He looked down at the phone for a moment, and pure, childlike innocence filled his eyes as they widened. He looked back at Otis. “We could pay her gas.”
Otis grinned and shook his head. “That’s not the point, buddy.
Bailey’s a vet. I’m sure she can afford the gas.
I’m just saying—more often than not, we don’t know the reason why someone can’t come.
It could be something like they can’t afford it, or they’re too ill, but it could also just be something emotional that we don’t understand, and we don’t have to understand. You know what I mean?”
OJ tilted his head and said, “I don’t know if I get it, Daddy.”
“It’s like that boy…Travis,” he said, surprised that the name of one of OJ’s classmates had arrived in his head. “He invited you to his birthday party and you didn’t want to go. Remember?”
OJ’s features darkened. “Yes,” he said. “He’s not very nice.”
“Right? But you had no reason that you couldn’t go. We were free that Saturday. We have plenty of money to buy a present. Me or your mother would have driven you. So why didn’t you go?”
“Because I don’t want to be his friend,” he said. “He’s not nice to anyone, even his friends.”
“I’m sure that’s not why Bailey wouldn’t come,” Otis said. “But she has a lot of complex feelings, and she’s allowed to have those feelings. All we can do is invite.”
“I know,” OJ said.
The phone buzzed, and they both looked at it. OJ looked at Otis again, and he nodded. “Pick it up; see what she said.”
OJ did, and he read out loud, “Thanks so much for this invite, OJ! I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it, but I should know by Monday, and I’ll let you know. Okay?”
He looked up, and Otis saw all the hope and apprehension in his son’s eyes. He gently took the phone from him, as OJ said, “So we’ll know by Monday, yeah? Then we’ll know if we need to go buy more food.”
Otis chuckled. “Buddy, it’s one person. We’re not gonna need more food.”
“Yeah, but Bailey really likes those brown sugar carrots,” he said. “I could make them for her.”
“Sure,” Otis said, because this was not a hill he was willing to die on. “Why don’t you go ask your mother to see if that was part of her menu, and if it’s not, and Bailey comes, I’m sure she’ll let you make them.”
“All right,” OJ said, and he skipped out of the office.
Otis watched him go, and then looked down at his phone as it started buzzing again.
This time it was a smaller group message with just him, Luke, Trace, and Tex in it.
Trace had started it, and he’d asked, How are you feeling about Joey and Adam?
Do you think this is going to be a problem for Country Quad?
Otis thought about the question for a moment, feeling a gentle chastening move through him. Either he trusted Joey…or he didn’t.
Then let his thumbs fly as he typed out his response.
Not at all.