Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Dixon
Going home again, this time in my own car I’d bought with money I’d earned legally, was weird.
But as I turned off Old Fish Creek Road onto the lane that would lead me to Merv’s place, I realized the fear I used to feel every time I stepped foot on my family’s land was gone.
It used to take at least three hydrocodone and two Xanax to get me up this road.
Now, though, I was clearheaded and free from all that bullshit. Noah Lee was dead, so that helped, but it wasn’t him on my mind anymore as gravel shifted and settled beneath my nearly bald tires.
The only person on my mind now was Stuart.
He was probably at school. Wait, is kindergarten all day or do they still go half days? It didn’t matter, though, because before I could see Stu and try to… whatever it was I was trying to do, I’d promised Merv I’d come back and we’d talk.
So that was my plan, but when I pulled up in front of her house, it wasn’t Merv I found. It was Bea. And she was alone.
“Hi,” she said as I got out of the El Camino. “Nice car. You gonna fix it up?”
“Yeah, I might. Just to give my hands somethin’ to do.”
“Cool. God, I still can’t get over how different you look. Big change from the last time we met.”
“You mean when I abandoned my kid in your cabin?”
She smiled, but pity laced her tone. “Yeah.”
“Well, I am different. I’m sober, four years now.”
“Good,” she said, nodding. “That’s good. Um, are you here to see him? The school year just started, so he’s still there.”
“Stu? I’d love to see him, but I wouldn’t do that without talkin’ to you and Bax first. No, I promised Merv I’d come back and let her know where I’m stayin’ and check in. You’re welcome to join us.”
Bea snorted. “You’re on your own there, captain. That sea’s a little too choppy for me. I have to get back to work anyway. We got some mail up at the house for your mama, so I dropped it off on my lunch break.”
Man, I really liked her. And now I had a clue where Stu had learned how to be funny. Bax hadn’t influenced that particular personality trait; my brother was about as funny as a paper plate.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For?”
“For lovin’ my kid. For teachin’ him everything he knows. For bein’ his mama.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know you didn’t, but I’m still grateful you did.”
“You’re welcome.” She nodded over her shoulder toward where Merv had just opened her screen door and stood on her porch. “Good luck in there.”
“Thanks.”
“By the way,” Bea said as she pulled open her truck door, “Stu taught me everything I know too. He and Bax and Athena gave me a family and made me a mom. So did you when you brought Stu here, so I’m a little bit grateful to you too.”
Bea’s unexpected grace filled me up in places I never knew were empty, and I let it lift me up and carry me toward a hard conversation. She waved out her window as she drove away, and I smiled. It didn’t feel forced or fake. Bea was real. Her words were genuine, and I knew I could trust her.
“I’ve been waitin’ for you to come back,” Merv said when I turned and headed toward her.
“I said I would, but I s’pose you’re not used to me doin’ the things I promise.”
She tsked her tongue and waved me inside, and I followed. She had always done that, spoke in hushes and gestures so that I was never sure what she really meant.
“Is that not true, Mama?”
She sat in a plush, sage-green recliner in front of her big-screen TV. “I reckon it is true.”
“Then what was the noise you just made?”
“I just don’t like hearin’ you talk about yourself like that. You were a good boy.”
Okay then, guess we’re just gonna jump right in.
“When I was little, I was a good boy. When I was a teenager, I wasn’t so good. And as an adult, I’ve let you down in many different ways. I’m not a boy now, and I don’t want or need you to treat me like one.”
Merv froze and stopped her chair from rocking. Her knees popped. The sound echoed around the quiet house, and it was then I noticed how mangled her arthritic hands had become.
“Listen, I’m not here to blame anybody for anything. I made my own poor choices in life. But I’ve had to learn how to hold myself accountable, and I’d like you to try to do the same. I want you to expect good things from me, not excuse the bad things I’ve done.”
“That’s fine, I guess.”
“No, Merv. It’s not ‘fine.’ I’m tellin’ you what I need.
You can give me what I need, or you can decide not to, but you should know that sobriety is my priority.
Stu is my priority. Our relationship”—I wagged my finger between the two of us, but the hurt look on her face told me she knew exactly what I meant—“and the dysfunction that came with it was so unhealthy. And the way I dealt with it, the way I manipulated you and the way you manipulated me, helped me stay sick, so if you can’t get on board, then I’ll have to distance myself. ”
“I understand,” she said. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s been goin’ to therapy.”
“Abey mentioned that. I’m glad to hear it.” I sat on the couch, but I couldn’t relax. There was just too much bad blood, and it flowed between Merv and me now, like the churning sea Bea had alluded to. I didn’t belong in my mother’s house. Sometimes I wondered if I belonged anywhere.
There was so much more to say, but the timing didn’t feel right. I’d barely been home a week, and I couldn’t risk upsetting Merv yet, in case she interfered with Stu.
It seemed she wasn’t up to the harder conversation either. “So, how’s Mrs. Ellison’s place?” she asked.
“It’s fine. It’s just a room, but that’s all I need right now. But I got a job.”
“I heard. Devo tells me they hired you up at the community center.”
“Yeah. Abey said Devo works there, too, but I haven’t met her yet. I also took a part-time gig at the vet clinic on the weekends, helpin’ with the animals.”
“That’s nice. I’m happy for you. Why don’t you come for supper Sunday? Everybody will be up at the big house. Athena wants to see you, too, and you could see your son.”
“I might,” I said, “but I’d like to check in with Bax first. Make sure he’s okay with it.”
Merv grumbled something but then started pushing her feet on the floor and rocking her chair again.
“Mama, say what you mean, please. The passive-aggressive bullshit doesn’t do either of us any good.”
“Fine. You’re right,” she said curtly. “I said that Bax needs to get off his high horse, and I’m not ashamed I said it.”
“Bax has every reason to be angry with me.”
“He can be angry if he wants to,” she said, “but I wish he’d try for all our sakes. Most importantly for Stuart’s sake.”
“He’s protectin’ Stu exactly like I asked him to.”
She sighed. “When did you get so level-headed? It’s kinda annoyin’.”
Shrugging, I said, “I dunno about level-headed, but you’re just not used to me sober.”
“That’s true.” She stopped rocking again and leaned forward in her chair.
“Dixon, I know I’m not the best at communicatin’ how I feel, but I’m workin’ on that, and I want you to know that I’m so happy you’re home.
I’m proud of you, and if havin’ you in my life again means I have to change, I’ll do it.
“For you, I’d do anything.”
The old place had been repainted and Bax and Bea had added a new wraparound porch, but the house was still the same ugly sunshine-yellow color, like it had been when I was a kid.
I parked between Bax’s blue Ford he’d had for probably ten years and a tricked-out, black RAM, and as my boot touched the dirt beneath my tires, yips and barks filled the air. I heard cows too and sheep. Like I could ever forget the bleating sounds of sheep.
As I walked toward the new barn, I remembered the first time I’d seen it, when it had been newly built, right before I dumped my kid.
But I’d hung around before that, with Stu strapped to my chest in a bed sheet, trying to get up the courage to face my family.
In the end, I couldn’t do it. I knew how ashamed they were of me and of the mistakes I’d made, but I knew they would love Stu and give him all the things I couldn’t, so instead of facing them, I made sure Stu found his way into trusted hands, and then I ran.
I was ready to face them now, so I hung the second pair of sunglasses I’d bought in the past week from the neck of my T-shirt.
The sun had slipped behind heavy rain clouds that cast dark, moving shadows over the land, like silent trolls emerging from their Hell caves.
Thunder rumbled far in the distance, and I pictured the ugly ogre that used to inhabit this farm and his big footsteps shaking the leaves off the trees.
But that was make-believe. There were no trolls, no ogre. He was dead, but it surprised me how many times I had to remind myself of that, and it surprised me how, now that I’d come home with a clear mind, stories filled my head again, characters and settings blooming to life easily.
Chuckling, I remembered Nesty laughing at my stories late one night in rehab while we ate hard candies in our bunks, making shit up and trying to do anything we could to distract ourselves from detox.
I’d told tales that night of ogres and princesses, of mysterious circus ringmasters and a band of brothers who traveled the West, saving little kids from evil.
Nesty ribbed me, told me I was nuts, but whenever he had a bad day or a hard therapy session, he’d beg me to tell my stories.
A fine line existed between make-believe and reality, and trying not to fall on my ass while I walked that line like a tightrope was hard as shit, but it was the thing I needed to master if I wanted to stay sober.
Zephyr and Tilly came bounding in my direction from the northwest field, and my brothers and another guy followed slowly on their horses. When they came closer, I realized the other guy was Rye Graves, Bax’s best friend since they were ten years old.