Rumble (39 page)

to say where it should rightly go

when I die. She’s listed as beneficiary

on my pitiful life insurance, but that

wouldn’t take her very far. I got

the chance to make it right, and

by God, I’m gonna do exactly that,

just as soon as I get out of this place.

He goes quiet, except for pulling

breath, and I think he’s fallen

asleep. But when I start to get up,

he puts out a hand.
Something

else. I really thought I was checking

on out of this world. After regretting

came a big rush of fear. I was soul-

deep scared that the crazy pain

in my chest was all I was getting

before everything went black.

The end. Finis. Nothing more.

I yelled, “Help!” and I know

those people working on me thought

I was talking to them, but I wasn’t,

you know? I was calling out to

the universe and all of a sudden . . .

I don’t know how else to say it,

but I wasn’t scared anymore.

And I have no idea what that means,

only if there is something after this

lifetime, I want to learn what it is.

All That Talking

Combined with his morphine drip

has wiped him out. He slips down

into a sea of sleep, much too deep

for dreams to find him. I’ve never

considered what it’s like to come

face-to-face with death. Would I

be “soul-deep scared” of everything

going black? Does it happen all at

once, or does the light fade slowly—

gray, grayer, pewter, coal, obsidian?

If I had that time, would I recycle

regrets? I haven’t lived very long,

relatively speaking, but I’ve managed

to collect quite a few. Do small regrets

flicker, huge ones flash, or are they

more like weights, stacked one by one

until they crush you into oblivion?

Would my very last flashback

be Hayden and me getting hot on

a blanket, segue to a funeral

on a sweltering summer day?

It’s just not fucking fair that Uncle

Jessie has the chance to make good

his biggest regret, but I never can.

The Whisper of a Skirt

Tells me Quin has returned.

I stand to give her the chair

by the bed. Not a whole

lot for me to do here. I almost

wish I’d gone to school after all.

“Dad wants me to let Gram

and Gramps have my bedroom,

so if it’s okay, I’ll stay with you

over the weekend. That way

I can mind the range if you want.”

At least I’ll have something to do

besides sitting here thinking

about stuff I’d rather not consider.

Sounds good. I’ll probably

hang around here until

they kick me out. Take the keys.

And you’ll feed the dogs for me?

“It’s the least I can do in return

for the room and board. I’ll stop

by the house for some clean

clothes. Let me know if you need

anything while I’m still in town.”

I start to leave, but she stops me.

Hold on just a minute. I know

you’re pissed at your father

and his girlfriend, but I hope

you can find a way to reconcile

your relationship with them.

That old saying “life is too short”

has taken on new meaning.

I think we all need to allow

ourselves some healing now.

“I wish I could, Quin,

but I’m not really sure how.

I promise to work on it, though.”

I give her a hint of a hug.

“You’re okay driving

yourself home, right?”

Of course. I think the drama

has subsided, at least for now.

Leave the lights on, but

don’t wait up for me. Not sure

what time I’ll get there.

There’s Nobody Home

When I get there, and that’s all

good with me. I straighten my room,

strip the sheets from the bed, empty

my clothes hamper, and take the dirties

to the laundry room. No use grossing

out the grandparents with the smell

of used underwear and socks, and

anyway, I haven’t stroked my OCD

tendencies in a while. I prefer neat

to train wreck. I go ahead and clean

up, and, man, does it feel great to brush

my teeth, something I haven’t done since

yesterday. I’ll take my toothbrush with

me, along with two changes of clothes.

It strikes me that sometimes the little

things can mean a whole lot. Maybe if

I focus on those for a while the big stuff

will rectify itself. Okay, maybe not, but

it’s better than stressing over crap

beyond my ability to change. I grab

my cell phone charger and laptop, too.

I might need some entertainment

if things happen to be slow. On my way

out of town, I stop by the grocery store,

grab a frozen pizza, some lunch meat,

and bread. Self-sufficient, that’s what I am,

not to mention suddenly ravenous.

I happen to arrive at the range just

behind a UPS truck, which pulls right up

to the office door. The driver waits

for me to meet him and sign for the long

narrow package. There’s a rifle inside,

that much is obvious. Turns out it’s Gus’s

old gun—Fiona!—returned from the smith,

almost as good as new. He’ll be one happy

camper when he sees it again, that much

I know. I lock it in the rifle cabinet,

close up the office, and head to the house

to feed my aching belly. While the pizza

bakes, I call Alexa, who’s already home

from school. The sound of her voice stirs

something inside. I really want to see her.

We Talk

Until the pizza browns, while

it cools, while I wolf it down.

I tell her Uncle Jessie should

pull through fine, about

the likely upcoming wedding.

“You’re invited, of course.”

You’d better be careful. Weddings

tend to bring out the romance

in people. Then again, I’d kind

of like to see you romantic.

Good thing she can’t see me

blushing. “What do you mean?

I am the most romantic guy

I know. You just wait.

I’ll show you romantic.”

She laughs that deep, husky

laugh of hers.
Awesome. It’s a date.

Hey. I’ve got some news for you.

The school board voted to retain

Perks.
Mr. DeLucca is livid and

vowed to reopen the challenge

when he’s elected. Dictator.

We extend the conversation

for almost an hour, talking about

everything from books to our families

to guns to politics—most of which

we happen to agree on, thankfully.

I really don’t want to argue with her,

or anyone, and she makes that easy.

The few things we don’t see eye

to eye on matter hardly at all.

Eventually, she gets called

to dinner, and I’m sorry we have

to sign off. “Unless Uncle Jessie

happens to take a turn for the worse,

I’ll be out here all day tomorrow.

Come out, I’ll let you touch my weapon.”

More lovely laughter.
Excellent.

Practice makes perfect, I hear.

Hey, Matt? I love you.

As soon as I hear the click,

I say, “Hey, Alexa? I love you, too.”

Because I realize I do.

In True OCD Fashion

I clean up the kitchen.

Quin should be very pleased.

Then I fill the dog bowls.

Where are those mutts, anyway?

They’re usually waiting

on the step come dinnertime.

But when I open the door

to call them, I hear furious

barking in the distance.

I step out into the yard to try

and tune in to their location.

I think they’re down by the office.

There’s a thin, sharp
crack
.

Gunshot? No doubt. I start

toward the truck. Change my mind,

go inside, grab my phone, dial 9-1-1.

Then I head downhill on foot.

When the parking area comes

into view, I recognize the car.

It belongs to Gus. Neither he

nor the dogs are anywhere in sight,

but when I circle to the front

of the building, I can see

he’s broken his way inside.

An Intelligent Person

Would stay put.

Wait for the cops.

But like an idiot,

I push through the door.

The lights are on—did he stop

to turn them on or did I leave

them on before? “Gus?

That you? What are you

doing here? We’re closed.”

Don’t want to startle the fool,

who’s rummaging around

in the gun locker room.

’Course it’s me, asshole.

But don’t you fucking

come back here! I mean

it! I’m gonna do this.

But first I want Fiona.

She’s mine, goddamn it.

Come ’ere, you bitch!

He’s totally out of his mind

wasted. Uncle Jessie could talk

him down. Not sure I can.

But for some odd reason,

I think I should try.

“Hey, Gus. If you chill,

I’ll open the rifle cabinet for you.

I’ve got the key right here.”

He stops his thrashing,

and the sudden silence is eerie.

All right then. ’S only fair.

’S my grandpa’s gun an’ I want

her. That damn Jessie thinks

he can keep Fiona, I’ll kill him.

Where is that fucker, anyway?

I make my way cautiously

to the locker room door.

“I’m coming in, okay?

Uncle Jessie’s in the hospital.

He had a heart attack.”

Gus, whose attention

has been directed toward

the rifle cabinet, turns

to face me. They say certain

sights make your blood run

cold. Mine freezes solid.

I force my voice steady.

“What are you doing, Gus?”

He’s Wearing a Vest

And strapped to it are what

appear to be explosives. On his hip

is a holstered gun. He smiles,

his eyes fill with crazy, and

suddenly I can’t breathe.

Hey, Junior. Didn’ you know

I’m a dee-mo-lition expert?

Goddamn army taught me a thing

or two. Goin’ blow this place

to kingdom come, and I’m goin’

along for the ride. Ain’t nothing

left to hang on for anymore.

Think, think, think. Where are

those damn cops? “Take it easy,

okay? Why this place, Gus?

I thought you liked it out here.”

I thought I did, too. Thought I liked

that sonofabitch Jessie. Then he went

and sold me out to that lawyer.

Bastard took all my money. Every

red cent. Then he tells me he don’

think he can help me. That whore’s

gonna take away my kids forever.

Just talking about it starts him

twitching. He lifts up and down

on his toes, his hand moves

toward his pocket, and one word

comes to mind. Trigger.

Inhale. Exhale. Palms up, palms

down won’t help me now.

“Come on, Gus. There are other

lawyers. If it’s money, maybe