Going Home - Chapter 8

I called Rosita, who was at the hospital in under ten minutes, which was a lot faster than I’d been expecting. Charleston was a decent-sized city and the hospital wasn’t near a lot, so I’d have expected she would have driven further into the city to do her exploring.

“How was it?” She asked when I got into the car.

“Good. He says I can lose the crutches in a few days and switch to a cane, and I should be able to get rid of that and be back to normal in a month or two, as long as I do my physical therapy.”

“That’s great news. The first time Tommy was injured, they had to really push him to do his physical therapy and for a little bit it almost looked like he was going to get medically discharged, because he wasn’t doing it and it was going to keep him from recovering enough to meet the standards. He hated doing them, so I’m really impressed you’ve been able to keep up with it.”

“Actually … I haven’t. Except for the walks around town, I haven’t done them at all. The doctor said pretty much the same thing about what would happen if I didn’t do them. It’s good to know I’m not the only one really bad at forcing myself to do it though.”

She gave me a side glance that looked frighteningly similar to something my mother would have done before turning her attention back to the road and saying, “Henry, you have to take care of yourself. A little bit of pain now will save you a ton of problems in the future. You don’t want to have to rely on others to help you when you’re older just because you messed up, now. ”

“Wow, you’re good at the guilt trip. “

“I got a lot of practice with Tommy. He was really stubborn about doing stuff he knew he needed to do but didn’t want to do. Besides, I’m Latina. It’s practically genetic. You should hear my mother. Dios mio, she could make us feel like we betrayed Christ for twenty pieces of silver when we didn’t clean the table after supper.”

“Well, consider your message received. I’m going to start doing them every day. I don’t want to be on crutches or have to use a cane the rest of my life. It’ll be nice to get back to normal.”

“Good. If you forget, I will taunt you a second time.”

She had an amused look on her face and my confused look made her burst out in laughter.

“Never mind. I found a place not far from here I want to try out for lunch. Were you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

The place turned out to be a BBQ joint that had just enough of a hole in the wall kind of look to suggest it might be good without looking so run down that I thought we’d get mugged on the way in. I’d always found with BBQ, the more shabby it looked on the outside, the better the BBQ was on the inside.

The whole place smelled like mesquite and made my mouth water as soon as we went inside and the tables were basically picnic tables with the benches removed and chairs put in their place. They had a roll of paper towels on the table along with a plastic bottle of BBQ sauce, which was another good sign.

We took a seat and I was just starting to look at the menu with our waitress came over, and surprisingly called my name.

“Henry Brewer?” she said, looking hard at me.

The waitress was pregnant. Extremely pregnant, actually, to the point where it seemed ill-advised that she was actually walking around waiting on tables. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I knew her from. I stared at her face, drawing a complete blank.

“Tiffany Clark,” she said, pointing at herself when it became obvious I didn’t remember her.

“Ohh my God, Tiffany. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t recognize you.”

“Don’t worry about it. My mom says my face looks so different since I started putting on weight for the pregnancy.”

“You’re living in Charleston now?”

“Yeah. I got married to Bud Newsom the year we graduated and he got a job out here. You remember Bud?”

One of the things about living in a small town was that it was hard to not know everyone in your school, even the people you didn’t associate with. There were only thirty kids in my graduating class, and Tiffany and Bud were two of them. Bud had been in the marching band and I don’t think I spoke to him once in four years of school. Tiffany was a cheerleader and it had seemed odd, at the time, that she ended up with someone like Bud. Or maybe I’d just wanted it to seem odd, since I’d taken her to homecoming my freshman year before Tina and I had gotten together, and when things didn’t work out between us, Bud was the guy she dated next. There’s a good chance my ego didn’t like the fact that she moved on from me that quickly, especially with someone I’d thought, at the time, was beneath me. Considering how I’d basically ignored her for the rest of high school because I couldn’t handle rejection, it was surprising she was even willing to talk to me now.

Just another reminder of a misspent youth.

“Yeah. So, you two got married and moved out here?”

“Other way around, but yep. Bud’s uncle is an electrician and has a small company out here. He’d offered to take Bud in and apprentice him. Bud just got his own license last year and there’s even talk that his uncle might make him a partner in the business.”

“That’s really exciting,” I said, and meant it.

Tiffany was a good person and I was happy that things had worked out for her.

“Well, not as exciting as you going off to play football. I heard you even got into the NFL.”

“I did, but only for a year. Got injured.”

“Ohh. I’m sorry to hear about that. You were always amazing to watch. So did you and Terri stay together after school?”

I don’t remember Terri and her being friends, but they’d both been cheerleaders, so it wasn’t surprising she remembered Terri.

“Kind of. We got married just after college, but it didn’t work out. We’ll be officially divorced in the next couple of weeks, I think.”

“I see. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Tiffany. Henry and I went to school together,” she said, changing the subject and sticking her hand out to Rosita.

“Rosita,” she said, taking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. How far along are you?”

“Eight months and a bit.”

“My gosh, and you’re still working? You must be so tired.”

“I am, but we need everything we can get before the baby comes. Bud makes good money, but this’ll be our second one, and kids are danged expensive.”

“Two?” I said, surprised.

I wasn’t even thirty yet, and I felt years off from even thinking about kids, if I were still married. Terri and I had never discussed them, although I sort of got the opinion that we would have had some eventually.

“Yeah. Bud Jr. is four and he’s just amazing. We talked about it and we wanted at least one more, but we didn’t want too much of a gap between them. We decided that we’d go for another one when Bud got his license and well … here we are.”

“You’re working, eight months pregnant, and have a four-year-old at home,” Rosita said, sounding astonished. “You are a machine.”

“Ha, I wish. If I was a machine I think my feet would hurt a little less.”

“I just mean I’m amazed with how much you must do every day.”

“I know, I was just teasing. Yeah, it’s a lot and, don’t get me wrong. There are days I just wish I could be eighteen again not having bills to worry about and two boys to clean up after, but then I look at Bud Jr. when he goes to sleep and … it’s just all worth it. Anyway, I’ve been babbling on; let me get your order.”

We gave her our order and Tiffany was about to walk away from the table when she stopped and turned back and said, “I’m sorry if I sounded weird a minute ago when I asked about Terri. I really am sorry to hear you two split up. You two were the ‘it’ couple back in school, so I know that must hurt.”

“Thanks, but it’s okay. Things had been bad for a while. She was unhappy for a while, so it’s better off this way.”

“I hope I’m not out of line saying it, but I think you’re probably better off. I don’t think Terri ever really appreciated you. I think she saw you as a meal ticket, and you deserve someone better than that.”

“Ohh,” I said, surprised and unsure how to respond.

Rosita clearly didn’t have that problem, “A meal ticket?”

She said it in a way like she didn’t understand the phrase, but I’d used that exact wording before, and she hadn’t been confused. Maybe it was the cultural differences, her accent, or the way she occasionally put religious undertones into something, but I’d somehow formed this image in my head of Rosita being a little bit on the innocent side. The way she manipulated Tiffany, who took the question exactly as I thought Rosita had wanted her to, made me suddenly consider how much cleverer Rosita was than I thought.

“I just mean she looked at Henry as a way to get out of Buxton and off to being rich and famous. The day after our homecoming dance, she cornered me in the locker room and told me that I needed to back away from him. She said she had plans for him and I needed to stay out of the way. After they started dating, she’d occasionally make comments, never to me but when I was around, that made me think she didn’t really care that much about Henry. Little jokes about him, that kind of thing.”

“She did?” I asked.

While it matched completely with the Terri I know, I hadn’t ever heard this story.

“Yeah. You seemed happy and Terri had the ability to make my life hell, so I just stayed out of it. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. I was an idiot back then and probably wouldn’t have listened. We’ve all got to learn things the hard way sometimes.”

“True enough. Besides, you two are cute together, so it all worked out. Anyway, I better go put your order in.”

She walked away and I kind of awkwardly looked at Rosita and said, “Sorry, I should have told her we’re friends and aren’t together.”

“It’s okay. Besides, I think she knows. A woman can tell a lot from body language. She was just trying to nudge things along a bit, to help you out. I think you would say ‘being a wing woman’ for you.”

“Really? Then what did our body language tell her?”

“That we have chemistry together and like each other, but we’re still in that ‘getting to know you’ phase.”

“I see,” I said, playing it cool.

Inside, I was doing a little dance. I really liked Rosita and had no clue that she felt the same. Maybe my dating sense was stunted by basically being with one woman for my entire life, so it was good to hear confirmation that she liked me too and that we were in any kind of phase at all.

The rest of our short trip was really pleasant. Suddenly knowing that Rosita was into me made me feel comfortable enough to flirt with her and, now that I was watching for signs, she was flirting back with me.

It was a really great day.

When I got home, I almost ran over Mom when I walked through the front door, since I hadn’t expected her to be just behind it looking out the window.

“She didn’t want to stay for supper?” Mom asked, looking past me out the screen door.

“She has to go close up the restaurant and it’s been a really long day. Don’t worry, she’ll probably be back by again.”

“Really?” Mom asked, sounding super hopeful. “So, you two had a good time.”

“Yes. Except for the doctor trying to poke holes in my leg, it was a really good day. Ohh, we ran into Tiffany Clark.”

“I’d heard she’d moved to Charleston.”

That did not surprise me. Mom was connected to the old-ladies network and knew pretty much everything about everyone in town, which is probably why she found Rosita so interesting, since she had only lived here a few years which meant Mom didn’t have a whole file on her yet.

“She got married to Bud Newsom and they’re about to have their second child.”

“Yes, I know. Her mother loves to hold her grandchildren over my head.”

I rolled my eyes but otherwise ignored the hint as I put one crutch in the hall closet. It would be nice to not have to use both anymore, but until I bought a cane, I’d still have to use one.

“Evan Farmer called,” Mom said, sounding suddenly less enthused.

“Yeah?” I said, leaning on my remaining crutch and turning to face her.

“He wanted to invite you to a cookout on Saturday.”

“Okay,” I said.

I’d run into Evan twice more and he was chatty every time, but the more we talked the more I realized we didn’t have a lot in common anymore. Back in the day, we’d practically been the same person, but I guess never leaving town stunted his growth, since he was the same guy I remember from my youth. A lot of things over the last few months being back home had shown me how much I’d changed, but nothing like conversations with Evan. I’d thought he’d picked up on that too, but apparently not, since he was calling to invite me to a cookout.

“I don’t think you should be palling around with that boy. He was always a bad influence.”

“If anything, I was the bad influence on him.”

“Maybe, but you’ve matured quite a bit. You should spend time with that girl of yours instead of falling back in with your old friends.”

“First off, she’s not my girl. We’re friends and getting to know each other. And yeah, Evan is a little rough, but it’d be nice to have something to do other than wandering town aimlessly waiting for my life to start again.”

Mom pursed her lips and clearly had more to add, but contained herself, simply saying, “I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t steal any cars or burn anything down.”

That got me a glare. I probably shouldn’t have brought up the time I burned down three acres of forest after a prank gone wrong. It had been a big source of fights before I moved away for college, since it was probably the closest I’d ever gotten to actually getting charged with a crime by Sheriff Thompson. Only the fact that it had been an honest accident, and Coach’s pull, had kept me out of real trouble. I looked back on it with mild amusement and just a little embarrassment, but clearly, Mom didn’t share the feeling.

Saturday I showed up at Evan’s trailer with Mom’s cornbread that I practically had to beg her to make. Mom didn’t like Evan, but everyone knew you couldn’t show up to a cookout empty-handed and I was a famously terrible cook. Thankfully, the thought of embarrassment at her son breaking one of the cardinal southern taboos was enough to convince her to look past her dislike.

Evan lived in a small trailer just outside of town on a piece of property his dad owned. The couple of times we’d talked over the last few months, I’d gotten the impression that he was planning on building a house on it eventually, but seeing it in person, it was clear that was just a ‘maybe someday’ kind of thing, since he hadn’t even cleared out enough trees and stumps to put down anything bigger than his trailer, let alone actually done work on anything.

“Brewer,” Evan said when I pulled up in Mom’s truck and got out. “Glad you could make it man.”

He was in the front yard leaning on a railing with three other guys. One I recognized as having been on the football team with us, although he’d been a year younger and I couldn’t remember his name for the life of me. The other guy I was pretty sure I’d never met.

“Ohh, you got your mom to make cornbread. Sweet. You guys are in luck. His mom makes awesome cornbread. You remember Sam, right?” Evan said, gesturing towards the guy I kind of recognized.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said, sticking my hand out.

“Hey,” Sam said, although the look he gave me was questionable, like I was an interloper, which I guess I was.

“This is Jason Preswick. He’s from Ohio of all fucking places, where he worked for Dixon until that mine dried out, so he moved out here.”

“Good to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand.

They had clearly been in the middle of a conversation when I showed up, because after handing me a beer they jumped back into it. All three worked at the mine, so it wasn’t surprising their conversation was all about work. I sat in one of the folding camp chairs they had scattered in the front yard while Evan pushed some meat grill and complained about this or that guy who wasn’t pulling his weight.

As topics of conversation go, this was old hat and I mostly tuned it out since I didn’t recognize the names of any of the guys involved. When I was younger, Dad would have a very similar get-together with guys from work and they’d have very similar conversations. There was always someone the rest of the crew thought wasn’t pulling their weight or was getting some kind of easy duty, and they loved to complain about it. Of course, every single one of them would like the same kind of assignments if they could get it.

Even though Evan and I had been friends throughout high school and I knew several of the people who showed up over the next hour, I felt out of place most of the time. I wasn’t a miner and I wasn’t one of their drinking buddies, so after introducing myself or saying hello to the people I already knew, I didn’t really have much to say to anyone.

The only interesting piece of conversation happened when they started talking about some expansion project most of the guys here were working on. Dad had said Evan was one of Dixon’s handymen, but it became evident pretty quickly that was really what the rest of the guys had in common when the conversation shifted to expansion.

“… I don’t care what they want. They’ll sell eventually,” Evan was saying, his voice getting loud enough to draw my attention from slowly nursing the beer he’d given me.

“You know the sheriff has already said we can’t go out there again,” a guy whose name left my brain the second he told it to me said. “The bosses don’t want us rocking the boat publically, so that kind of screws us.”

“Orville’s an idiot,” Evan said. “He already had a deputy quit so it’s just him and Al, and even if the Taylor’s complain, it’s not like they have cameras everywhere. If their feed gets contaminated, they won’t know it’s us and Orville’s got too much of a stick up his butt to do anything about it.”

Sam tapped Evan on the shoulder and nodded my way, clearly warning him that there was an interloper around and he should watch what he was saying.

“Ahh, Henry’s cool. His pops has worked for Dixon forever and besides, he’s out of here in a few months, off to be a coach somewhere, right Henry.”

“Evan, man, I don’t think …” I started to say.

Even if I hadn’t been a cop, hearing the way they talked would have annoyed me. Either Evan was oblivious or he’d seriously drunk the corporate Kool-Aid because this was the exact kind of thing that my dad railed against anytime anyone brought up the company. I’d been planning on gently disagreeing, maybe finding an excuse to leave, since there wasn’t anything I could do about it besides getting into an argument, followed by a fight. I might have gone and said something to Orville, but I wasn’t a cop and there wasn’t really anything I could do about that.

His friends, however, didn’t seem like they wanted to even give me that opportunity.

“I’ve seen him down with the Mexican chick that kicked the lady that owned the coffee shop out of her own business,” Sam said. “I told you not to invite him. I don’t care how tight you two were in high school, he’s not one of us.”

“She’s Puerto Rican,” I said, unable to stop myself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Evan, I appreciate you inviting me out, but I’m gonna go,” I said, getting up from the chair and setting my mostly empty beer bottle on the top of a cooler before limping off towards the truck.

I was most of the way there before Sam came around me, getting between me and the truck. I stopped and took a quick glance around. A few of the guys had edged towards us, like they were preparing to back Sam up, while the rest were hanging back, looking between Evan and us, trying to gauge which way the wind was going to blow. Sam might be hostile, but he wasn’t in charge, which would work in my favor. Even in my best condition, I couldn’t deal with this many guys, and out here people tended to take matters into their own hands, which meant I needed to keep my cool and hope Evan didn’t feel the same as his friend.

“Look, I just came out to visit an old friend. I’m not looking for any trouble.”

“You were looking for trouble when you started moving in on that spic girlfriend of yours. When she …”

“Sam,” Evan said, in a warning tone.

He might have gotten Sam to shut up, but he hadn’t come to get between us or told Sam to back off yet either. I might not have remembered Sam’s name, but I did remember him being a little toady, always wanting to have someone bigger to follow around so he could feel tough.

I edged closer to him and said, “I don’t want any trouble, but if you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to feed you your teeth.”

“Look around. You’re outnumbered.”

“Sure, they’ll kick my ass, but not before I make sure you eat through a straw for the rest of your life.”

I gave him the same look I’d give to the lineman across the scrimmage line who was mugging me pre-snap, trying to psych me out. I’d always found a stone face showing no expression except in the eyes was more intimidating than trying to put on some kind of over-exaggerated mean face.

Sam, however, didn’t know when to shut up, and took a step toward me, clearly afraid of losing face.

I was just bracing for whatever he was going to do when Evan got between us and said, “Guys, knock it off. Sam, get out of his way.”

Sam glowered at me but backed off.

“Sorry to spoil the atmosphere,” I said to Evan, trying to give him a friendly smile, despite the disgust I was feeling in my gut.

“Hey, no problem, man. You know how miners get.”

“Yeah, my dad always had a temper too. I’ll see you around,” I said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder and limping my way on my one crutch to the truck.

He gave a wave and went to put his arm around Sam, walking him back towards the grill as I started up the truck and backed out.

I’d like to say I was surprised that Evan had turned out to be an asshole doing the company’s dirty work, but I wasn’t. That’s really who Evan always was.