Comin' Home to You (21 page)

Owen slowly walked to the door, his gun aimed directly at it. Creeping closer to it, a recognizable sneeze made Owen’s entire body relax instantaneously. Remaining cautious, he opened the door, finding that his trust was well-placed. Standing before him was Ali, holding a bottle of water with beads of sweat profusely dripping from her forehead. Austin, rubbing his nose from the sneeze, didn’t seem to have the same sweat problem as his mother. The father and daughter awkwardly stared at each other, while Austin invited himself in.

“Come on in, Ali.”

Ali lightly bowed her head, taking a swig from her water as she crossed the boundary between outdoors and indoors.

After taking another peek outside and locking the door, Owen went to the kitchen to get a damp washrag for his daughter. She thanked him as she dabbed it on her forehead and the back of her neck. The television in the living room was turned on, and Austin could be heard asking himself what he should watch. Staring at his grandson from around the kitchen corner, it filled Owen's heart with joy watching Austin still act like a credulous kid in this situation. Austin had seen more than he could probably grasp in his little mind, yet he didn't show an ounce of pain or suffering. Owen’s heart descended into sadness. A kid should never see or experience physical pain or torture. He shook his head as darkness started to set into the kitchen. He thought about turning the light on, but the dark setting fit the mood.

Owen cleared his throat and took a seat at the kitchen table. “What are you doing here?”

Ali’s eyes widened as she examined what lay on the kitchen table. “You think you got enough guns and ammo here?”

“Honestly, no. I’d like more.”

She forced a surprised look. “I wonder why.”

“Really, why are you here? Was Clint threatening you or something?”

“Clint always threatens me. I’m used to that shit.”

“Nothing happened to you, right? After Ben got me?”

“Oh, I’m sure Clint wanted to beat me senseless, but he wasn’t about to do that with Scar around.”

“I guess that’s some sort of a relief. What happened after?”

“Well, first thing he did was throw a brick through your windshield.”

“Son of a…” Owen trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Ali placed the rag on the table. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Better my truck than you or the boy.”

His daughter nodded, picking up and examining a shotgun shell, brushing the ridges of the red shell with her thumb.

“So what happened after that?”

“Clint and Scar got into it. But they didn’t really do anything. Eventually, Clint drove off and so did Scar. We were left alone and I didn’t really want to be alone. So we walked here.”

“Did you go through the woods? That’s a two mile hike. Are you guys thirsty or hungry?”

“I just felt like walking. Kind of a weird want to do something I really don’t like doing. But I did. I have water. I’m fine. Austin was saying that he was hungry on the way.”

Owen turned his head to his grandson in the living room. “Hey bud, you want something to eat?”

Austin's eyes met his. They didn’t have the same bright light they normally did. After everything that he witnessed today, it made sense why he would be down. That thought almost made Owen choke up.

“Um...I am a little hungry, I guess,” softly spoke Austin.

“How about a sandwich? I got some turkey and some cheese.”

Austin nodded his head and turned back toward the television.

“You got it, bud. You want mustard or mayo?”

“I got it, Dad,” stated Ali, getting up from the table. “Mustard, right honey?”

“Yeah, lots of mustard.”

“Okay, honey.”

“Stop calling me honey, mom. It’s embarrassing.”

With a pleased smile on her face, Ali walked to the refrigerator and prepared all of the ingredients to make Austin a sandwich, Owen took a seat back at the table, watching his daughter place the turkey and cheese on a slice of bread. He supported his head with his palm, his elbow planted on the table. As Ali liberally squirted a large amount of mustard on the exposed Kraft cheddar cheese single, a hidden smile came over his face. Even though Ali hated him most of the time growing up, he still remembered her preferences. She always asked for both ham and turkey, Swiss cheese, and a bunch of Miracle Whip on her sandwich. If it didn’t drip from the side and onto the plate after every bite, it was too little. She was a picky girl. Fickle and full of spite, but that picky side was a quirk he loved. Owen was a ketchup guy himself. But Austin loved mustard. He dipped his fries in it. He even remembered a few years back when he dipped an apple slice in it and actually seemed to enjoy the taste. Watching simple things like Austin loving mustard or his daughter making a sandwich for her son filled him with warmth and solace. These were the thoughts that he wanted to be his last.

Ali bent over and kissed Austin on the forehead when handing him his sandwich on a paper plate in the living room. He immediately took a large bite of the sandwich, showing his pleasure with a big messy smirk. He was watching some cartoons that had some adult language, but Owen didn’t feel like reprimanding him about it. As much bad language and adult situations the boy had seen in his life, mature cartoons probably had little effect on him. Although he wished Austin’s childhood was comparable to a normal child’s, the best he could do was to get his youthful life on the right track. For that, he would have to stay alive long enough to remove someone from Austin’s existence. It was a sullen and glum way of looking at things and one that might cause him contrite feelings, but it would have to be done. Owen's track record as a parent may have its share of demerits, but he guaranteed that other normal families haven't gone through half the shit that his family has.

As she entered the kitchen, Ali removed the shotgun from the table and leaned it against a wall. “You wanna get me a drink, Dad?”

“Get yourself a glass. I'll pour you a shot.”

After grabbing a shot glass from the cabinet, Ali took a seat and allowed her father to pour whiskey to the brim.

“You sure you need this?” asked Owen.

“More than ever.”

“I mean, do you need it combined with all the other shit you are on?”

“I’m not on any other shit right now. Not since Saturday night.”

“Meth again?”

Ali muttered something unintelligible.

“I wish you'd be off that stuff for good.”

Ali threw the whiskey back without any wasted motions. Owen mimicked her motions by pouring the contents of his glass down his gullet. The similarities between father and daughter were prevalent. She looked and acted like her mother, but there were the small details, like how she drank, that likened the two of them. It gave him an odd sense of cheerfulness. It was one of those feelings where he felt warm inside. But then again, whiskey has that effect on the human body.

“How'd you get off it?” asked Ali.

“What?” The question caught Owen off guard.

Ali leaned in closer so she could speak quieter. “What did you do to get clean?”

“Technically, I ain’t clean. I still drink, see?”

“You know what I mean. Gettin' off the dope and shit. What did you do?”

“You’re trying to get clean, really?”

“Been tryin’ since the year started. Wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. But, this time I’m determined. Haven’t touched it since I woke up. So, tell me. What did you do, Dad?”

Owen sighed deeply and gave his daughter a stare that showed both regret and determination. “I kicked the habit once I saw things clearly. Once I saw how we weren’t being parents to you and realizing how stupid I was being, I just had to stop. I didn’t want us to lose our livelihood over it.”

“But you did anyway,” retorted Ali, with a hint of sadness. It was getting so dark that the only light came from the illuminating television in the living room, but Owen could see that expression on her face clearly.

“We did things. Bad things. All in the name of creating a better life for us...and you. That nice house we lived in when you were little? It was bought on drug money. Before that, we just had a small two-bedroom apartment. God, that place was horrible. Roaches, worms, our window units kept messing up. It froze up once in the summer, wouldn’t blow out any cold air. We had about five box fans just blowing on us. Still didn’t help. We didn’t want that life. So we were stupid and took the easy way out to make a buck. I never wanted to be hooked on that shit either. But, things happen when you get greedy.”

Ali refilled her shot glass, but lightly sipped on the contents. “How'd you even get started down that road?”

“I came home from a day of work and smelled pot in the place. Your mom was smoking in the bathroom. We had ground rules back then. Anything besides alcohol could not be done in the house. But it’s not like we were drug fiends back then. We were kids who loved to smoke some weed from time to time. We just agreed that it shouldn’t be in the house.”

Ali started positioning the shotgun shells upright on the table, but he could tell she was still listening intently.

“Anyway, I open the bathroom door and I see her on the toilet, smoking a joint like her life depended on it. There was a pile of cash at her feet. I remember the exact amount too. $304 of crumpled up bills. She told me that she could make more than that if she started selling it. I remember how conflicted I was, but I went with it.”

“You didn't tell her no?”

“I wanted to, Ali. I did so badly. But, I was barely making enough for you and your mom. Seeing that money lying there on our dirty ass bathroom floor...it made me want more. I didn’t want to live in that crap shack of an apartment. I didn’t want you to grow up in poverty either. Basically, that's how we went down that road. Patricia upgraded in product over time, and eventually, we started testing out our products. And of course, we got hooked. Your mother started doing some bad things for an extra dollar that I fucking stupidly consented to. And...yeah. Shit just rolled downhill.”

“So, about what I saw...with Mommy.”

“It's not something I want to get into, Ali.”

“You’ve already told me a lot, and you’re gonna stop there?”

Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand and letting it rub upwards toward his itchy scalp, Owen bit the inside of his lip with his canine. He was too nervous to give Ali any details. “We argued and had a difference of opinion.”

“What do you mean?”

“After an incident with a supplier, well…let’s just say I was tired of it all.”

“Still not making any sense.”

Owen sighed. “I wanted out. She got pissed off at some things. Whenever she got pissed off, she’d go on a binge. She ran into the house. Then I went to find you. You were at your friend’s house. Hell, I should have just left you there. You could have avoided seeing her.”

“But why would she just do that? Was she trying to get high or was she actually trying to kill…her…” Ali’s words paused. She was on the edge of breaking down.

“I don’t know. She had a lot on her mind, but I doubt she was trying to do that. I just…don’t know.”

Besides the noises coming from the television, only silenced reigned in the kitchen, as the father and daughter stared at their drinks. Ali wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Talking about her mother, even in good circumstances, always brought her to tears. Owen had remained upset through all these years, but he realized that Ali’s level of sadness far exceeded his. Not every eight year old gets to walk in to see their mother dead on the ground. She was always a momma’s girl, and that hadn’t changed at all over the years.

Ali picked up the shot glass by the base, rotating it with her fingertips and examining the details of the glass.  “There has to be more to that. What were you arguing about? Why would she even be like that in the first place?”

“We were addicted. We did dumb things.”

“Like what? I want answers.”

“I don’t want to tell you this.”

Ali threw her arms up in frustration. “Tell me. Shit, dad. You can’t keep me in the dark. Not now.”

For almost 15 years, Owen had went with the vague excuse to her that ‘daddy and mommy were arguing.’ But Ali was an adult. Perhaps this added spice would add the clarity for her to realize the pain he was living in.

“We…we did stupid, horrible things to get our fix. We sold drugs and spent the money we earned buying more drugs for ourselves. We got way too hooked. It ruined our lives.”

“Sold? So you were in the Roaring 20’s?”

“Not exactly. Just selling for someone who was in it.”

“Okay. And…what?”

“This supplier, the one we were selling for, one day, got the balls to ask your mother for a sexual favor in return for an ounce more of this heroin we were selling.”

“So you beat his ass, right?”

Owen stayed completely silent. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, then wiped off any stray saliva on the corners of his lips with the side of his forefinger. “I didn’t. Not the first time. Or the second. Or even the third.”

A shocked look grew on Ali’s face. “You fucking let her!? She didn’t say no?”