When I'm Gone

by Jaxson Kidman

  Sometimes it amazed me that things like that stuck in the back of my memory. My grandfather and his handful of quotes taught me more about life than my father ever did.

  The apartment door opened and Mack stepped in and whistled.

  “Damn, man,” he said. “This looks amazing in here.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s my project,” I said. “And I don’t fuck around.”

  “I can see that. Where did you get the crown molding?”

  “Found it,” I said. “Salvaged it.”

  “You’re really making this place your own,” Mack said. “I mean, damn. You going to be able to do this for the rest of the building?”

  I climbed down the ladder and wiped my brow with my right arm. “Yeah. I can do anything.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said. “You’re a tough guy.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” he said, laughing. “Wasn’t sure if you were here or not.”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “You should be working to make money for yourself,” Mack said. “You’re sort of obsessed with being here, Kace.”

  “So what? It helps you.”

  “What about yourself though?”

  “Why the fuck are you so worried about me?” I asked. “Seriously, man.”

  “You’ve always been against us having a business together,” Mack said. “But look what we’re doing right now. So I was hoping you’d reconsider and we can split everything on this building. See where it ends up.”

  “I actually have a better idea,” I said. “Something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.”

  Mack folded his arms. “I’m listening.”

  I walked toward him and reached out, taking his sunglasses off his face. I gently folded them up and balanced them on his folded arms.

  “There,” I said. “Now you don’t look like such a douchebag.”

  “You’re a real prick sometimes.”

  “That’s why we should never be in business together. It would never work.”

  “So what the hell do you want to talk about? See, I was in a good goddamn mood. I had a date with Eve last night. I left my place this morning and she was still in bed…”

  I looked up. “Eve’s upstairs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “What does?”

  “I thought I heard her groaning?”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. About twenty minutes ago. Groaning. Screaming with pleasure. Yelling at whoever it was that he was bigger and better than you.”

  Mack turned his head and walked away. “Man, you’re a real piece of work.”

  I laughed. “You bought it for a second, huh?”

  “Fuck off, Kace.”

  “I can’t help myself, Mack. I’m happy for you and Eve. And your cock. Glad it’s working fine again. You have to stay away from the whiskey. Makes you limp.”

  “Noted,” Mack said. “Now that you’ve ruined my day, what do you want to talk about?”

  I opened my mouth, but before I could say a word, my phone started to ring again.

  It was the same number.

  “Let me see who the hell this is,” I said.

  “Sure. Take your time. I have nowhere else to be.”

  I threw Mack the middle finger and answered the call.

  The person on the phone, I didn’t recognize. But the situation that was about to fall into my lap was something that I’d dealt with before.

  My father was drunk, and in trouble.

  There was a part of me that wanted to know how the hell he could be so drunk this early in the afternoon. Then again, it was my father. He knew no boundary when it came to drinking. The first sip in the morning was booze and the last sip of goodnight was the same. In fact, he couldn’t function without it. For him to wake up and not slam back a shot of whiskey or vodka would probably throw his body into a state of shock.

  Which also meant that if he was drunk enough to get into a bar fight and have the bartender calling me, he must have been really messed up.

  Of course he was at some dive bar just outside town. The kind of place where you didn’t want to go whether it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning. The kind where a set group of people went there, and that was it.

  I pulled into the parking lot and looked at the building. It was a corner shit hole with a faded wooden sign, the neon lights in the windows calling like moths to a flame. There were two pickup trucks in the parking lot. I didn’t see my father’s beaten up car though.

  “Shit,” I whispered, fearing that he had found a way to take off.

  Him stumbling around town drunk wasn’t anything new, but I knew it was only a matter of time before someone would hit him and kill him. The sad part? I didn’t give a shit about him getting hit and killed. I gave a shit about the person who did it. Imagine being some innocent driver on the way to work or something and a drunk guy stumbles in front of your car and you hit him.

  “Shit,” I said again as I hurried toward the all-black door of the bar.

  When I entered the bar, two guys were sitting at the bar, their hands around glasses of beer, but not drinking. They were rough looking guys, but not quite as rough as the bartender. He was in a dirty white shirt with greasy hair slicked back.

  “You the kid?” he asked.

  “Where is he?”

  “Over there in the corner,” he said.

  I looked and I saw the back of my father’s head.

  I walked toward the table and when I looked at him, I cringed. His right eye was almost completely shut and there was blood all over his mouth.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  He turned his head. “Hey. Kace. My son. Sit down. Let me buy you drink.”

  His lips flapped as though they were numb.

  I took a seat across from him and had this vision of myself as a twelve year old. Seeing him so drunk that he couldn’t open his eyes. Watching him reach for walls that weren’t there, only to collapse to the floor. He’d laugh, mutter words, and eventually piss himself. I always had to be quick when stealing money from his pockets or else there was a chance that the money would get soaked in piss.

  “We need to go,” I said.

  “Not until I get my next drink!” my father yelled.

  The two men at the bar turned around.

  “Easy, guys,” I said. “Looks like you’ve done enough already.”

  “Tell him to keep his mouth shut then,” one said.

  The bartender came from around the bar with a shot glass.

  He slammed it down on the table.

  “This is the last one,” he said to my father. “Then you leave and never come back here. If you do come back, I’m going to wrap a baseball bat around your fucking head.”

  “Jesus, man,” my father said. He reached for the shot glass.

  I stood up, towering over the bartender. “What happened?”

  “He won money on a scratch off lottery ticket. Came in and was bragging about winning the lottery. Bought a couple of drinks and kept drinking. A lot. Fast. I think he was already drunk when he came in. I cut him off and he got nasty with me. He paid me with the lottery ticket, which I was fine with. But he wouldn’t stop talking. So Dougie over there gave him a warning. Then your old man went up to him. Dougie only hit him once, but he fell into the bar and smashed his face. Then he started crying, looking for you. So I offered to call you.”

  “He knew my number?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He kept saying that he loved you. You were the best thing about his life. I don’t know. Just let him finish that drink and get him out of here.”

  “You got it. Thank you for calling.”

  The bartender nodded.

  “Hey, wait,” I said. I reached into my pocket and took out some money. “Here. Buy a round for them. On me.”

  The bartender put his hand to mine. “Save it. I know what this is like.”

/>   “Yeah?”

  “I used to be like that.”

  “Used to, huh?”

  “Yeah. Now I stare at the devil all day long, my mouth dry, and just wish I would fucking die already.”

  The bartender walked away.

  I turned to face my father and watched his wobbling hand put the shot glass to his mouth. He threw it back and slammed the glass to the table.

  “Come on,” I said. I grabbed his arm.

  He quickly swung and punched me in the lower gut.

  I groaned and sucked in a breath.

  “I can fucking walk,” he groaned.

  He wrestled to get to his feet.

  I kept my hands near him but not touching him.

  We made a handful of steps before he looked back, his eyes rolling in his head.

  “And fuck you, man,” he spat. “You pussy. You fucking sucker punched me.”

  “Jesus, Dad,” I said. “Move.”

  The guy - I assumed it was Dougie - stood up and started to walk toward us.

  I pushed my father toward the door where he stumbled into it and let out a yell.

  I faced off with Dougie, eye to eye.

  “I’m going to break his damn jaw,” Dougie said in a low voice.

  “Easy, man. He’s wasted. I’m getting him out of here.”

  “I’ll break your jaw too, boy.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” I said.

  The switch of anger had been flipped. I couldn’t in good faith beat the shit out of my own father. At least not when he was drunk. But looking at this guy… wondering if he was just like my father. Abandoning his family for a drink. Judging and assuming everything about him.

  I stepped back and Dougie made a quick move.

  He grabbed my shirt and I swung my hand, breaking his hold. I swung my right fist and regretted it the second I did. I knocked Dougie - this fucking stranger - right in the face. He fell back and clutched his face. The other guy quickly stood up.

  “Shit,” I said.

  I turned and walked toward the door.

  I opened the door and took hold of the back of my father’s shirt and shoved him out of the bar. When he tried to walk down the single step to the ground, he fucked it up and his legs twisted. He collapsed to the ground in a heap and started to cry.

  There were several versions of my father as a drunk. Functioning. Happy. Angry. And sad.

  “Come on, get up,” I said. “It’s time to go home and sleep.”

  He fought me to stand and fought me the entire way to the truck. I got him in the passenger side and slammed the door. He put his head to the window and kept crying.

  On the ride to the house he groaned and muttered drunk words to himself. Which was good. I could handle that. It was better than him talking to me or grabbing at the steering wheel.

  When we got home, I all but Cassied him inside. The house was trashed. Dishes in the sink that smelled like death. The dining room table covered in beer bottles and stacks of mail. The house reeked of dust and dried piss.

  I took him to the couch and let him fall.

  He caught hold of my hand. “Kace. Son. I want you to listen to me.”

  “Just go to sleep, Dad. Sleep all this off. You’re going to be hurting when you realize what you’ve done.”

  He forced himself to look at me. His right eye was really messed up. I was half wondering if I should take him to the hospital.

  “You… you would have loved her.”

  “Loved who?”

  “Your mother.”

  “What?”

  “I never told you about her. I never talked about her. She kept me going, Kace. I never wanted kids. I knew what I was. And I was greedy for it. But maybe if we had a baby I could stop this stuff. I could fix it all.”

  He started to sit up and waved his hands.

  “Why are you talking about this?” I asked.

  “I saw her eyes. When you were born. The look on her face. What she… she was instantly in love with you, Kace. And then… then it was over. She looked at me and she…”

  “Stop,” I said. “Just shut the fuck up and stop.”

  I yelled. I didn’t mean to yell. My father couldn’t understand yelling. He was incapable of it.

  “I said goodbye and you were all mine,” my father said.

  “And you did nothing for me, you fucking asshole,” I snapped.

  I grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him down to the couch. His head smashed off the arm of the couch and he groaned. A second later, he got sick. All over the floor.

  His lips smacked together like a fish out of water. His words were a jumbled mess from trying to say that he loved me and was proud of me. I ignored him the entire time, gritting my teeth to keep from punching him. I cleaned the floor and got him a bucket. I put out a bottle of water and some pills to dull the pain that would follow when he woke up. And, of course, I put out a bottle of whiskey for him.

  I stood there and stared down at him.

  He was fast asleep, mouth open, dried vomit and blood on his lips.

  He smelled like he hadn’t showered in a week, probably longer.

  This was where I came from. A piece of shit. A piece of shit I could never fix. Just like Andy. I could never fix her. I was too young to know what she was doing. And now I had Sienna. I’d saved her and was now thinking about the rest of my life with her.

  I stood there as long as I could stomach it. Finally, I left. I walked out the front door and sat in my truck, staring at the house for a few seconds. All of this was the past. This was the prologue to what I had now.

  Before I could pull away and leave the house and the memories fading in the rearview mirror, Sienna called.

  There was a sense of relief when I saw her name on the screen.

  Her voice, however, didn’t give me any sense of relief.

  She was crying.

  “Darlin’, what’s wrong?” I asked, fearing the worst.

  “My grandmother called me,” she said.

  “What? Your… you haven’t talked to her…”

  “In years,” she said in a broken voice. “Years, Kace.”

  “Shit. Where are you?”

  “My place.”

  “Stay right there. I’m on my way, okay?”

  “Kace…”

  “What?” I asked.

  “She called to tell me that she’s dying.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Lost and Last Words

  Sienna

  I couldn’t stop pacing until he got there. When he did, I could see all over his face that something was very wrong. The look in his eyes melted with a hidden anger.

  I hurried to him and he hugged me.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” he said as he held me tightly to his chest.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her since I left. That was years ago, Kace.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was as cold as I remember,” I said. I broke from the hug. “Her voice was flat and straight to the point. Just like always. But if we were in front of other people, she would become this loving and caring woman.”

  “Forget about all that, Sienna. Look at right now. What did she say and what do you want to do?”

  “You’re in a bad mood, Kace. What happened?”

  “I’m here for you.”

  “And I’m here for you,” I said. I put my hands to his chest. “Something is bothering you. Tell me. Please.”

  “My father made a fool of himself today,” he said. “I had to take care of him. Just a subtle reminder of my life.”

  “Oh, Kace. I’m so sorry. He got drunk?”

  “He somehow ended up at a bar with a lottery ticket. Used that to pay for drinks and got his ass kicked by some guy. So then I got there and had to punch the guy because my father wouldn’t stop running his mouth.”

  “You punched someone?”

  “Yeah.”

  I was shocked. And a little turned on. But I shook tha
t feeling away. This was serious. Everything was serious right now. And horrible.

  “What the hell is wrong with everyone?” I asked.

  “Good question. If you find out, let me know,” he said.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Darlin’, I didn’t come here to talk about this shit. You said your grandmother is dying.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “And…?”

  “I don’t know, Kace. She didn’t say much more than that. I answered the phone and it was like stepping back in time. The way her voice was so proper and without emotion. She said that she’d waited too long to give me something and that she didn’t have much time left. I asked if that meant that she was moving away. She said that she was making her spot in bed to die. Without a single ounce of emotion.”

  Her voice clung to my recent memory. I couldn’t imagine being alone right then.

  “So what do you want to do, darlin’?”

  “She said she had something for me.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe I should go and get it.”

  “Maybe you should. And whatever she wants to say or do, you’re in control. You just walk away like you did before.”

  “It was bad, Kace. We got into a really big argument. She compared me to my mother, warning me that it was only a matter of time before I ruined my life and ended up killing myself. I can still hear those words in my head. You know? I think maybe those words were playing that night…”

  “Hey,” he said. He touched my shoulders. “Don’t mix things together. Okay? Look at what you’ve done. Look at everything you have right now. I don’t give a damn what you think about yourself, because I’m here to tell you that you’re fucking beautiful. That you’re fucking strong. That you’re the best fucking person I’ve ever met in my entire life. You never took the easy way out of things, Sienna. You could have. Maybe you flirted with it before. But you never took it.”

  I saw the emotion climb across Kace’s face. It made my throat clench up. He started to blink fast, this tall man laced with muscle looking ready to break down.

  I reached up and touched his face. “I wouldn’t be here without you. Please know that, Kace. You make me…”

  “Darlin’, I’m going to ask you again. What do you want to do right now?”