Seeing You

by Dakota Flint

  It felt like an eternity while he just stared at me and breathed, and then finally he said, “Okay, I guess.”

  Right.

  “So, uh, how come… Is Mary not coming out any more to drop offer dinners and clean up?” It was obvious that the woman who used to come out to the ranch to cook and a clean a few days a week hadn’t been around for a while.

  “No, she said she… No, she’s not. Sorry, I should probably clean up a little better.”

  Ya think? Jeeze. All I said, though, was, “Yeah.”

  Talk about uncomfortable. I stared at him, noting his russet hair needed some serious trimming and his cheekbones were more prominent than I remembered, although they went well with the shadows beneath his eyes and the general gauntness of his frame. He stared at me, seeing God knew what. An awkward silence like this never would have developed if Simon were—I cut off the thought.

  Finally, I couldn’t take one more minute of this, and said, “What happened to this place? To you?” I could have kicked my own ass. What a stupid thing to say. I could tell by the look on Wade’s face that he thought so, too. “Have you tried talking to someone?” Great, I was handling this beautifully.

  His whole body tensed. “About what?”

  I wasn’t sure if I should go on. “About your…grief. About Simon. About trying to…” I stopped, because as much as I loved the sound of my own voice echoing around the now empty kitchen, I would have preferred it far more if Wade had stayed and listened instead of getting up without a word and walking off.

  Chapter Three

  Living in different cities for over a year had made me soft.

  I had blisters aplenty after a morning spent mucking out stalls, and I had all sorts of muscles screaming at me for riding for so long yesterday. Some things you just had to ease back into.

  Which was why I was here in Wade’s kitchen, scrubbing dishes instead of being out checking grazing conditions with Billy and Joe. Wade wasn’t around, and Mack had disappeared earlier, mumbling something about working on his truck. I suspected he was actually resting, since there was a minute there in the barn this morning that I swear he almost fell over for no reason. Well, there was a reason all right, but I doubt if he’d tell me about it. I was going to have to force it out of him eventually, and in the meantime, I ignored the tendrils of worry worming into my brain.

  I was just wishing I had turned on the radio or something instead of spending so much time alone with my thoughts when the phone on the wall rang.

  “’Lo?”

  “Dylan?”

  “Hey, Erin. How are you?”

  “Good. Thanks for calling me when you got into town.”

  “Sorry. I just got in last night. Was about to call you actually.” Small fib, but it would have occurred to me soon, I was sure. Great big brother I was.

  “Yeah, right. I believe that like I believed you the time you gave me a Barbie for my birthday with a shaved head and claimed it came like that, and the only reason it wasn’t in the box was because you didn’t want me to have to go through all the hard work of taking it out.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “You never did believe me that it was GI Jane.” I smiled to myself, but it faded at Erin’s next question.

  “So you’ve seen Wade? Talked to him?” She sounded anxious.

  “Well, I’ve seen him. Talked to him, well that’s kind of a liberal description.” I rubbed my forehead. “Christ, Erin, why the hell didn’t you tell me the shape this place was in? Why didn’t you call me home sooner?”

  “Hey, last I checked you were a grown man. Didn’t think I should have to tell you that ‘your family needed you, not after Simon… Not after what we’ve been through.” She paused and then said grudgingly, “And every time I said I was calling you to come home, Mike said I should leave you to do it in your own time.”

  I smiled, thinking of Erin meekly following what her big, burly husband told her to do. “And you, of course, listened to his advice without question.”

  She snorted. “What do you think? So, are you staying in the house with Wade?”

  “Hell, no. Even the bunkhouse, smelling of sweat and beer, is better than this. Couldn’t you have done some cleaning when you were out here?” I grinned.

  Erin didn’t disappoint me. “Oh, because when the little ol’ female comes to visit, we should just keep her busy cookin’ and cleanin’, is that right? Whatever. Seriously, though, the house has gotten a lot worse in the last couple months.”

  Well, shit, I hoped so. How long could a man live with filth like this?

  “Yeah, about that. Why isn’t Mary coming out here still? Wade wouldn’t say.”

  Erin sighed and confirmed my suspicions by saying, “I don’t really know. I asked her when I saw her in the grocery store the other day, and she didn’t really give an answer. All she said was she felt bad, but she has a family.”

  “So he probably wasn’t paying her either.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Damn. I wonder if he’s even looked at the books lately.”

  “It’s really that bad? Oh God. I knew things were getting thin, but I never thought… He’ll never survive it if he loses the ranch too. Never.”

  “He’s not going to lose it. I won’t let that happen.” My voice came out sounding sure and strong, and I was glad.

  “I’m glad you’re home, Dylan. Real glad. Now come over here for dinner tonight. Mike’s coming home from work early, and he’s anxious to hear how you got along with all the snobs on the East coast. See if you can drag Wade with you, but come without him if you can’t.” Her tone of voice said she had little hope I would actually be able to convince Wade to go.

  “All right. Sounds good. Tell the girls they better be prepared to help me fill my bear hug quota. I have fourteen months to make up for.” More than she knew.

  We said our goodbyes, and I stood there staring at the wall and thinking.

  Returning to the ranch later that night after dinner at Erin’s, I turned off the engine of my truck and just sat there staring out into the darkness. I could hear Billy and Joe talking and laughing on the front porch of the bunkhouse, and I tried to identify the feeling that was running through me.

  It felt foreign, and I tried to pinpoint it. I thought back to dinner and the worry in Erin’s eyes when she asked about Wade and the ranch, to the disappointed looks on the girls’ faces when they realized Uncle Wade wasn’t with me, to all the work I did today and the endless list for the next day, and the next, and the next.

  I felt the feeling move through me, pumping my blood, quickening my breathing, tightening my hands into fists, and I recognized it from the days after Simon’s death. Anger.

  It had been a while since I felt anger at anyone else besides myself, and I took a moment to savor it. It actually felt good.

  The next minute I was out of my truck and racing into the house, calling Wade’s name. I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer, and I went tearing up the stairs, searching all the rooms until I found what I was looking for.

  Fifteen minutes later, I stood back and admired the way Simon’s three paintings looked on the wall in Wade’s bedroom. Looking at the one of Wade seated atop Rudy out near the pond, it was obvious why other people had been willing to pay Simon to teach them how to paint. What was also obvious, and what couldn’t be taught, was the emotion that rolled off that painting. So much love.

  I knew exactly how Simon had felt.

  Chapter Four

  I was sitting at Wade’s desk the next morning, digging through the mess of paperwork to try to figure out where the Lazy G stood financially, when the man himself stomped in and slammed both hands down on the desk. He towered over me, probably trying to intimidate me. It might have worked if I hadn’t seen this bluff play out over the many disagreements he and Simon had over the seven years they lived together.

  I decided a little preemptive strike was necessary here and said, “Do you even know if the
Lazy G is in the black these days?” Wade looked briefly taken aback, and before he could answer, I waved my hand at the mess of papers on his desk, and said, “Of course you don’t.”

  Wade ignored that. “Were you the one who put the paintings back up?” Oh, yeah, Wade was angry. Growling. Despite feeling happy at the evidence that Wade wasn’t a completely empty shell, I used the residual anger I was still feeling from yesterday to hand it right back to him.

  “You’re damn right I did.”

  Admitting that seemed to take the wind out of Wade’s sails. He looked away for a moment then turned back to me and practically whispered, “Who gave you the right?”

  I shot right back, “No one. But I’ll be damned if I sit by and let you pretend my brother didn’t exist. Who gave you that right?”

  For a moment I thought he would haul off and hit me, actually wished that he would, but he just stood there breathing hard. He started to say something, stopped, looked at me like I was dirt beneath his boot, curled his lip and stomped back out again.

  I leaned back in Wade’s chair, forced myself to relax, and couldn’t help but think that had been waiting for fifteen months.

  Three hours later I rubbed my eyes and tried to decide what would be better for my headache, dinner or bed. Probably dinner first.

  I got up, leaving the rest of the paperwork for tomorrow. I had at least managed to establish that the Lazy G was operating in the black. Barely. And if things didn’t turn around soon, the promise I made to Erin would come back to bite me on the ass. Hard.

  Mack was just serving up Sloppy Joes when I got back to the bunkhouse, and I grabbed a beer and sat down. It wasn’t until I had shoved the sandwich into my mouth in three bites that I looked up to find Mack, Billy, and Joe all staring at me.

  Mack was the first to speak. “You talk to Wade?”

  Deciding not to quibble over semantics I said, “Sure.”

  Mack snorted. “Well?”

  “Wade agreed to see a grief counselor, helped me clean the house top to bottom, paid all the bills, and he’s ready to help move cattle tomorrow.” I took a swig of my beer and almost spit it out laughing when I saw the identical expressions of shock on their faces.

  Seeing my laughter, Mack looked like he wanted to strangle me, Billy looked exasperated, and Joe just looked confused. “Honestly, Mack, what were you looking for me to do? I landed a lot of different gigs while I was gone, but magician was never one of them.”

  Mack sighed. “I dunno, boy. I just thought… Shit. Well have you at least looked at the books?”

  “Yeah. Y’all will get paid, don’t worry,” I said, and the other three began to eat with enthusiasm.

  I was leaning back and contemplating how much it would suck to fall asleep in the kitchen chair when I noticed Billy looking at me like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating. “You got something to say, Billy?”

  Billy turned red to match his hair, the curse of having fair skin and freckles, and said, “Yeah, I uh—” He cleared his throat. “Remember when Simon first moved in with Wade? Before Wade laid down the law and told Simon he could work in any room in the house except the office?”

  I had forgotten that Billy had been here at the Lazy G almost as long as I had, and I smiled as I thought back. “Shit, yeah. I don’t think I ever looked at Wade swimming in the pond without busting a gut after that.” We all started chuckling.

  Noticing Joe looking confused, I explained, “Old Wade’s not real big on words most of the time, but he sure does have a temper. He didn’t want to scare his temperamental little artist off while they adjusted to living together those first few months, so when Simon irritated him, he’d go jump in the pond to cool off rather than yell at Simon. Wasn’t long before Wade was dunking himself two, three, four times a day.” I stopped to laugh, but sobered a little as I recalled the first time I had seen Wade coming out of the pond in cut-offs plastered to his legs, water streaming down the ridges of his chest. I had gotten completely hard before it dawned on me I was looking at a man like that.

  Seeing I wasn’t going to continue the story, Mack picked it up while we followed him outside to sit on the porch, probably to give us a visual. “Well, one day, we’re all sittin’ on this porch after dinner, having a beer, when we see Wade come slammin’ outta the house and Simon’s sittin’ right here and says, ‘I doodled on some papers on his desk. Bet ya twenty bucks he goes in fully clothed this time.’ Sure enough, Wade got to the pond and kept right on walkin’, boots and all, until all we could see was his gray hat floating in the water where his head had been a second before that.” Mack paused as we all hooted with laughter. “We ’bout pissed ourselves laughin’, and wasn’t long before Wade musta decided the water wasn’t gonna help that time, ’cause he was up and outta that pond before we could blink. Came up, face all red, grabbed Simon’s hand and dragged him up to the house without a word. Didn’t see those two for days.”

  Joe was laughing, but never having met Simon, he obviously needed clarification. “So, Simon was doing stuff to annoy Wade on purpose?”

  “No, not really. Little shit was testin’ Wade,” Mack said with a fond smile, and I had one of my own as I wondered if that was the first time since the accident that Mack referred to Simon as a little shit. Hard to call the dead names, even ones you’d been calling them for years.

  “Testing?” Joe looked even more confused at this.

  “Oh, yeah. Wanted to see how far he could push ’im, wanted to force Wade to talk stuff out if they needed to so it wouldn’t build up like that. And based on the look in Simon’s eyes when it was obvious Wade had been in the pond, the little shit was havin’ fun, too. Kinda twisted sense of humor on him,” Mack said.

  I snorted at the last bit. Truer words. Simon and I’d had so much fun over the years, though.

  We were all quiet for a moment, smiling, remembering, and it felt good. Just deep down good in my bones, thinking of Simon looking up at me with his laughing brown eyes and his paint-flecked brown hair, so unlike my own blond strands. Much better than the last time I had seen him, his eyes filled with pain and his hair matted with blood.

  My smile faded, and I glanced over at the house when I noticed movement. I saw Wade sitting on the wooden swing in the deepening shadows of the front porch, and it felt like he was looking straight at me, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Mack spoke again, this time the sadness coming through in his gruff voice. “Yep, Simon sure was good for our boy over there. Just what Wade always needed.”

  Chapter Five

  The rain pounded on the roof, the wind screamed through the trees, the crack and boom of thunder kept an even drumbeat, and I watched it all from my bedroom window in the bunkhouse, marveling at nature’s symphony and the inconsiderate rehearsal time.

  Well, to be fair, it wasn’t the storm that woke me up. It was the nightmare.

  The nightmare was always the same. The last few minutes with Simon, looking up at me and covered in blood, saying, “Love you…brother.” Then me screaming for help on the deserted highway, clutching Simon’s limp body, too mindless to pull my cell phone out of my pocket and make the call.

  Then there was Wade standing over us, seeming eight feet tall, fury on his face as he said, “Why Simon? Why not you?”

  I shuddered, thinking back to that night in May when I lost the man who was a brother to me in every way that really counted. Most of the nightmare was so tragically real, a flashback of those heartbreaking moments, but Wade wasn’t there.

  No, that was just in my mind.

  I hadn’t dreamed about the accident in weeks, hadn’t woken up sweating and crying and wondering “why me?” in months. I had recently, in fact, started dreaming of our childhood together, of Simon and Erin and our parents, Annie and Fred. I dreamed of the day I came to live with them when I was six, bewildered by the disappearance of my mother and this concept called death, when this Simon boy sat and held my hand all night when I was too scared to sleep. I dreame
d of the time a pair of nine-year-old boys thought they could hitchhike to California instead of doing their chores, but wound up waiting at Miss Flossie’s house for our parents to pick us up while the town librarian fed us stale cookies and Lactaid. I dreamed of the time twelve-year-old Simon tried to convince Erin she was adopted and was really born at a house located at 666 Damnation Drive, of the moment when she looked at Simon and said, “If you’re trying to make me cry, it won’t work. Dylan was adopted by Mom and Dad and look how lucky we all are.”

  Much better dreams than nightmares of blood and death and grief.

  My attention was caught by the light flashing on in the kitchen of the ranch house, and I wondered what Wade dreamed about at night. A moment later it looked like the front door had opened, and I squinted, trying to see in the darkness if Wade was outside. Then the moonlight caught him as he stood at the top of the porch steps, his face tilted up to the rain.

  I watched as he made his way down the steps, over the mud and grass, to the corral fence. Puzzled, I stared. This wasn’t a drizzle. It was a storm, and even if it were almost summer, a drenching would sap body heat pretty quickly. “Christ, what the hell is he doing? Doesn’t he care if he gets pneumonia?”

  Abruptly I realized, no, he didn’t care. That was the point. And just like that, once again I felt the burn of anger infusing my limbs, powering through me as I dragged my Levi’s and boots on, bubbling under the surface as I stomped down the hall and out the door. I didn’t stop until I reached Wade where he was leaning against the fence, and I grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around to face me.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I barely recognized my own voice.

  He blinked water out of his eyes and stared dumbly at me before saying, “What?”

  “I said, what the fuck are you doing out here? I know it might seem like a nice night for a walk to you, but I thought I might inform you that it’s fucking pouring outside.”