Scar just stood there. He barely could make sense of himself. His mouth opened and closed. His brain was in limbo on what to do. With some effort, the crackling of words escaped. “Because…I…I.”
He couldn’t finish his sentence. But Ali knew what he wanted to say.
Trying to remove his strong hands from her shoulders again, she gently pushed away. Scar didn’t resist. All of the strange emotions building up inside of her gave her the need to wet her whistle. “I need a drink.”
She attempted to open her own bottle of whiskey, but she always had difficulty removing the wax tab off of the Makers’ Mark bottle. Sensing her urgency to wet her throat, Scar bent down and picked up his vodka, cracking the plastic lid open. Seeing what he was offering, she grabbed it and put it to her lips. She didn’t dislike vodka, though she could taste the cheapness in Scar’s purchase. However, it did the job. Scar looked upon the opening of the bottle, as if knowing that Ali’s mouth just touched it. Slowly, he took a drink himself, then screwed the cap back on.
The bells of the liquor store door chimed, followed by the sound of a key jiggling inside of a lock. Lancaster walked by and noticed the two. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, we’re good,” answered Scar.
“Well, alright. Try not to loiter too long. If you don’t mind,” carefully spoke Lancaster, being sure not to explicitly give commands to Scar.
Lancaster hopped into his beat up old hatchback and drove off, leaving Ali and Scar alone in the dark, with only an outdoor lamp attached to the building and the moon and stars up above. Ali cut a quick look to the heavens. The moon with its gray craters visible, glowed vividly. The stars, not wanting to be outdone, twinkled brightly. A moth flew past her face on its way to hover over the lamp. She looked back to Scar, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. It creeped her out, but his eyes did have a hypnotizing coldness to them.
Ali decided to take a shot in the dark. If he liked her so much, he may comply to her words. “Don’t hurt my dad tomorrow.”
Scar gave an inquisitive look, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m serious. He’s been through enough. You’ve been through enough. Just let him live his days in peace.”
“You act like there is something wrong with him.”
Ali repeated what she said in her head. She didn’t spell it out that Owen was dying from a disease. He must have figured that out himself. Regardless, she deemed it best not to fib. “He’s sick. He probably won’t get better either. So just leave him alone. Please?”
Scar took another drink of his vodka. He crossed his arms and looked down at the blacktop pavement. A cricket scampered across his feet. “Why should I? You know what he did?”
“Yeah, I do know what my dad did. He protected me and himself. That’s what he did.”
“You call it that. I call it fuckin’ murder. And I want blood.”
“Dad did what he had to do. You really gonna fault him for that?”
He shrugged, narrowing his cold eyes. “And maybe tomorrow I will do what I have to do. You going to fault me for it?”
Ali’s eyes grew large and she sucked in her lips. Furious determination glowed in her eyes. “I can tell you right now asshole, if Dad doesn’t come home tomorrow, Austin and me are going to pack up our shit and move far away, just like that sister of yours.”
That took hold of Scar’s attention. “Hey, don’t be threatening that shit.”
“It ain’t a threat. It’s what I will fucking do if he doesn’t come back. Hell, if you even touch a hair on his head, I’m out of this state. I may go fucking live in Australia to get the fuck away from you. Don’t fuck with me!”
Scar rotated his shoulders up and down, loosening them while his face glared anger and worry. He knew he had backed himself into a corner with his veiled predictions of tomorrow. If he wanted to see the boy he loved as a son again, he was at her mercy. “This is bullshit.”
“It’s bullshit you want to kill my dad for defending himself.”
A growl hummed from Scar’s throat. If he were his younger brother, he would have already been wailing and flailing fists at her. He could see how Clint got so violent. Unlike him, however, Scar kept himself under control.
Ali wasn’t done ranting. “Plus, can you imagine the heartbreak and pain on Austin’s face if he hears his grandfather was killed? By you? Do you care about his feelings? He’d fucking hate you.”
“No, he wouldn’t!”
“Dad has ALWAYS been there for him. ALWAYS! Whenever my stupid ass needed a fix, he would be there. Whenever I just didn’t fucking feel like dealing with him, he was there. He loves him more than he loves you!”
“You’ve never fucking asked me to watch him.”
“Because I don’t fucking trust you, Scar. I damn sure never will when you threaten the life of my dad.”
Scar stopped in his tracks. “Fine. I’ll consider it. On one condition.”
“One condition? What’s that?”
“I may not come back either tomorrow. So, if something does happen to me, I want to die knowing what your sweet lips taste like.”
Ali felt a shockwave go down into her stomach. There it was. It was crystal clear now. Scar had feelings of some sort for her. She didn’t know if those feelings were genuine or full of animalistic lust, but it was evident that he harbored some sort of fondness for his brother’s ex. His way of expressing it, however, left much to be desired.
She didn’t know what to say, but if this was just a means to an end, she knew what must be done. “I kiss you, then you won’t hurt Dad?”
“Pretty much.”
“I don’t believe you,” sighed Ali.
Scar slowly took a step toward her. “Believe me when I say there is way more I’d like to do with you.” He looked down on each section of her, from her brown hair to the top of her flip-flop wearing feet. “But I respect you more than that.”
“Just because I’m Austin’s mom. That’s it. Without him, I’m just another one of those skinny drug addicts that you like to fuck. I ain’t dumb, Scar. Let’s just get this over with.”
Scar sighed with a glum look on his face. His voice faded. “You’re not like them.”
With those words, he leaned in with enough quickness that Ali wasn’t quite prepared. Her shoulders stiffened and her already flat stomach sunk in. Her legs felt like they were going to sleep. She could only describe the way his lips met hers as gentle, yet forceful as hell. Her feelings on it were complex. If Scar wasn’t related to the man who had abused her for the past few years, she would be in bliss. Scar was a strapping and attractive man. Strong, yet not disgustingly chiseled. His face had both harshness and softness. There was a reason he had been a lady killer throughout these parts. Even the rich girls around here whose parents became wealthy from the oil and cattle trade thought he was sexy, and that was from women who wouldn’t dare even speak to someone like him.
But this was also the man who had threatened her own father’s life on many occasions and who also stood pat while his younger brother used her as his torturous plaything when angered. Just remembering that caused her to pull away from the kiss.
Scar attempted to continue, but Ali pushed his face away. “No, you got what you wanted. That’s enough.”
He delicately licked his lips and backed away a step. Finding the right time, she quickly raced to her car. Scar didn’t stop her. When she opened her car door, she took one more vicious glance at him. “Don’t let Austin down.”
She put the keys in the ignition and sped away, leaving Scar alone underneath the light of a lamp and the moon. Violent tears welled in her eyes when she analyzed what she just said. Don’t let him down. You’re the only one who has let him down. That’s all you have fucking done from the moment he was born, Ali. You’re a fuck up. A failure. A drug fiend. You always have been and always will.
Ali cried the entire way back to her father’s house.
Chapter 15
Sitting rather co
mfortably on a plastic outdoor chair on the front porch, Owen was up early, watching the sky turn from black to dark blue with the lower horizon a brightening orange. In his hand was a fresh cup of coffee, with a small sprinkling of both sugar and cream in it to change the color. It was early, way before he would normally wake up. But something inside of him told him to get up and prepare for the day. There, with his hot beverage steaming upward, he witnessed the heavens changing color to the east. All his worries about later today faded away.
In fact, he was looking forward to whatever may come, good or bad. Sipping coffee at this moment had become the penultimate chapter in this saga. He still had no intentions of dying on this day, but if he did, he was glad that there would finally be a conclusion. But Owen felt he had done some good things recently. Ali was on the right track. Austin would have a strong mother to be with as he grew into a man. Ben and his family would be there too. If he were to go down, at least Austin would be in good hands.
As his mind raced, Owen was aware that there were so many scenarios that could occur today. He could be killed by Scar or even from his disease. He could have a car accident on the way. He could even be the one to do the killing. As much as he wanted today to go peacefully, Owen planned to bring some backup in the form of his handgun. He expected Scar to bring his own piece too. He hoped it wouldn’t come to both men having to use their weapons, but if it came down to it, Owen was ready to survive to fight another day. Yet, he stayed optimistic. He would always despise the Graysons, but if Scar was willing to work with him, there might be a chance that this whole thing can get settled. It was best for both families, especially Austin, if this feud were buried and over on this Thursday.
Ali did her best to get him passed out drunk last night, but Owen wasn’t feeling it. Plus, he saw through her guise when she kept putting drinks in his hand. He instead smiled and sipped lightly, only drinking three small glasses of the smooth Maker’s Mark. Instead, it was Ali who passed out on the recliner. Austin had fallen asleep on the couch watching television. Owen’s eyes flickered in drowsiness as he noticed the coffee wasn’t taking effect. He got to bed at a decent time, but found sleep difficult to come by with his racing mind going full throttle. When he finally did doze off into slumber, he found himself in the Adrienne cemetery. It was so cloudy that it could have been perceived as the late evening. In front of him was Patricia and her limestone grave. She had her back turned to Owen as she stared at her final resting place. She only turned around for a brief moment to look at him. Her eyes were the same as the previous dream; lively, but sad. While facing him, the clouds spread open, just a peek. It was a hole wide enough for a vibrant ray of sun to smother her in warmth and light. In the light of the sun, she was no longer her zombified self. She looked like she did back before the drugs. To him, there was no one more beautiful on this entire planet.
Now, he was regretting never going to visit her grave. While he doubted talking to a rock in the ground had any practicality, perhaps it would be mentally therapeutic. Owen wanted to tell her everything that he could think of. He wanted to talk about how Ali was looking to overpower her addictions and how she found the courage to leave the biggest piece of shit on the planet. She needed to know about her grandson who was growing up both physically and mentally every day. He’d also talk about Ben and the rest of his family. He wished he could be sharing that life with Patricia in the flesh, but he couldn’t beat himself up over it. The time for regret had to end, mainly because if he had time for that, he had time to live his life, which was slowly dwindling away. He did wonder if he was exaggerating on his life expectancy. Maybe the doctor was wrong. Perhaps he’d be okay if he took care of himself and stopped drinking. The latter may actually be a possibility, when just a few days ago, it was unfathomable. He amazed himself by how little he drank last night. There were some nights where his craving for alcohol just wasn’t there. That was as rare as a lunar eclipse. But he started to have hope that it could be done, if it wasn’t too late already.
Owen rubbed his eyes. He was still exhausted. His eyes grew heavy, weighed down by imaginary dumbbells.. A great yawn made itself known, and he slumped slightly, propping his legs upon an ice chest that hadn’t been used in months. The next thing he knew, the sun was no longer rising. What remained of his cup of coffee had spilled onto the wooden porch. He made a hacking sound when adjusting himself from his slumped position. Further startling him was his grandson, standing next to him with a mocking smile on his face.
“Grandpa, how did you fall asleep like that?”
Owen slowly eased himself up in his chair to lean forward and stretch out his back and neck. Rubbing his face heedfully, it kicked in that he was beginning to feel like an old man with how sore he felt. It may have just been the awkward position he was sleeping in. “I couldn’t tell you. I went out here to watch the sun rise and the next thing I know, I fell back asleep.”
“Mom’s still asleep. She’s snoring and drooling.”
“I think your mother had a rough night.”
“Drank too much, I bet.”
Owen raised his eyebrow to his grandson’s abrupt bluntness. “Let that be a lesson to the dangers of alcohol, bud.”
“Oh, I don’t want any,” burst out Austin. “I took a drink of Dad’s beer one time. That was…bleh.”
“Oh yeah? Was it that bad?”
“Yeah. I’ll stick to my Gatorades.”
“Probably a good idea. Say, what time is it?”
“I think I saw it was nine or so.”
Owen silently sighed. It would have been bad to miss the day’s events.
“Hey Grandpa, you want to play some catch?”
“Did you eat any breakfast?”
“Yeah, I had a Pop Tart.”
Owen grimaced at the thought of eating the manufactured pastry. “I only keep those around for you. They are too sweet for me.”
“So come on? Catch?”
There was no way he could say no. He had a few minutes to spare. “Yeah, let me get my glove.”
Austin darted in the house quickly, not even shutting the door behind him. He raced out with two gloves, with a baseball securely tucked into one of the gloves. “I already got them ready.”
“Came prepared?” questioned Owen, followed by a laugh. “Well, let’s play some catch then.”
For the next thirty minutes, the two tossed the ball back and forth. With each throw and catch, Owen was able to forget about everything he was thinking of before he fell asleep. In fact, he was feeling as full of energy since back in his early 20’s. He even threw a few balls pretty hard at his grandson, who still caught it, but had to take off his glove and shake his pulsing hand. Austin accepted the challenge and hummed it back at his grandfather. While the throw didn’t really hurt, Owen took off his glove and shook his hand the same way, feigning the stinging pain. Both smiled and laughed at each other’s over the top pained expressions. This was the moment Owen wanted to last forever.
When it was time to leave, Ali and Austin said bye. The boy didn’t seem to care too much about where he was going. Owen had lied and said he was off to look at a truck he was considering purchasing, since his was beaten up beyond repair. Austin hadn’t shown an interest in automobiles, so it was a good fib. Ali, on the other hand, had a morose and defeated stare. She gave her father a light hug, one that indicated in its body language that this was not a goodbye embrace. She didn’t want him to go, nor did she even want to consider saying farewell. But he couldn’t let that sentiment stop him today. This had to be done. Before he stepped in her car, Ali stopped him by lightly grabbing his shoulder.
“Hey Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s take a picture. All of us together.”
Do we have any pictures together? After a quick speck of thinking, he knew that he and Austin had taken pictures together. But of all of them together? Ali only started liking him in the past day, so it would make sense that they wouldn’t. This seemed a good time to ch
ange that. “Sure. Yeah. Sounds good.”
“Good. Because we don’t really have any of all of us together.”
The three generations of Tomkins lined up. Owen was behind Ali, who was in the middle. He leaned down toward her son as she took the picture with her phone. When they gathered around to look at the result, all three shared a laugh in unison. Owen was smiling, but it was awfully huge to the point of being cartoonish. Ali had blinked and Austin’s eyes had looked away from the camera. Ali wanted to take another one to correct the mistakes, but Owen admitted that this one was perfect. His daughter sent him the picture to his phone for him to look at later.
Once he buckled his seatbelt in Ali’s Honda Accord, she came around to his side of the car. “Dad? Be careful.”
Owen warmly smiled, though sadness shone in his eyes. “If…if anything happens to me…”
“Don’t say that, Dad. You’re definitely coming back.”
“I know, but if I don’t, watch the sunset. You remember how I would drag you outside every evening to watch the sun go down?”
“Yeah. I remember once you had just got out of a philosophy class or something. You told me that the sun was like a superhero, because it would always come back from darkness to brighten our day.”
Another genuine smile from Owen greeted her response. “I’m surprised you remembered.”
“I remember a lot more than you know.”
“Well, when you get the chance, watch it with Austin. Really watch it.”
After those words, Owen took off. He quickly opened the newly received photo, getting a hearty laugh after viewing it. The vehicle smelled of cigarettes and whiskey. Thinking back, he realized that the Maker’s Mark had been opened before Ali presented it to him. She must have gotten in a drink or two before she arrived to his house.
In the seat next to him was his 9 millimeter handgun with an extra clip that he put in the car before he sat down to enjoy his cup of coffee. He had a fold out knife in his jeans pocket to give him both short and long range options, just in case things got physical. He reminded himself that it was just for his protection if things got bad. He took a deep breath. Nerves were starting to get to him.
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