Comin' Home to You

by Dustin Mcwilliams

“You know what, Owen? It’s like you just dug your own grave.”

  Owen’s suspicions were correct. “Get that gun out of my face.”

  “The past few days, all I’ve thought about is killing you. When you admitted that you were the one who killed Roy, I really wanted to kill you. I mean, I think I knew this whole time. But I got that confirmation that you did and I could not stop fucking fantasizing about how to kill you. Whenever I sleep, I have dreams of you dying by my hand. There was one where I used an axe, and then I used a flame thrower. I shoved a grenade in your mouth. I never wanted to wake up. To kill my brother’s killer in the flesh. Shit, that’s blood for blood right there. Killing your enemies and being the only one standing, to me, is fucking tough.”

  Owen stood firm and held his ground. He’d been through so much. Another gun in his face wasn’t going to make him waver. “Get the god damn gun out of my face.”

  “Fuck you, Owen. Fuck you. Fucking brother killer.”

  “You’d better think about Austin. You’d better think about his little face.”

  “HE’S ALL I FUCKING THINK ABOUT!”

  Scar’s voice made Owen almost jump out of his possible grave.

  “What fucking sucks is that every time I picture you dead in a pool of blood, I see Austin. You don’t understand.”

  Owen was utterly confused. “Understand what?”

  “Nine long fucking years ago, I started to realize some shit. I’ve been with so many girls, I lost count. Thing is, I wasn’t careful with most of them. Most of the time, I didn’t give a shit. I was ready to continue the line of Graysons. I ain’t the most tenderhearted person, but I thought about havin’ me a little boy to teach how to fish and hunt and be a man. But as many girls as I went in, it seemed kinda odd to me that not a one of ‘em ever got pregnant. So, I went to a doctor in Frisco. I was already there on some business, so thought I’d check it out. Did some tests. I learn I ain’t got a sperm count. I can’t have fuckin’ kids. That fucked me up, man. Fucked me straight up.”

  Leaning on the shovel’s sturdy wood grip, Owen was thankful for Scar’s suddenly random story. It was more time for him to figure out how to slyly pull out his own gun to even the odds. Still, he had to be wary not to make it obvious. Something clicked in his mind. This was starting to play out just like the situation with Roy. As much as he wanted to avoid that, if it came down to it, he would kill again.

  Scar squatted down like a catcher in a baseball game. “I just remember leaving that doctor’s office and finding the nearest bar. I got fucking drunk as shit. This red haired girl I met told me to come back to her place. We were about to fuck, then she asks if I have protection. I said I ain’t got any STD’s. She tells me she isn’t worried about that. So I have to look her dead in the eye and say for the first time to anyone, that I can’t have kids. She laughed and said then that’s a good thing. I fucked her, but I was so angry. So distraught. The bitch thought it was funny. I sure as hell didn’t.”

  His gun slowly lowered, pointing to a small pile of dug up dirt, where an earthworm emerged from the soft brown soil. “So I go back home. I wasn’t really ready to tell my mother yet, but I knew I had to. I walk in her house and she has this fucking angry face. I asked what the hell was going on. Because usually it’s my fault why she’s angry. She raises her voice, saying it isn’t you, it’s your little brother. He got the little Tomkins girl pregnant. I was pissed at first. Ya know, since I hated all you Tomkins and all that shit. But then I realized this had to be a sign from God or something. I may not be able to have kids, but I can damn sure raise one to be mine.”

  Owen cleared his throat and took the subtly sneaky opportunity to climb out of the freshly unearthed grave. “Except you aren’t raising him. What’s your point exactly?”

  “I asked you what it meant to be tough. You say it is mental. Standing up to life’s shit and all, regardless of how bad life was. Well, I stood up to life’s shit. Fuck, here I am, fuckin’ babbling on and on to you of all people about how I shoot blanks and never have my own son. But I’m fucking tough enough to love a son that ain’t my own. What’s that say to me now? That I can’t fucking pull the trigger on one motherfucker that I hate so goddamn much, because I worry what one little boy is going to think if I do that? I used to be fucking ruthless, man!”

  “Austin changes everything. There ain’t a fault in how you feel about him. He’s one of the best things that ever happened to me. But you think about it, I probably would never have Austin if I was a good father. Funny how things work out.”

  “How old were you when you had Ali? 16?”

  “I was 15 when she was born.”

  “And how old were you when Austin was born?”

  “Um, 29.”

  “I remember that day. We were all waiting in the waiting area. Me, my ma, my sister, a cousin of mine, I think. And I remember you weren’t there.”

  “She told me not to come.”

  “Your grandchild was being born and you didn’t even bother to show up?”

  Owen looked to the sky, but quickly averted his eyes. The sunlight was beaming harshly into his face. “I wanted her to know that I respected her decision. Though I did come the next day. Got to hold Austin for the first time. Loved that boy immediately.”

  “Me too. But Clint didn’t even see Austin until three days after he was born. He was out getting drunk with his friends instead of being there. Ma was so fucking mad. So was I.”

  Both men paused their meandering conversation to look at the tarp. Owen had excavated it over a minute ago, yet Scar hadn’t bothered to undo the tarp to take a look. He instead struck up a conversation that still had an unclear destination. Owen was guessing that Scar was stalling to avoid seeing the remains of his older brother. Putting himself into Scar’s shoes, Owen couldn’t blame him. If Ben was in that tied off tarp, as bad as he wanted the confirmation, he’d have trouble unveiling the shrouds.

  It had been a decade and a half for Scar to keep giving himself false hope about his brother’s livelihood. He had the audial confirmation of Roy. Now it was time for the visual proof. Slowly, as if not wanting to scare whatever may lie underneath, his hand went to the rope. He still wasn’t in any hurry to untie the rope, but after getting frustrated by the double knot’s difficulty, Scar pulled out his knife and cut both ropes with ease. Once again, he was gentle and careful as he lifted one end of the tarp upward. The insides were wrapped like a fruit roll up, so it took some time before he saw what he needed to see.

  A large bag of bones, so big that if you put the body together, it would be taller than Scar. They were mostly intact, but signs of decomposition could be seen around the feet and hands. Old scraps of blue jeans were noticed among the bones, and two leather boots were mostly intact. Scar did nothing but just look at the skeletal remains. Finally, he stood up with his head down. His body slowly made a trembling motion. He rose from his squatting position. His open hand squeezed so hard that he could have broken a walnut inside of it. The hand holding a gun once again was pointed at Owen.

  “You fucking motherfucker!”

  Owen could almost feel the heat from Scar’s tears. But as soon as he raised his gun, he just as quickly lowered it. His free hand covered his eyes. Scar’s grief, combined with his feelings being swayed by his state of drunkenness were greatly affecting him. Never had Owen seen feelings from Scar, especially conflicted feelings like these. Taking a step away and turning his back on his brother’s remains, Scar wiped his open hand on his jeans. Owen’s hearing wasn’t as good as it once was, but he could have sworn he heard the hints of sobs from his Grayson enemy. He never thought he would see the day where he witnessed Scar shedding a tear.

  Scratching his itchy scalp, Owen was beside himself. He looked around, noticing a squirrel run up a tree. He also thought he saw a snake, but it was just a convincing looking stick. Saying anything might provoke Scar. It was best to just sit and wait.

  Scar finally made a noise, clearing his throat and blowin
g snot from his nose. A bird chirped at the same time his shaky voice spoke. “I just remembered something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It was something my dad said when I was younger.”

  Owen was all ears. He placed his hands on his hip bone. It would give him a better and quicker advantage to grab his gun if needed.

  “You remember pee wee football, right? Down in Canton. You ever play?”

  “One year. Realized I didn’t much care for playing it. Ben played it his whole life.”

  “Yeah. Adrienne had their own team. We were the Steelers. I wanted to be the Cowboys, but one of the Canton teams were already the Cowboys. Kinda pissed me off, but it was just a team name.”

  Owen lightly smiled. “We were the Steelers the one year I played too. Must be an Adrienne thing.”

  “Don’t make no sense. There ain’t any steel mills here. If anything, we should be the Oilers. Plenty of oil towers around here. Shit, you can go outside and look at them at night. They’re usually lit up. But whatever. I’m getting off subject.

  “Ben was on my team. I think we were eight or nine, around Austin’s age. We were having practice and Dad was out there with me. You remember my cousin Michael?”

  “I think so. Your Uncle Max’s boy?”

  “That’s him.”

  Curiosity got the best of Owen. “Whatever happened to him?”

  “Well, you know how his mom and him moved away when Max dragged those black guys around from the back of his truck, right? I heard he joined the military when he graduated high school. He went to Iraq, I think. Made it back in one piece. That’s all I know.”

  “Ah.” There wasn’t really any other way to reply to that.

  “Anyway…shit, I suck at telling shit. We were doing hitting drills and I told Michael I was going to nail Ben’s ass. Ya know, because he was a Tomkins. So I did what I said. I hit him good and hard. He was on the ground for a minute. Our coach was over there checking on him. Michael high-fived me. Our coach was pissed though. He had me run across the field over and over again. Shit, at the time I thought that punishment was worth it.”

  It rang a bell for Owen. He remembered Ben coming home shaken up from practice. It was easy to recall because earlier that day, he and Patricia had sex without any protection. It was likely the day Ali was conceived.

  “So Uncle Max dropped me off at the house,” Scar continued. “I find my dad out at the barn, feeding the horses. I tell him what I did, how I just popped that stupid Tomkins boy. He smiled a little. I told him I can’t wait to do it again next practice. Then I said that Ben was a no good something or another. My dad stops what he was doing and tells me that I should give everyone a chance. Doesn’t matter their skin color or their last name. Give them a chance, then form your own opinions.

  “So…I did. My dad hardly ever gave calm words of advice, so whenever he did, I heeded them. Next practice, instead of just knocking the shit out of him, I acted normal, I guess, and talked to him. I still didn’t like the Tomkins. But Ben himself wasn’t that bad. Quiet and reserved back then. But tolerable. I mean, I still hit him hard in hitting drills again, but he seemed a bit cooler about it.”

  “What are you getting at?” asked Owen.

  Scar wiped his nose with his hand. “Our fathers. Mine and…what was your dad’s name? Ah, it doesn’t matter. They became friends in a lot more tense time. Even after that relative of yours got shot and killed, my father never said anything bad about yours.”

  “Yeah.” Owen took off his brain’s blinders to realize something. “My dad hated the Graysons. And he said a lot of bad things about a lot of them individually. Never anything about your dad though.”

  “Exactly. They still respected each other. They tried to end these hostilities, but shit went bad.”

  “We also have Austin now.”

  “Yeah. He’s like our own little messiah. Everyone loves him, even if he is half you.”

  “It shouldn’t matter what he is. He’s our blood.”

  Noticing his gun was still in his hand, Scar placed it back behind him in his waist line. He moved any stray bangs over his head, leaving his forehead bare. Kneeling back down close to his brother’s bones. “I’m never going to really like you. We ain’t ever going to drink beers together and watch the games or any of that shit. Especially for what you did. But I think about it sometimes. If things were different, Ben would probably be sitting here with a gun on Roy while he dug up your bones.”

  “Wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “I’ll tell my family to chill. No provoking anyone. No starting shit. Not many people know about my brother. We’ll keep it that way. You tell Ben to lay the hell off of me.”

  “If he catches you doing something illegal, he won’t have a choice.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing he won’t ever get to.”

  Owen watched Scar’s mouth make some sort of a smirk. God, he hated that Grayson smirk. It was so pretentious. But, now was the time to stop with petty annoyances. The corner had officially been turned. Or so he hoped. That was all he had to cling to right now. The promise that things might get better. But he needed more. He needed to ensure this confirmation by the only way men know how.

  Scratching at his wrist, Owen found himself in a pensive mood, as if years and years of work by their fathers was finally coming to fruition. Blowing air through his nostrils, Owen finally spat out what he needed to say. “So, do I have your word? Is this feud over?”

  Scar said nothing for a moment. He just looked at Roy’s bones. Owen had no idea what was going through his head. It was probably an incomprehensible mess of jumbled thoughts and chaotic ideas. For him to just end his desire for vengeance had to be the most difficult thing he ever experienced. But all of this started before Austin was born. That boy was the only reason these two adversaries even agreed to meet. As long as he was alive and well and neither party provoked or attacked the other, he would forever be the raison d’etre for Owen and Scar.

  Finally, Scar averted his eyes from his brother. “Yeah. Word given. But you’re carrying him to the truck. You need some sort of fucking punishment, at least.”

  Owen could live with that. He didn’t really want to, but compared to everything else, this task would be a walk in the park. He knelt down, wrapping the tarp back over the skeleton. Scooping his arms underneath the rib cage area and the knees, he mustered up all his strength to lift it, just to lightly drop it. Owen was feeling extra weak, almost to the point where he wanted to collapse and take a rest on the soft soil. Looking at the dug up dirt made him grasp that he still had to fill up the hole. Downtrodden, he sighed at all the work he still had left. But this was no time to be lazy and careless. If some random person came walking in this area to find a large hole that could fit a body, suspicion would be roused. He could take nothing to chance. But Owen calmed himself, convincing himself to take it one step at a time. First, he needed to get Roy’s remains to Scar’s truck.

  Dragging it sounded like the easiest way. He hated feeling like a world class weakling, but his body wasn’t what it once was. It was just something he had to deal with for the rest of his probable short life. Turning his back to Scar, he got into a manageable position, grasped his grip onto the edges of one side of the tarp and started pulling it toward him, with his feet backing toward his destination. This was a much easier method, but one that made him look feeble. He dragged the body a few feet, yet was already feeling out of breath. The humidity made sweat drip from his chin and down the small of his back. It was becoming a hassle just to obtain oxygen. Taking a breather, Owen rested with his hands on his hips.

  A loud cracking sound was heard through the trees. Owen felt his muscles tense and jump as he tilted his head upwards as birds fled the sanctity of the trees. That sound was recognizable, but another sound occurred almost instantaneously after the first one. This one, however, was accompanied by a fierce burning sensation in the lower left side of his back. It was like someone stuck a hot poker di
rectly into his skin and left it there for his tanned skin to twist and melt. Owen fell to his knees, desperately reaching to touch the burning spot, hoping that would relieve the pain. However, it only made the pain pulse into something much worse. Even through the jumbled thoughts of agony, Owen quickly recognized what had just happened when he looked at the red liquid that covered his hand.

  He had been shot.

  Chapter 16

  Owen’s eyes stung. His lower back burned and ached. He could feel the warm blood pour down his skin and further down his pants leg. His head felt like a weight was dropped on it and the rest of his body grew weaker. His mind, however, was fully active and throwing a flurry of questions at him. Who did this? Why? Fuck, this hurts. Scar? Fucking Scar! Who the fuck else could it be?

  His head turned slowly, but he kept his back turned, so that he was only looking from the corner of his eye. Only about twenty feet away, Scar had his gun out and at the ready, but had his back turned to Owen. His face was alert, yet confused and rattled. He frantically looked around, his eyes darting from tree to tree. Owen could feel his own anger bubbling to the surface. He felt his cheeks redden to a candy apple red and his eyes, once just stinging, burned like the fires of hell. The man a near distance away from him was playing stupid. It just infuriated Owen more. He gave his fucking solemn word that the feud was over, and as soon as Owen turned his back to Scar, he betrayed that oath by putting a bullet in his back. Owen’s head felt like it was going to explode like a hydrogen bomb. God, he should have drawn his gun earlier and ended this charade. There would never be peace between these two families. Only now after enduring this burning bullet hole into his skin did he realize this. The whole concept of a peaceful relationship was a fresh mushy pile of cow shit. There was a reason why he never trusted Scar. Now, he was paying for it. He kept asking himself in lightning fast thoughts, what was I thinking?

  Was this what actual betrayal felt like? These feelings were similar to the mental anguish from the other night, when Grace completely ended their relationship. But this was different. He and Scar had never been friends. It seemed impossible to feel deceived by someone who you never really trusted anyway. The more he thought about it, it wasn’t so much as a betrayal toward him. Sure, the pain was excruciating, but the real person who would be the one paying from the fallout would be Austin. The boy would hear about this in some way or another. After a sob story about how he couldn’t get the revenge he wanted because he cared so much about Austin’s feelings, for Scar to change his mind and shoot while Owen’s back was turned was just a brutal kick in the nuts for the poor boy. That was betrayal in its purest form. Now, Owen had reached his breaking point.