Atticus

by S. Bennett

  “God, yes,” I exclaim and then start stammering my apologies. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. Let me start again. My name is Hazel Roundtree and well… I’ve become a good friend to your husband over this past year.”

  Assured that Bernard is not dead or in peril, her gaze becomes cool again. “And why are you here?”

  I take a deep breath. “Because I can’t stand to see him homeless when he has a family so close by.”

  “You think this is our fault?” she practically hisses through the screen door, and then starts to close the inner door on my face.

  “No,” I say quickly. “Please… I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant by that, nor do I think this is your fault at all. Bernard knows this is all on him. He’s so terribly ashamed of what he’s done to his family that he’s just… well, he’s broken. His shame is what keeps him away, not his mental condition.”

  “You’re a psychiatrist, huh? You know the inner workings of his demons?”

  “Not at all,” I murmur. “I just listen to him talk, and I know how he feels.”

  For a moment, I can see utter confusion take over her face as she understands a younger white girl is on her doorstep saying she’s good friend with her sixty-two-year-old homeless husband, and she can’t quite fathom how something like that occurs.

  “I used to be a bartender, and Bernard would sometimes come in for a few beers,” I explain.

  Her eyes go frosty again. “Yes. He always loved his beer a lot more than his family.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” I say, and there’s no hiding the admonishment in my voice that she would be so judgmental. “He medicates himself that way.”

  Wanda has the grace to look chastised, and her eyes cut guiltily away from mine.

  “Look… I don’t bartend anymore. I manage a veterinary clinic and my boss, Dr. Oley Peele, and I… well, we hang out with Bernard a few times a week. He comes out to Oley’s farm, and we watch sports and talk. Like I said… he’s become a dear friend to me, and I just… I just wanted to see if there was any way to reunite him with his family.”

  Wanda stares at me a moment, and I can see her debating whether to open the door to let me in or slam it in my face. To my relief, she relents and invites me inside.

  Once she has us seated in the kitchen with cups of coffee for each of us, she says very bluntly. “My marriage with Bernard is over. I wouldn’t let him come back here even if he wanted to.”

  I’m not prepared for the little stab of pain in my chest over that sentiment, and my face must reflect it.

  “You must think me very coldhearted,” she mumbles as she looks down to her coffee.

  “Not at all,” I assure her, and her eyes come back to me hesitantly. “Bernard has not ever held anything back regarding the hell he put you and Tyrone through. He told me that when he left the last time, you asked him not to come back. He understands that. I understand that, and I’m not sure he would come back even if he could. Bernard is a very strange person. He lives an absolutely simple and meager life, yet it suits him. It’s like he’s taking from life just about all that he can handle. He lives in a very narrow world, and I think that keeps his demons mostly at bay.”

  Wanda’s eyes fill with tears. “I tried so hard over the years to get him help. I put demands and ultimatums on him, but he ignored them all. I have to tell you… that first time he left, I was a little relieved. There was finally peace in this house. Tyrone was only eleven, and he had no clue what was going on. Couldn’t even understand it. The remainder of Tyrone’s childhood was almost a game… when would Daddy come home for good? The last time Bernard went missing was on Tyrone’s thirty-third birthday. That was four years ago. We haven’t heard from him in four years. That’s twenty-two years total of him putting us through that crap, so yes… the last time he left, I told him not to come back.”

  “I think you did the best you could, Wanda,” I reassure her. “Bernard thinks so, too.”

  “Lord, I wish you hadn’t told me that,” she says with a watery laugh, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “Makes me want to take the fool back.”

  That makes me laugh, and we share a sad smile.

  “Why are you really here?” she asks.

  I shrug. “I just feel so bad for everyone involved. I don’t know that there’s a mainstream place for Bernard anymore. He doesn’t do well with pressures and crowds. He has a hard time battling his guilt for failing his family. But maybe I was hoping there could be something… a reconnection maybe. If the marriage is over in your eyes, I respect that, but I know Bernard really misses Tyrone and I think he has major regrets where his grandkids are concerned. I just thought maybe there could be something, even if it’s small.”

  Wanda smiles. It’s wan and brittle, but it’s genuine. “You seem like a really nice woman, Hazel. And I admire what you’re doing for your friend. I care for Bernard because he’s the father of my son, but I’ve moved on. I’m actually seeing someone now.”

  “Oh,” I say in surprise, then I give a hard shake of my head. “Well… why wouldn’t you? You deserve to be happy and find love.”

  Wanda’s eyes fill with tears. She doesn’t check them, letting them slide right down her face. “Thank you for understanding.”

  My hand reaches out and takes hers. When I squeeze it, she starts sobbing. I end up staying at her house for a very long time.

  CHAPTER 33

  Atticus

  I’m not sure what’s going on today, but Hazel and Oley brought me to the clinic. I rarely get to go these days because apparently, I make too much of a fuss when I can’t see Hazel. It drives me nuts when she’s in another room, with another dog or one of those stinky cats. So yeah… I make a bit of a ruckus. When she comes back to me, I sniff her all up and down. She smells of disloyalty and cat dander. I try to ignore her for a little bit, but that never quite works because I love her too much.

  So far, there hasn’t been any animals coming in today. Hazel and Oley are in the room that has all the cages and supplies. They’re pulling everything out of cabinets. Then there’s a lot of counting, sometimes discarding, and making lists. Oley called it “inventorying”.

  I’m currently lounging in the corner, enjoying the cool tile on my belly while I gnaw on a deer antler. It’s pretty tasty, and it presents a challenge as it’s not very chewable.

  I got this deer antler at the pet store yesterday. Mom took me there, then bought me more toys and chew things than ever before. She told me I needed more stuff to keep me “occupied” and “out of trouble.”

  As if I’m actually “trouble”.

  She loves me just the way I am.

  But I get her worry. I was really sick last night, and it freaked her out.

  It started with me doing something really bad. I ate one of her socks, and it made my tummy hurt bad. It took me forever to throw it up. I gagged and wretched while Hazel cried.

  She cried harder when it came up, this time in relief. Oley had told Hazel I’m lucky it didn’t obstruct my bowels, which would have required surgery and could be really dangerous. He suggested I needed more stuff to keep me occupied.

  So I got deer antlers, Kong’s, and food puzzles I have to solve to get treats. All great stuff for sure, but that sock was tasty going down.

  Oley and Hazel spent some time talking about why I do the things I do, and the truth is… I have no clue why I do. It’s just that I see opportunity and seize it.

  Also, I have very little willpower.

  But in this instance, there were certain factors that played into the sock incident. Some of it’s Hazel’s fault. For example, she keeps all the toilet paper locked up tight. She also bought a garbage can with a lid I can’t pry open, which I find to be scandalous. She puts the pillows up in the tiny linen closet as soon as we get out of bed in the morning which is downright insulting. And last week, after I’d chewed just a tiny bit on the leg of the coffee table, she smeared something really hot on it to discourage me from doing it a
gain. I had to taste it, though. It burned like fire and made me sneeze a lot. I’ve stayed away from the coffee table since.

  She takes all my joy away and so, when I saw the sock that must have fallen out of her laundry basket as she was putting her clothes away, I seized the opportunity to try something new. At first, I thought about just chewing and shredding it, because that’s what I normally do with non-food items that hold no nutritional value. But the next thing I know, I’m swallowing it right down.

  It just seemed… natural to me.

  While I am grateful for all the new toys and things to chew on, I’m pretty sure I’ll leave socks alone now. When it was all said and done and yacked up, it just wasn’t a fun experience.

  “Oley,” Hazel says as he goes through medicine vials, keeping some and throwing others away. I stop chewing my antler and raise my head to listen, because the tone of Hazel’s voice speaks to me clearly. She’s nervous, and I need to be poised to offer comfort.

  “Yeah?” he replies without looking up from his work.

  “I have something I need to tell you.” I start to stand up. Hazel sounds terribly nervous now and she’s wringing her hands as she faces Oley with an apologetic expression on her face.

  Oley must sense it too, as he straightens and turns to face her. “What is it?”

  “Maybe you better sit down,” she hedges.

  “Spit it out, Hazel,” Oley grouses. He’s not a patient man.

  Hazel takes a deep breath, and I pad over to her side. A hand drops and goes right to my head where it starts rubbing. I try not to get lost in the sensation because it feels really, really good. I need to be vigilant, so I can support Hazel as needed.

  “Okay… I know you’re going to be really mad, and I just want you to take some calming breaths before—”

  “Spit. It. Out,” Oley orders.

  Hazel jumps, and it makes me want to growl at Oley. I don’t because I remember he’s kind and loves Hazel like I do. He must just be a little grumpy, which happens on occasion with Oley.

  “I went to see Bernard’s wife on Monday,” she blurts out.

  Oley’s bushy eyebrows fly up. He sounds completely scandalized. “You did what?”

  Hazel nods effusively. “I tracked her down and went to see her. I wanted to know if there was any way I could help reconcile their family.”

  Oley’s face remains impassive as he stares at Hazel.

  “And… I spent a lot of time with Wanda. I’m sad to report there’s no reconciliation that’s going to happen there. I’m sure that won’t be surprising to Bernard, of course.”

  Hazel doesn’t say anything but just looks at Oley expectantly.

  Oley sort of blinks and grumbles, “Well… that’s not that bad. I mean, I don’t think you should have interfered but doesn’t sound like any harm done.”

  “His son Tyrone is going to come over to join us for pizza and baseball,” Hazel blurts out, and she does it quickly because it’s hard to unleash them.

  “Jesus Christ,” Oley says quite loudly.

  Not sure the meaning of those words, but they must be bad because Hazel gasps in surprise.

  “Have you told Bernard this?” Oley asks, but he doesn’t wait for Hazel to answer. Instead, he holds his hand up and shakes his head. “No, of course you didn’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here in front of me looking guilty as hell for interfering in something extremely personal. I can’t imagine the shit storm this is going to cause.”

  Hazel doesn’t reply. She just stares at Oley with wide eyes.

  “Oh… now you have nothing to say?” Oley demands.

  Hazel’s hand rubs my head furiously and my back leg starts shaking. “It’s just… I’ve never heard you cuss before. And you took the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “Focus, Hazel,” Oley snaps. I want to growl again, but somewhere deep inside, I think Hazel might be deserving of his wrath right now, so I remain neutral.

  “Wanda called Tyrone during my visit, and he came over and talked to me. Wanda doesn’t want anything to do with Bernard anymore other than a fond concern for his welfare. She’s actually seeing someone. I’m not sure how Bernard will take that, but Tyrone says he’ll let his father know.”

  “He’ll let his father know?” Oley repeats.

  “Tonight. When he comes over.”

  “And you’re just going to spring this on Bernard?” Oley asks.

  “Well… I don’t know. That’s why I’m telling you now. I’ve been fretting over it all week, and I don’t know what to do. Tyrone really wants to see his dad. He wants some type of relationship with him, even if it’s not a deep one. He’s willing to take whatever Bernard can give. He’s a really great guy, Oley. You’re going to like him a lot.”

  Oley sighs heavily, and his gaze drops to the floor. He scratches his hands through his white hair. I wonder if it feels as good as when Hazel scratches my head, but I don’t see his leg shaking, so I doubt it.

  When he looks back up to Hazel, the reproach is gone from his eyes. I think he’s just accepting of the “shit storm” that Hazel has apparently created. “What do you think Bernard would do if we told him about it ahead of time?”

  “Go AWOL,” Hazel says without hesitation. “He’ll hide. He’s too ashamed of himself to see his son.”

  Oley suddenly looks extremely weary as he nods. “I think you’re right. I suggest you don’t tell him and be prepared for that storm tonight.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Hazel

  If Bernard feels the tension in the air around us, he hasn’t said a word. But it’s thick, and Oley keeps shooting worried glances my way.

  I’d picked Bernard up like usual, and we grabbed a pizza. Luckily, he was chatty enough for the both of us that he didn’t notice my reserved nature in the car. When we got to the farm, Oley helped contribute to the conversation.

  But we’re nervous. Tyrone will be showing up at any time now, and it’s going to totally blindside Bernard. I figure there’s going to be one of three outcomes.

  Bernard is either going to be deliriously happy to see his son.

  Bernard is going to be pissed at me for interfering.

  Bernard is going to be happy to see his son but is going to be pissed at me for interfering.

  My hands are currently rubbing Atti’s neck—giving more of a massage than a scratch—as he lays across my lap, intermittently burping pepperoni in my face. I saw Bernard “sneaking” it to him, but I didn’t even tell him to stop. I was feeling too guilty about being a busybody that I let Bernard have his way.

  The baseball game—the Cardinals and the Reds tonight—fades off to a commercial and where there is normally conversation between us during this time, usually about non-baseball stuff, it’s utterly silent.

  “What in the hell is going on?” Bernard demands as he looks from me to Oley. He’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch from me, scratching Atticus’ butt. Atti had his eyes half closed in ecstasy from the dual ministrations he was receiving from me and Bernard, but they fly open.

  “What do you mean?” Oley asks in a voice that quavers slightly.

  Bernard throws a hand my way. “This one is acting weird. She hardly said anything on the way over here, and I know damn well she saw me giving Atticus pepperoni, but she didn’t say a word.”

  I stare back at him guiltily, face flushed.

  “And you,” Bernard says, turning his attention to Oley. “You didn’t argue when I said the Braves needed to trade Lowe. I mean… what the hell, man?”

  Oley averts his eyes, completely called out.

  “Now something’s going on and I want to know what it is,” Bernard concludes.

  Oley won’t look at Bernard or me, his focus going to the TV and a commercial for laundry detergent.

  My arms circle around Atticus’ neck, whose head had swung Bernard’s way. He immediately gives me his full attention, bumping his head gently against the side of my face before pulling back. His crystal blue truth teller
focuses intently on me.

  I give my dog a smile before bracing myself. On an exhale, I say, “I went to see Wanda on Monday.”

  Bernard’s jaw locks, but he says nothing.

  “I wanted to do something to bring your family back together,” I say without breaking eye contact. I even lift my chin a little because I’ve decided I’ll regret nothing just like Atticus when he’s bad. What I did was done out of love. “I also talked to Tyrone. He really wants to see you, so I invited him over tonight.”

  Bernard explodes off the couch, causing Atticus to yelp and try to climb up my shoulders. I push him all the way off the couch, then stand up to face Bernard.

  “Goddamn you, Hazel,” Bernard yells with fists clenched. “Goddamn your meddling. What gives you the right to decide what I want in my life?”

  “You miss your family,” I tell him, keeping my voice low and gentle. “I wanted to help give them back to you in some way if I could.”

  “That’s not for you to decide,” Bernard snaps. “That’s my life your fucking with.”

  It’s not the first time Bernard’s dropped an “F” bomb in front of me. He holds that language in reserve around Oley, though, so I know he’s pissed.

  “I’m sorry this upsets you,” I say in an attempt to alleviate his anger. “I only did it out of love for—”

  “Don’t even go there, Hazel,” Bernard interrupts me. “Because if you cared for me, you would have exercised a little more regard for my feelings.”

  I feel like such a shit right now, and perhaps I am regretting my actions. But before I can try to defend myself further, there’s a knock on the door. Bernard’s eyes go round and wild looking, as if he’s having a panic attack.

  “It’s your son, Bernard,” I state, trying to calm him. “And he loves and misses you. He won’t put any pressure on you. He doesn’t blame you for anything. He understands. You need to give him a chance to have something with you.”

  Oley pushes up from the recliner, grabbing his cane. “I’ll get the door,” he murmurs.