The Standoff

by Scott Blade

  “Get the phone off the table this instant, young lady!”

  Lauren made an inaudible gasp that translated to: How dare you speak to me that way!

  Widow wondered if she would’ve just said it if he hadn’t been there. Something told him the answer was yes.

  Abe said, “We have a guest, Lulu.”

  Walter said, “You can check your phone after breakfast.”

  Abe said, “You’ve got the rest of the day to play around on it.”

  Abby added, “After she helps me clean up the kitchen.”

  “Of course, Mother. She’ll help you first, then she can use her phone,” Abe said.

  Widow stared on with a bit of envy, a bit of admiration, and a bit of humility at the family interaction that he’d only read about in books. The White family breakfast. They truly represented an iconic image of the American family life he’d never had.

  Widow sipped his coffee, slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself, but fast enough on a race to the finish before the hotness and freshness of the batch of coffee died away. In the real world, there are thousands of types of coffees and beans and aromas and flavors and ways to brew and ways to enjoy. To Widow, there were only two types of coffee—hot and cold. He preferred the former. Although, he had seen people at Starbucks ordering iced coffee. The first time he saw it, he thought to himself, The world is coming to an end. Who the hell drinks coffee with ice?

  Apparently, a lot of people did, too many people, in his opinion.

  Widow looked at Walter.

  “Did you call the sheriff?”

  Walter smacked his head with a free hand.

  “No. I forgot. I’ll do it after breakfast,” he said.

  Abby asked, “Why call the sheriff?”

  Walter had just shoveled bacon in his mouth. He put up a finger to tell his mom: one second . The table fell quiet, waiting for him to finish. Finally, Abby and Abe both looked at each other and then at Widow, looking for the answer.

  He said, “We saw some lights on last night at that place across from you guys.”

  Abby asked, “Pine Farms?”

  Abe said, “They’ve been gone for years now. No one lives there.”

  “Did we get new neighbors?”

  Walter finished chewing and swallowed.

  “No. We saw lights on. Like candlelight.”

  Abby said, “Well, who’s there?”

  “I thought squatters.”

  “Should we call Henry?”

  Walter looked at Widow.

  “Henry’s the sheriff. Henry Rourke.”

  Abe said, “Everyone just calls him Henry. No one calls him by his last name.”

  Dylan wanted to add to the conversation.

  He said, “He’s been over for breakfast before too. I call him Mr. Henry.”

  Abe took a sip of coffee from his mug and set the mug down. Then he slid his chair back and folded his napkin over to the side of his plate. He got up and walked back to the kitchen, out of sight. He returned with a cordless house phone. It was white and slim and sleek. He wasn’t dialing a number. He had done that out of sight. He already had his ear to the phone and was waiting.

  Abe looked at Walter.

  “I’ll call him now.”

  Someone must’ve picked up the line because he spoke.

  “Maddie, we got a problem. Maybe. Is Henry in?”

  The sheriff must’ve answered the phone because Abe went on to explain the situation. He said his son had seen lights on at the abandoned farm and there shouldn’t be anyone there and that it was probably squatters. There were pauses, listening on Abe’s part, and nods and then further explanation of what they saw. He left no stone unturned.

  Within a short minute, he was off the phone after a flurry of thank-yous and back at the table, back with the napkin in its original position and the coffee in his hand. Abby gently slapped his arm.

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “They’ve got a lot going on today with the explosion and all.”

  Dylan looked at them, his eyes opened wide with interest. He perked up and sat up in his chair.

  “What explosion?”

  Maggie said, “Don’t you worry about that. Eat your breakfast.”

  Walter put a hand on his son’s shoulder and patted him with a father-son gesture of affection that Widow saw and knew he would never know. Walter turned back to his own father.

  “What did he say, Dad?”

  “Like I was saying. There’s lots going on, but they’re looking for some guys who might be involved with the Athenians. Apparently, the explosion sent the ATF and the cops into a frenzy. Everyone’s a little out of whack right now, but they’re following up on every lead, no matter how small.”

  “They’re sending someone out?”

  “Henry’s coming himself.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he mentioned that his boys are all out there helping and running roadblocks.”

  Abby asked, “Henry wasn’t with them?”

  Abe shrugged.

  “Someone’s gotta run the shop, I guess. Or maybe I just happened to catch him at the right moment.”

  “He must be busy.”

  “He sounded tired.”

  Maggie said, “He’s probably been working since early this morning.”

  “Probably. The explosions were around four-thirty.”

  Walter asked, “When’s he coming out?”

  “I guess soon. He’ll probably stop by after. You know how he likes your mom.”

  They all looked at Abby.

  “He doesn’t.”

  Abe looked at Widow, who was confused.

  “Henry dated my wife way back before you were born when the dinosaurs roamed the earth.”

  Like Patrick Mickey? Widow wandered.

  Abby said, “We didn’t date. It was high school. We were friends; that’s it.”

  Widow smiled. The family continued to chat and laugh and eat.

  Several minutes passed, with more conversation. Abby circled back around to Widow being up all night.

  She said, “After breakfast, you can take a nap in the guest bedroom, Mr. Widow.”

  Abby had only just started to eat her breakfast. She forked a pile of eggs into her mouth and then put the fork down and dabbed her lips with a napkin. A second later, she repeated the whole process. She ate like someone who was hungry, but on guard because of an old tradition of politely and table manners.

  Abe stared at his empty plate, contemplating a second helping.

  He said, “Will you be able to nap with all that coffee in your system?”

  “Never had a problem before.”

  “Really?”

  Widow shrugged.

  “Coffee doesn’t keep you awake when you’re trying to sleep?”

  “Coffee keeps me awake until bedtime.”

  “Even in the day time?”

  Foster looked out from across the table through a grand bay window at the morning sunlight and the gray that covered most of it.

  She said, “Who can tell the difference with this weather?”

  Maggie said, “No one. This polar vortex is real, I guess.”

  “Real?”

  “Yeah. I guess it’s a real thing.”

  Walter turned his head and looked at his sister.

  “Don’t get started, sis.”

  “Don’t get started?”

  “Yeah. On your global warming kick.”

  “I told you a million times. It’s called climate change, and it’s real.”

  “I think the jury is still out on that,” Maggie blurted out.

  Foster rolled her eyes.

  “No. Science is in agreement.”

  Abe decided to get a second helping, only a smaller portion than he’d started with.

  For a moment, Widow thought he was going to interject, but he stayed quiet.

  Walter said, “Sis, don’t start. It’s morning and Mr. Widow’s here.”

  At that poin
t, Widow was refilling his coffee mug, again. Dylan stared at him, like he was watching a natural wonder. Lauren was blatantly staring at her cell phone again, but not touching it.

  Abby was eating and dabbing with her napkin.

  Widow stopped and stared over the lip of his mug.

  This was the American family at breakfast, at Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or just a large family gathering.

  This was how it went , he thought.

  People who loved each other, linked by blood, bonded by family love, arguing over something that causes great rifts in communities, but doing it with respect, with debate, with dignity.

  He cracked a sad smile because he saw the beauty in what they had together, but also he felt a sharp sting, way down deep, that told him it was something he had never had and probably never would. Not the way he lives his life.

  Suddenly, he noticed that the debate over climate change going on between sister and sister-in-law had turned to him.

  Foster stared at him.

  Walter stared at him.

  Maggie stared at him.

  Foster said, “What do you think, Mr. Widow?”

  “About what?”

  “Climate change?”

  He looked at their faces and thought he should stay out it, but he was at their table, eating their bacon, enjoying their coffee, and they were asking him a question.

  He shrugged.

  “I think carbon gases are warming the planet. I’ve been to Antarctica and the Arctic in submarines. I’ve seen polar icecaps melting away.”

  Maggie threw her hands up in frustration.

  “Of course he’s going to take your side.”

  Foster said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Abe finished a bite of bacon and decided it was time for him to step in.

  “Ladies, who cares about this topic? We’re at breakfast. And Mr. Widow’s gotta be tired. Let’s not drag him into family squabbles.”

  Widow didn’t argue with that. He didn’t want to be involved.

  Maggie said, “You’re right.”

  Foster nodded in agreement.

  Silence fell over the table for a minute.

  Abby spoke first.

  “Did you know that Foster is a doctor?”

  Foster said, “He knows, Mom. I told him. We all told him.”

  “Oh. Did you know she was single?”

  They all turned their heads and stared at Abby; even Lauren stopped playing on her phone to look at her grandmother.

  “Maw-maw, you’ve told him that like a million times.”

  “Oh, my. Well, excuse me.”

  The Whites all laughed.

  Ten minutes later, they finished breakfast, or rather, Abby notified them that it was over because she started clearing dishes. The Whites put down their utensils, with Dylan scarfing two last strips of bacon, and they began moving to the family room, leaving behind their dishes, except for the children. They stayed behind to help clean up.

  It all went down like clockwork, like a predetermined chain of command and duties. Abby was the commander and Dylan and Lauren were the grunts.

  Widow was the last man behind. He had been given no assignment, no duties. He was tired and had already helped Abe outside. So, he figured no one would be upset if he joined the family in the main room, leaving the dishes behind. Widow was many things. He had been many things. But the original thing he had been was a southerner. Leaving behind dishes as a guest in someone’s house wasn’t in his DNA.

  “Let me help you guys.”

  He carried his empty plate and stacked several others on top in order of emptiest to fullest, a plate half covered in uneaten food.

  Widow followed Dylan into the kitchen, over to a counter, and stacked the dirty dishes next to a large farm sink. The sink was large enough to bathe a lamb in.

  Abby walked over, waving her hands.

  “Oh, no, dear. You go on out there with everybody. I can handle this.”

  Dylan took that as a dismissal of all of them because he started to head out of the kitchen ahead of Widow.

  “Not you!” Abby barked. “You’re on dishwasher duty!”

  “But Maw-maw, I emptied the dishwasher yesterday. Make Lauren do it.”

  “Lauren’s wiping things down. You, Empty and fill it.”

  Lauren was in the kitchen already with a damp towel in hand, wiping countertops.

  “But Maw-maw.”

  “Dylan Abraham White, you do as your maw says.”

  Dylan was young, but not stupid. He knew enough about life to know not to argue with his grandmother. So, he didn’t.

  Dylan let his arms drop down like an ape. He dragged them and his feet over to the sink and began cleaning dishes and stacking them. There were already dishes in the sink for him to clean and stack.

  Widow looked around the kitchen.

  Abby saw him and walked over to him. She gazed up at him like he was a tree standing in the middle of her kitchen.

  “There’s no machine dishwasher. If that’s what you’re looking for. Dylan is the dishwasher.”

  Widow smiled and nodded.

  “Okay. Thanks for breakfast. And coffee.”

  “No worries, dear. You want more coffee?”

  Widow thought for a moment and was tempted for that moment, but then he thought of the offer to take a nap in the guest room.

  “No. I’d better pass. But I’ll grab the pot from the table for you.”

  “Don’t worry. Stop working, dear. Go out there with the others.”

  Widow laid his hands down by his sides and smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Abby smiled back. She moved over to Dylan.

  Widow stayed a moment longer and watched her take her grandson’s place behind the farmer’s sink.

  He looked excited.

  “I can go to?”

  “I done told you no. You’re going into the dining room to fetch the rest of the dirty plates. Hurry now ‘cause then you’re taking my place back at the sink.”

  Dylan looked at Widow with a plea for help on his face.

  Widow said, “Don’t look at me. You heard the general.”

  Abby smiled at Widow again, a bigger smile than before, and he turned and left the kitchen to join the others in the family room.

  As soon as Widow stepped through the kitchen door, he felt warm heat brush over his face. A fire crackled and spat in a fireplace on the far wall in the family room. Everyone was stationed at spots in the room like a military unit huddled around a campfire out in the desert.

  Abe stood at a back door on the far wall of the room. He had the back door kicked open. A heavy log from the fireplace propped it in in place. A screen door separated the inside of the house from the cold outside.

  Abe smoked a cigar near the open door. He puffed and exhaled the smoke out into the outside grayness.

  The fire hissed a loud sizzle as if it had hit an extraordinarily flammable log. Then it died down to a normal, soft crackle.

  Maggie sat with a hand on Walter’s knee. They looked snug and comfortable on the sofa. Dr. Foster White sat on a loveseat across from her brother, with a big empty space next to her.

  There were two empty armchairs across from each other, one in front of the fireplace, angled to see both the room and the fire.

  Widow had three choices of where to sit. He got the feeling that the family had set up an ambush for him as if they would know if he was attracted to Foster or not by what seat he chose. Sit by her, and it was a red alert that he was interested. Sit at one of the armchairs, and he wasn’t.

  Foster was an attractive woman, around his age, and a doctor, which indicated she had brains. All things he liked very much, but he yawned as he stood there and felt the urge to take the Whites’ offer to nap in the guest room. Sleep when you can was a universal military motto.

  Instead of falling into their ambush, Widow joined Abe at the door.

  “Did you enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Widow?”

&nbs
p; “I did. Thank you for the invite, sir.”

  “Thank Walter; he’s the one that offered.”

  Widow nodded.

  “So, what would you like to do next? Want to join us out in the field for some work today?”

  Widow looked out into the yard at the snow and the gray.

  “You guys going out to do more work in this weather?”

  Abe puffed the cigar and craned his head, looked up at the sky.

  “Yeah, doesn’t look like friendly weather. That polar vortex is hitting us hard. So, no. I guess we’re not. My wife would kill me if I sent you back out there, anyhow.”

  Then he went quiet, looked around the room like he was making sure no one was eavesdropping, which they weren’t. He leaned in close to Widow and spoke in a near whisper.

  “Guess you noticed my wife dropping hints about my daughter being single?”

  He moved back to his leaning position. Widow smiled.

  “Was pretty obvious.”

  Abe said nothing to that. He just chuckled to himself and puffed the cigar.

  Widow said, “I am interested in your offer to crash in one of the rooms.”

  Abe nodded and said, “The sandman gets us all. No matter how much coffee you drink. You need to rest. It’s the human condition. Our biggest weakness, we all gotta sleep.”

  Widow nodded and followed it up with a yawn that wasn’t fake.

  Abe took a last puff of the cigar. He pushed through the screen door, stayed half inside the house, and put out the lit end of the cigar on a brick wall on the exterior of the back porch. Then he returned to the house, shut the door, and set the cigar on a windowsill.

  “Come with me. I’ll show you to an empty room.”

  Abe walked past him and up a flight of stairs. Widow followed. The rest of the family followed them with their eyes from their living room stations.

  Walter was the only one to ask.

  “Going to take a nap, Widow?”

  “Mr. Widow’s tired. Let’s try to keep it down so he can get a couple hours sleep,” Abe said.

  “We’ll see you later then, Mr. Widow,” Maggie called up.

  Foster said, “Nice to meet you.”

  Widow waved back down to her and the rest of them. He followed behind Abe up the stairs.

  The top landing was visible from the family room. After that, the stairs vanished into the ceiling.