by Frost, Sosie
“Think we used up all our miracles for the Christmas Pageant.”
Tidus tossed a paper plate aside and edged me away from the window. “What the hell is going on?”
Hell didn’t have much to do with it, but I knew which little imp caused the problems.
The churchgoers abandoned their food and fled from the picnic. They covered their noses and mouths and bundled their children tight as they ran across the yards.
“God save us!” A man yelled.
“This is retribution, it is!” An elderly woman waved a Bible. “A new plague!”
“The time of tribulations!”
“The Apocalypse!”
“Laundry day!”
The wind shifted.
And the stench came for us.
It was foul. Rotten.
A blend of fermented meat, cat urine, crusty socks.
And it completely overwhelmed the sweet, delightful smoke caressing my meat.
“Oh God.” My stomach heaved. I burst out of the truck, searching for anything but stagnant air. The smell was worse outside—thick, moist, and angry. “What is that?”
“Stink bombs.” Tidus ripped off his apron. “Except the idiot set off three too many.”
“This is terrible.”
“Only gonna get worse.”
New screams echoed from the playground. A herd of churchgoers raced away from the sight, stopping only to spit into the bushes.
Abigail led the charge, fleeing from the hotdog-turned-coleslaw eating contest.
The cries rose over the crowd.
“It’s horrible!”
“The mayonnaise!”
“The cabbage!”
“Who would do such a thing to us?”
Abigail wailed to the heavens. “Everyone has lost this day!”
Tidus began to laugh. “It’s not a real Butterpond community event unless God forsakes us.”
I didn’t find it so funny.
Within minutes, the church was deserted. The dozens of people still waiting for their food had scattered. My stomach heaved again.
All that food wasted.
All that revenue gone.
And that repair bill…looming.
“It’ll clear out, right?” I covered my face. “I just bought all this food. I needed those customers!”
Tidus said nothing, searching the abandoned picnic tables. With a shout, he took off running, but he was far quicker than the choking, sputtering, laughing kid who had seized a front-row seat to the shenanigans. He hauled Spencer back to the truck and grunted.
“Are you that stupid that you’d stay at the scene of the crime?” Tidus asked. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
Spencer pinched his nose. “Geeze. It really stinks.”
“You used too many bombs, genius.”
“I used as many as you said I should!”
I slapped Tidus’s shoulder. He ducked away before the next blow hit.
“First off…” He pointed at Spencer. “I never told you to use them. Secondly, that was a story about how I used to set them off at school to get out of tests. It was a cautionary tale.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Means you’re in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Spencer shrugged. “Oh, come on. It was funny!”
Tidus shook his head. “Am I laughing?”
“You were. I saw it.”
He grunted. “Am I laughing now? Is Honey laughing?”
He did not want to tag me in for this fight.
I felt bad for the kid…to an extent. Eleven years old was an age where he should have known right from wrong, good from bad, and manners from absolute chaos.
I leaned against the truck with a sigh, pulling my scarf over my nose to mask the horrific smell.
“I guess there’s no sense in cooking anymore…” I hated the thought of wasting so much meat. “The picnic is ruined.”
Spencer kicked at a rock on the ground, accidentally punting it into Tidus’s shin. “Hey, does that mean we can go play ball now?”
Tidus ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Jesus, Spence. You could at least apologize.”
“Oh.” He mumbled. “Sorry.”
“And you can mean it.”
“I do!”
“Bullshit.”
Tidus didn’t need to yell. Spencer idolized the man—though I had yet to determine if that was a good thing. The boy couldn’t look at him, just kept his head down, rooting through the dirt with a ratty sneaker.
Sure, he didn’t care about the picnic, but he hated Tidus’s disappointment.
“You gotta realize pranks have consequences, kid,” Tidus said. “For Christ’s sake, everyone is gonna get pissed off—especially your Uncle Varius. This was his first picnic back at the congregation. You know how important it was to him.”
“Didn’t do it to upset Uncle V.”
“Well, you’re not making many friends pulling shit like this. And believe me—a kid like you is gonna need all the friends he can make.”
Spencer shrugged hard, huffing his breath. “Okay. I get it.”
“Don’t think you do.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t do it again. Please don’t tell Aunt Cassi?”
If I had any money to wager, I’d bet Cassi already knew damn well what happened.
At least Tidus and Spencer retained some optimism.
“Don’t do it again.” Tidus rubbed his face. “I’m not lying for you. If she asks me, I’ll tell her the truth.”
“And if she doesn’t ask?”
Tidus sighed. “Better get your glove while you’re still ungrounded.”
Spencer’s grin grew. “You mean it?”
“Sure. Won’t be able to play once Aunt Cassi grinds you up for hamburgers.” Tidus smirked. “Though I bet Honey would toss you on the grill.”
Spencer cheered. “Don’t. Go. Anywhere. I gotta go get my stuff. I’ll be right back.”
The boy took off, stumbling over a gravel path as he raced towards the picnic area.
Fortunately for Spencer, his fall was broken as he collided with a pretty woman escorting her elderly grandmother across the church grounds.
Unfortunately for Spencer…
The old lady was the Widow Barlow.
Spencer was an agile enough kid to dodge her cane. He sprinted away before she connected a solid hit across his knees. That only made her more cross.
“A shame what’s happened to the child.” Widow Barlow’s voice struck as sharp as her cane. “That boy needs discipline and guidance, not lessons in misconduct from Tidus Payne. He’d be better off living on the streets than mentored by someone as worthless as that man.”
Spencer didn’t hear it.
Tidus did.
But he said nothing—nothing to defend his honor, his accomplishments, or even his progress towards a new and better life. He allowed the woman to berate him. Welcomed the hatred and distain.
No matter how many addictions Tidus conquered or personal demons he vanquished, he believed her every word.
It wasn’t the alcohol, drugs, or fights that would steal his life. It was his own pride. His damaged soul. His broken heart.
He could deny it all he wanted, but his hatred for himself would destroy him.
Tidus Payne was a man who never lied. So why couldn’t he see the truth?
Tidus whistled, summoning Spencer. His voice lowered as he cast a sidelong glance at a bristling Widow Barlow.
“Guys like us aren’t welcomed here.” Tidus pushed the boy towards the parking lot. “Let’s get back to the garage.”
Spencer frowned. “But I wanted to practice in the park—”
“Later.”
The pain in his voice tore through me. I reached for Tidus. “Wait. I can come too—”
Tidus shook his head. “You heard her. Don’t waste your time with me. Bargain’s off. Sorry about the…” He gestured over the field, his words breaking into profanity. “Fuck it
. Come on, Spence.”
The two stormed off. Only Spencer glanced back.
And it broke my heart.
And my wallet.
The stink bombs ruined the picnic. Nothing left for me to do but put away what I could save, clean up, and count every last penny I’d lost. Razor thin margins meant every dollar I’d wasted was another gallon of gas or entry fee I couldn’t afford.
So much for the Mid-Atlantic Smoker-Skirmish next week.
How many more could I miss? The answer made me sicker than the stink bombs.
A soft knock rattled the door. Cassi hopped up the stairs, peeking inside only to groan.
“They’re not here?” she asked.
“Just missed them. Tidus took Spence to play ball.”
“Are you kidding me? After the mess Spence caused today, Tidus took him to play?”
I rummaged through my mini-fridge. Only one beer. I hummed, but Cassi needed it more than me. I offered it to her.
“Thank you.” Cassi pressed the cool can to her temple and sighed. “I nanny for Rem’s nieces, and I thought they were a handful. But Spence…he’s out of control. The only other person I’ve ever known to cause that much trouble is Tidus. And lately…” She tapped her nails against the side of the can. “Lately I think Tidus needs more supervision than even the kid. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“Oh…” I bit my lip. “I don’t think he’s that bad.”
“Honey, you’re the type who only sees the good in people…” Cassi shrugged. “I love my brother. I love him so much he probably thinks I hate him. But believe me…he’s not someone who can be fixed. If you try, you’re only setting yourself up for failure—or worse.”
Cassi’s words stung worse than the Widow Barlow’s callous insults.
The secret wasn’t fair. Not to me. Not to Tidus.
And not to the woman who seemed to love him most.
“I think he might surprise you,” I said.
Cassi smirked. “Tidus always surprises me, but that doesn’t mean I’d let him hurt a nice girl like you.”
“He hasn’t hurt me yet.”
“Then leave while you can. Whether he realizes it or not, Tidus eventually destroys everyone. Believe me, Honey. He’s bad for you.”
Oh, I knew that much. It wasn’t a surprise. I tangled with that truth a dozen times a day, and it only got worse at night. But I was stronger than I looked. I could handle the complications.
Question was…
Could Tidus?
“I know he’s bad for me.” At least admitting it was the first step to recovery. I smiled at Cassi, fully prepared to make the mistake of a lifetime. “It’s just…I think I might be good for him.”
9
Tidus
Sometimes the only solace a man had left was his privacy.
The knock at the door shattered that.
I didn’t bother standing up, just grunted to let them in. This late at night, the only person who’d bother crossing town to talk to me was one hell of a sorry soul.
Or maybe…a perfect one.
Honey had no business wandering up to my apartment after midnight. Yet there she was. Smiling. Shrugging a hello. Closing the door behind her.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Thought I’d check on you.”
If she’d been any other woman at any other time, I would’ve assumed she wanted to get fucked.
But with Honey? I got the feeling she actually cared.
For someone who never made any mistakes in life, she made plenty when it came to me.
“Don’t gotta worry about me.” I crossed my arms behind my head. “I’ve taken care of myself for this long.”
“Have you?”
Not really. “Well, I’ve taken care of myself for the past three months.”
Honey surveyed my apartment. It wasn’t much. Couch and TV in the corner. Galley kitchen collecting dust across the hall. Two bedrooms, one mine, the other for Quint when he didn’t want to take a girl back to the farm. The bathroom did the job. Nothing for a lady, but the shower washed most of the garage grease away.
But Honey didn’t judge. She joined me on the couch, tucking her leg under her body. She twisted the silver can in my hand, peeking at the label.
“Relax,” I said. “It’s La Croix. Pretty sure the name is French for utter shit.”
Honey laughed. “Then why are you drinking it?”
“It’s bitter.”
“You like bitter?”
“Reminds me of what I could be drinking.” No. That wasn’t right. Usually I didn’t care what I said, cared even less about what people thought. But Honey was the only goddamned person who listened to me. She made it worth giving a damn. “It reminds me of what I shouldn’t be drinking.”
“Do you like it?” She took a sip and crinkled her nose. “Didn’t take you for a coconut kind of guy.”
And she still didn’t judge me. Instead, she asked more questions. That curiosity would’ve landed anyone else on my shit list. But from her? Hell, it was almost flattering.
Never had a woman care enough to ask inane questions about the disgusting mineral water.
Never had anyone press so hard, dig so deep, or annoy the piss out of me.
Honey shouldn’t have cared about me. What the hell did I do to make her give a damn?
And how did I convince her that getting to know me would be the worst decision of her life?
“When was the last time you had a drink?” she asked.
I didn’t want to remember, but I’d probably never forget it. “The day of my nephew’s baptism.”
“You drank at a baptism?”
I had some class. “No. I binged the night before. Didn’t wake up in time. Missed the whole damned thing.”
Honey softened her voice. “Oh. You must’ve felt awful.”
What did it matter how I felt?
“My family was pissed,” I said. “It was more than my nephew’s baptism. My brother returned to the church that day, did the ceremony. He’s practically the Saint of Butterpond, and the town was fucking ecstatic when he came back.”
“They’re still so excited.”
“And they should be. V belongs in the church. Christ, I’m the one who pushed him to return. Figured once he stepped behind the pulpit again, my job would be done. But I was too fucked up myself to realize he still needed me. He needed all of us. The man lived through a nightmare. You don’t get over that sort of bullshit.”
Honey nodded. “Oh. I see now.”
“See what?”
“Why you really didn’t go to the baptism.”
I rubbed my face. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well…” She shifted closer to me. “From what I’ve heard about Pastor Varius Payne…his return to the church was pretty miraculous. Everyone thought he was lost, that he’d never come back or even regain his faith. Then, suddenly, he gets that push he needs and—bam. He’s not only preaching, he’s proposed to a beautiful woman and is planning to adopt her baby. That’s a lot of amazing, awesome things to happen to one man.”
“What’s your point?”
Honey posed the question with a gentleness only she possessed. “Maybe, on the day of the baptism, you were upset that he found his way…but you couldn’t.”
She never expected honesty from me. Didn’t matter. I’d always give it to her.
“Probably,” I said. The word was too gruff, too harsh for the compassion she offered. “Who knows what I thought at the time. I wasn’t in a logical, rational, sober state of mind.”
“But you are now.”
Yeah, but for how much longer?
Honey’s smile was a dangerous drug. One little smirk and I’d be forever addicted.
“And you seem to be doing good for yourself…” Honey crinkled her nose and reached for a nearby lamp. “Except you’re sitting here in the dark in the middle of the night.”
“I’m testing myself.”
“Testing
…what?”
She wouldn’t understand. “I don’t trust myself in the quiet.”
“Can you go somewhere else?”
I sipped the sparkling water. It tasted foul, but it didn’t have the kick I needed for this conversation.
“I could head back to the farm,” I said. “But the house is a little crowded nowadays. Family keeps making more family.”
Honey nudged me. “Most people think that’s a good thing.”
“Probably is. For some people.”
“For you?”
A woman like her couldn’t understand why a man like me would never think such a thing were possible. A stable life. Staying healthy. Finding love. Having kids.
But that’s one of the things I liked about Honey—her irritating optimism.
“I should take care of myself first, Honeybee,” I said.
Her words gentled. “Is that why you disappear sometimes?”
Oh Christ.
I didn’t want to talk about the trips to Ironfield. Wasn’t it enough to just discuss my mistakes, lost opportunities, and shit reputation?
“I don’t disappear,” I said.
She didn’t believe me. Smart girl.
“Come on,” she said. “Every once in a while, you leave. Poof. No one knows where you go or what you do.”
How could I explain it to her? Where I was going. The answers I needed about myself.
Who I thought I’d find.
“It’s nothing…just time away from…all of this shit.” I exhaled. “When Rem got clean, he did it all cold turkey. Six years ago, he left my little sister with a broken heart, but he knew it was the best thing for her. Last thing he wanted was to marry her then, ruin her life, knock her up, then have her bury him. He left everything behind, joined a logging company somewhere in Buttfuck, Canada, and worked his ass off in isolation to get better. He stayed there for five years to get away from anything that might have tempted him. And he’s only stayed here now because he’s completely sober.”
Honey stole a sip of my water and made a face. “I don’t think you’re running away to Canada though.”
“Hell no. I’m not freezing my balls off just to avoid beer.”
“So…where do you go?”
“I don’t want to get into it,” I said. Her expression crumpled, and I shrugged. “Look, I got a sponsor. There're meetings and shit. Supposed to keep me on track or something. Who the hell knows if it’s working.”
