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Tim was sitting on the couch watching a game when Tyra casually walked over and plopped down, tossing her long bare legs over his. Becky, was sitting in the armchair with a pad and pen, writing notes for her upcoming pageant speech.
Without thinking, Tim slid his palm over Tyra’s leg, back and forth, as he took a swig of beer. She winked and smiled at him, looking content.
( Read more... )
“Hey Tyra...,” Becky said in a forced polite tone. “Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has been so sweet to me. Ran my dad’s ass out of town, and my wicked stepmother. Sorry to interrupt you two. Mindy wanted me to tell you dinner’s ready in 20 minutes.”
“Wow, what time is it?,” Tyra said. “Time sure flies, doesn’t it…” She looked at Tim and bit her lip, pushed her hair off her face.
Tim had gotten up and offered Tyra his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go inside.”
Tyra went to wash up before dinner. Tim and Becky were setting the table, and Becky kept apologizing nervously as they navigated around one another.
“What’s up, Becks?,” Tim asked. He already knew, of course.
“I just didn’t realize you and Tyra…” she trailed off.
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Billy rubbed his forehead again, a habit of his that expressed pretty much every emotion. This time it was happy disbelief.
“You’re tellin’ me that Mom wants you to help her build a house on this property that her aunt left her, on Red Ridge Lake? And that she wants us back in her life?,” Billy asked, shaking his head.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Billy,” Tim said, levitating Stevie like an airplane. “Honest to god, she seems for real about this reconciling crap. If I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t believe it either. She was real sick, ya know. I think coming that close to meeting her maker made her think about stuff.”
“Yeah, well don’t forget how she just up and abandoned us with that son-of-a-bitch,” Billy said. “It’s not like I can just erase all that, those years when I was responsible for feeding you.”
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Tim packed the last of his few belongings into his duffel bag and sat down on the cot, chin resting on his clasped hands.
Oddly enough, he’d kind of miss the Nest, where he didn’t have to make many choices, just do his chores and shut his lights off by 10. He’d even made a few friends.
Then again, he’d be back with Billy, Mindy and Stevie. Oh, and Becky, who had moved into his old room.
Pretty ironic, he finally gets out of jail and the halfway house, and he still has nowhere to sleep.
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Just had to share the greatest gift ever received,
or at least of the year.
Currently drinking tea, I mean, uh, te-quila, from it.
Texas forever!
They pulled up outside the halfway house 20 minutes earlier than Tim had predicted. He had to call his parole officer from the house phone by a certain time, or he’d earn a demerit. Enough demerits and the board holds a hearing on prolonging your parole.
Becky started to open her door, and Tim grabbed her wrist.
“Wait,” he said quietly. “Let’s just sit here for a few. I got like 15 minutes.” He gestured to his ankle bracelet.
He pulled Becky close and kissed her softly, pulled her face into his neck and hugged her.
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Tim read and re-read the part in the will where his name was mentioned, but he still couldn’t believe it.
When his mother awoke, Tim was sitting right nearby, looking at her.
“Hey,” he said softly. “How you feelin’, Mom?”
She rubbed her eyes. “Alright. I’ve felt worse. Could I have some water, honey?” she asked.
He helped her drink several swallowfuls.
She noticed the will sitting on her night table.
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Walt shook Becky’s hand, hanging onto it a little too long. She forced herself to smile, apprehensive after what she’d heard about him. Also for all she hadn’t heard about him.
“Let’s go into the living room, leave Mom to rest for a bit,” Tim said, teeth gritted, ushering Becky out with a hand at the small of her back. He shut her door behind him.
“This your little filly, Timmy? What happened to that Garrity girl you were so whipped over last time I saw you? Never could understand how that fat snake oil salesman Buddy could produce a hot lil thing like what’s-her-name. Damn, she’s fine.”
Tim shook his head and looked away, like he was counting to ten.
He was counting to ten.
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Tim hung up the phone. His talk with his dad had gone better than expected.
Jail had hardened him some, but it also made him realize he should try and appreciate those around him more. So part of trying to be a better person included being nice to a father you’d mostly resented your whole life.
It turned out his mom was sick and had called her ex Walt to come and fix the water heater. Her second husband, and father of Melissa, was on a “business trip.” Seems he was frequently away for work, or so he said. Some things never changed.
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Tim heard a tentative knock on the door as he put a neatly folded grey t-shirt into the second drawer of his small dresser and gently slid it shut.
The shirt, which he’d just taken off, was one of the meager belongings he was allowed to keep at the halfway house where he was serving the remainder of his shortened term.
Six months in jail, then six months at The Nest, about ten miles outside Dillon.( Read more... )
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