One Second After [20]
"A guy like that drunk last night, he can sense it if you are not really going to shoot. You make it clear you're not taking," John hesitated, "not taking any shit and chances are you'll go through life and never have to pull a trigger."
"OK, Dad."
He forced a smile. "I'm just being paranoid, sweetie. Keep Jennifer close by; if Pat comes up to play, so much the better." "What about Ben?" He hesitated. Jen was inside. "No problem."
"He really is a sweet guy, Dad, if you'd give him a chance." He nodded. "I know that."
"Why do you dislike him so much, Dad?" "You know." She smiled.
"Like he's going to get beyond a little making out with me? I think you used to call it past first base."
He stiffened a bit; it was the first time she was even being slightly direct.
All the "female"-related issues he had left to the care of Grandma Jen, including "the talks," other than the traditional old-style father routine of glaring at any boy who started to hang around.
John knew he wasn't much of a father for this new century, maybe a bit old-fashioned, but that was the way he was raised .. . and he had assumed for so many years that such things were Mary's territory.
"It's because of Mom in a way, isn't it?"
"How's that?"
"You know. We lost Mom, but you lost your wife, your friend and companion. Jennifer and I, we're filling in for some of the loss, and down deep you hate the thought that we're growing up and, in doing that, eventually we're moving away from you as well."
He didn't say anything, a bit startled by her insight.
"What makes you think that?"
"Oh, the therapist we went to after Mom died. But it's the truth, Dad. It's OK.
"I love you, Daddy; I always will," she said, going up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "You'll always be my number one guy."
He hugged her, eyes filled with tears. "Thanks, honey."
They stepped back from each other, both feeling a bit awkward. "I'll see what I can work up for breakfast," she said, and went back into the kitchen.
"Your girl is definitely growing up." It was Jen coming up to him, offering a second cup of coffee.
He sniffled a bit, nodded, then smiled.
"Mary was like that at sixteen. Wise beyond her years. Used to throw Tyler for a loop sometimes."
John drank the second cup. It was cooling, but that didn't matter, though two cups and two cigarettes without a breakfast did make his stomach feel a bit jumpy.
"You mind if I borrow the monster, go downtown, and see what is going on?"
"No," and she smiled. "The Mustang, though, that's still a different story."
As he drove past the interstate all the cars were exactly where they had been the night before. The road was empty, except for a lone trucker, sitting in his cab, door open, puffing on a cigar, the driver waving to John. It was the guy from the night before, and the sight of him was a reassurance.
John felt a bit of relief, fearful that something ugly might have indeed happened down here during the night, but all was quiet, no sign of any problems.
Coming up State Street, he passed the elementary school. The front door was propped open, and for a second he wondered if indeed school was open today but then realized that all the school buses were still parked in the lot. There was a hand-lettered sign out front: "Emergency Shelter."
Pete's Barbecue House, the restaurant across the street, had volunteered their big outdoor grill, the kind used at festivals and fairs, and there was Pete, set up in front of the school, wearing his absurd pink apron and pink chef's hat with a smiling pig painted on it, a couple of kettles on the grill, a line formed for coffee and barbecue for breakfast. Typical of Pete, always there for the town.
John honked and Pete looked up in surprise, as did those on the line, and Pete waved.
The light up ahead was off and John had to slow down, half a dozen cars blocking the road. It forced him to swing over to the eastbound side and he came to a stop first, looking both ways. It felt absurd doing it. Of course there was no traffic in sight other