Page 65 of Saints & Sailors

“I’m not sure what I could do to mend that bridge. I didn’t ask Rick to take my side, but I’m family, so he just did it off the strength of that.”

I closed my food up, now interested in eating it later.

Dreux came and propped his arms on the table. “So, I’m not the golden boy you think I am.”

“No,” I disagreed. “You did your shit out of anger. Everything I’ve ever done was out of pleasure. I can’t say I blame Bonham for hating you, though.”

“Yeah, me too sometimes.”

“You told me he was bad news, and you’re the reason he failed the twelfth grade and got his license suspended.”

“I didn’t make him drive,” Dreux shot back with little conviction in his voice.

“But it was your idea that got him out the door.” I shook my head. That was like me blaming Jack for my crashing the police cruiser and landing me here in Meadow Grove. He’d played a part in my breaking into my school that night, but it was my own doing that landed me where I was. “I take it back, we’re all responsible for our own actions.”

“Don’t just say that because you think you’ve hurt me,” said Dreux.

“No, I get it. The reason why I’m here? I got faded and drunk one night and my friend convinced me to break into my high school so he could get his jacket from my locker. A cop showed up, but we got away, or we would’ve if I didn’t steal his cruiser and crash it.”

Dreux’s eyes enlarged. “Shit.”

“Yeah, my mom’s also married to an attorney. He got me off, and because it wasn’t my first time, they made some deal with the judge to ship me off instead of throwing me in the slammer. That’s how I ended up with Scott, a stranger I don’t even know.” I studied the customers walking around the produce department as the whole situation weighed me down. “I mean, I knew I had a father and it wasn’t Richard, but it was never a real issue until she shipped me here.”

“So out of nowhere she decided to just send you to your dad?”

I shrugged. “Basically. I didn’t even know she had his information. It’s completely random.”

Dreux couldn’t deny this. “In all your seventeen years, you’ve never met or spoken to Scott?”

“No.”

Dreux appeared confused. “So why did he say yes?”

The million-dollar question. “I don’t know.”

And the scary part was, I was afraid to ask.

Through her kindness, I discovered Monday evening that I wasn’t yet cut off financially from my mother’s account. Dreux was nice enough to take me to the nearest hardware store after we were done helping at both the barbershop and hair salon. It was at the hardware store that I bought a few gallons of pure black paint. Dreux said nothing as I made my purchase; he simply offered to carry the jugs for me to the car, and when I said no, he did it anyway.

My mind was still buzzing about our talk at Marty’s. I saw Dreux in a new light. He was still very much a golden boy to me, even if he’d momentarily slipped and lost his way.

What I reflected on most was my unresolved issues with Scott.

When I got in that night, I moved all my furniture to the center of my room and placed down the protective lining along the walls before starting to paint. I put on some music and got lost as I painted my walls black. Somewhere in the background I vaguely recalled Scott stopping by and noticing me at work. He merely told me dinner was down in the kitchen when I was ready before leaving me be.

There was nothing else said, even though there was a lot to be said.

I painted my room black to make it match what I felt inside.

When my body was aching and tired, I showered and slept in our guest room, skipping dinner altogether.

I waited another day or so before confronting Scott, who was off from work Wednesday afternoon. He was in his work room, tinkering around with something, and when I poked my head inside, I found that it was a guitar he was working on.

Scott’s work room was more his music room. He had an array of bass guitars, a piano, and tons of photos of famous musicians. Jimi Hendrix, Freddie Mercury, Prince, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, and of course Pink Floyd.

Scott was lost in his own mind as he seemed to be fixing a guitar string. For a while, I watched him, at total peace with the universe. Maybe we were more alike than I even knew. When I was feeling lost, angry, or hurt, I turned to music and I was almost certain the look on Scott’s face was the same one I often wore.

In another moment, Scott lifted his head and spotted me. His mouth drew into a flatline. I could see on his face that our civil war was draining him as well.