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“Catch ya later,” Salem says, then disconnects the call.
I toss my phone to the bed and down my now lukewarm coffee on the way to the bathroom to grab a shower before heading to town.
I pull up to Bishop’s in my old but reliable 1971 Ford F-250 truck almost an hour later. The hinges creak as I swing open the driver’s door. She’s not pretty, with a rusted-out hole in the passenger floorboard concealed beneath the worn rubber mat or the faded once-vibrant red paint on the hood, not to mention the body bears the scars of numerous dings and dents. Yet, despite her imperfections, my truck always gets me where I need to go. I walk inside the store, where I’m greeted by Bishop, who is stocking some shelves.
“Harlem.” He stops what he’s doing to shake my hand. “Salem said to look out for you. How have you been?”
“Makin’ it.”
“It’s all any of us can do.” Bishop turns and motions for me to follow. “I stacked the requested merchandise over there,”
I follow him to the other side of the store near the register. Bending down, I lift some boxes off the floor and head for the exit.
“Here, let me help,” Bishop says, but I’m already heading outside.
I set the boxes in the truck’s bed, then turn to see Bishop walking towards me, pushing a dolly with the rest of the boxes
“If there’s one thing this old man has learned over the years, it’s to work smarter, not harder. Although I sang a different tune when I was young and in shape like you.” He laughs.
I close the tailgate and face Bishop. “Appreciate it.”
“You take care, Harlem.”
My reply is a sharp nod. Then I walk to the front of my truck, get behind the wheel, and drive away.
Taking advantage of having the truck in town today, I swing by the hardware store to see if Billy has the new tools and lumber I ordered to fix the boat dock out at my place. It’s been needing repairs for a while now, and with the weather warming up, I can finally get it done without freezing my balls off.
Pete spots me the moment I stroll through the door. “Harlem.” He approaches me, and I can’t help but notice the dark circles beneath his eyes. “How’s it going?” He extends his hand, and I shake it.
“Good.”
I eye the kid for a beat. I’ve known Pete for a few months since Billy gave him a job. He’s an intelligent kid, but life threw him a curveball when his mom was diagnosed with a type of dementia that progresses rapidly. The young man dropped out of school recently and enrolled in GED classes to work full time because he needed the extra money to meet his mom’s needs.
“How’s your mom?”
The weariness reflected in his eyes is a stark contrast to the smile he fakes. “She has good days and bad.” Then he rubs the back of his neck. “The doctor says it won’t be long until Mom has to be somewhere with 24-hour care.”
“Fuck, man. Sorry to hear that.” I clasp his shoulder, and Pete hangs his head.
“Yeah.” He swallows hard, then lifts his head. “Thank you, by the way, for coming out to my place the other week, along with Mystic, to help me and Billy build wheelchair ramps on the front and back of our house.”
“Don’t mention it.” I squeeze his shoulder, then drop my hand. Sensing that a change of subject will do Pete some good, I ask, “Have my lumber order and the tools arrived yet?”
“Yeah. It came in on the truck this morning. Come on around to the loading bay.”
“Appreciate it.” I nod, and we both walk away, heading in opposite directions. I head back outside, climb into my truck, and pull around to the back of the building. Over the next several minutes, Pete and I load the building materials into the bed of my truck. I set the newly purchased circular saw and multiple boxes of wood screws in the cab.
“Harlem.” Billy appears, in a good mood as usual. “Good to see you.”
“Same.” I toss straps across the beams of lumber to secure the load, then tie a few red caution streamers on the ends.
“Salem came in the other day with Sage and the baby. Fatherhood looks good on him, wouldn’t you say?” Billy states.
“Yep.” I agree.
Fatherhood hasn’t changed Salem in any negative way. It’s made him more aware of the things in his life. The happiness he’s found with Sage—with his family—often makes me question if what he has is the one thing I’m missing.
“It’s good of you to be helping Sukie and her mom.” He eyes me. “I just needed you to know that. Those two women have been through the muck of life. It warms my heart to see them finally experience the better parts of humanity.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and adds, “Well, I see you’re a busy man, so I’ll leave you to it,” Billy waves. “Take care.”
