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The drivejust twenty minutes out of the city seems longer than it typically is. Not for traffic, but because my heart hurts for the man I’ve hated my whole life. And today, I can’t find any reason why I hate him.
My mom’s Bentley Flying Spur sits in front of the circular driveway. It’s what Karla drives whenever my mother is in her care. Mom uses Karla more for the company than the security. Karla opens the door as I’m about to ring the doorbell. I have access to the house and the security code, but she must be manning the front door.
“Mr. Xander,” Karla greets me, and for as long as I remember, she has called me Mr. Xander. “This is a nice surprise. Your mom has a hair appointment, but I can reschedule. She’d rather see you.”
“Yes, please cancel her appointment. Do you know if Mom has spoken to Martina Farmer today?”
“Miss Marty? No, I don’t believe she has. I can always tell because, besides you, she makes your mama happy. Miss Marty is her only true friend.”
I know this, but with the way my face remains sullen and no smile accompanying Karla’s fondness of Mrs. Farmer, she understands this is bad news.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Xander?” she asks.
I turn around to find my mom coming down the steps, and Karla squeezes my hand. “I’ll make that phone call in the kitchen if you need me at all.”
My mom’s face beams with happiness, and Karla isn’t wrong. She’s most happy with Mrs. Farmer or me.
“Xander, my dear boy. To what do I owe this honor, and on a Wednesday, none the less.” My mother’s face locks onto my sullen expression. “Oh, dear. What’s wrong?” She hurries closer to me, and I bring her to a bench in the foyer. “Xander, sweetheart, you’re scaring me.”
This is the worst news I’ve ever had to deliver. Jackson Farmer is not only my mom’s best friend’s husband, he was always kind to my mother, unlike my father.
I begin with the truth. “There’s been an accident.” I start by telling her of Jackson Farmer’s passing. I’ll never forget the grief on her face. It’s no surprise when she asks me to drive her over to the Farmers’ home right away, and because I won’t say no to her, I do as she asks.
9
CLARK
I’m on my porch, staring at the land my father loved. Everything about my dad will now be in the past tense. How is it that I was hugging him goodnight two nights ago when they had Jen and me out for dinner, and now he’s a memory?
JJ is with Ma. I had to take a breather from inside, where my mother took a vase and threw it into the kitchen window. The force knocked the glass clear from the frame, and Jen was outside for twenty minutes sweeping it up. I couldn’t watch her grieve for Dad when I have yet to come to terms with his passing.
My eyes reach as far as the barn. It’s less than a five-minute walk from the white picket fence surrounding the house. When we first moved here, Dad insisted that every barn had to be painted red, where it had been the color of dark wood. JJ and I hated every moment of painting that barn, but now it holds so many tender moments we shared with our father.
I’ve yet to call anyone, like my ma’s sister, Aunt Marie, or my dad’s brother, Uncle Joel. But a car makes its way up the long driveway, and I immediately recognize it. The car is always so out of place when she comes to visit, but I shouldn’t be surprised Liz Lynol is here. After all, Xander had to have seen my breakdown this morning.
I can’t put into words what it’s like to know my father isn’t going to exit the barn or sit down next to me with a large glass of iced tea. And as Liz approaches, Xander is with her. He accompanies a distraught Mrs. Lynol up the walkway to our large wrap-around porch and stops several feet from me.
“Clark, sweetheart, I’m so very sorry.” She makes herself at home on the dusty front porch in what has to be a thousand-dollar dress or more. But Mrs. Lynol has never been pretentious, unlike her asshole son, who stares off into the distance.
“Thanks, Mrs. Lynol. My ma isn’t doing well.” I point to the open window, void of glass, in the frame.
Liz looks behind her, but an impending storm is brewing in the distance. I’ve already told myself when I work up the courage to walk to the barn, knowing my father won’t be there, I’ll grab heavy-duty plastic along with tape.
“Xander, honey, can you please take care of that for me? Call Joe Perino. He’ll come out right away.”
I want to object and tell her it’s unnecessary. Still, I can’t think right now, let alone make the window weatherproof before the sky falls.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lynol. And I know my ma will need you.”
She places her arms around my shoulder. “I know you know this, Clark, but your father was one of the best men I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I’m telling you right now, you need anything, and I mean anything in this world, all you have to do is ask me, okay?”
I turn to the sweet smile of Mrs. Lynol. She’s a small-framed woman with green eyes and blond hair. She’s always put together like her son, but she’s one of the most authentic people I’ve known.
She hops off the porch and begins speaking in hushed tones to Xan. I hear something about food, and I tune the rest out.
She passes me on her way to find my ma. “Clark, honey. I’m here to help you. I hope that’s okay. I’ll take care of food and the window, but you must promise to let me know what else you need.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I reply, though asking for help is hard. Like my father and my brother, it comes naturally.
