SAGE
May 15th
A smoky room. The sound of wood striking heavy porcelain. I sit by the bar smoking a cigar and nursing a glass of gin and tonic. The doors to Luke's swing open to the sound of heels quickly clicking across the tiled floor. I know those sounds.
A damsel in distress.
"Help! ANYBODY!" She calls. "I'm looking for Sage Walker."
The commotion in the bar stops. Nobody says a word. Even the jukebox goes silent.
I stab the end of my cigar in a glass astray, giving it few twists for good measure. I slowly turn. My hat real low. I don't look up.
"That would be me," I drawl.
"Oh thank God!" she gushes and rushes over to me. She grabs the front of my shirt and nearly knocks my hat to the ground. I look up and stare into the eyes of the beautiful Colbie Caillat.
All of sudden the room goes dark and a spotlight shines on her slender frame. She's wearing a ruby red dress, her golden tresses falling in Farah Fawcett waves around her head, she dazzles me.
A microphone is lowered and she croons in acapella. She pauses and looks at me expectantly. I find that a second spotlight has appeared... on me! Not just that. I have a guitar in my hands. Not just any guitar. A polished D-28 six string made of the finest East Indian Rosewood with ebony at the fingerboard and bridge.
I don't have to whistle and admire the glossy beauty. I got one in the flesh calling my name, beckoning me with her song. So I pull out the pick I somehow know is in my front pocket and I begin to play.
Colbie's voice curls around me like warm honey. She saunters towards me, plays two hands on either of my shoulder blades, leans forward her ample bosom and whispers in my ear...
"WAKE UP, SAGE! COME ON NOW!" The bed trembles as Lucy, my little sister, jumps up and down and up and down. I groan, bringing a heavy hand down my face.
"Luce, do you ever get tired jumping around like that?"
"Nope!" she squealed continuing to use my bed like a trampoline.
I opened one eye and spied on my little five year old sister in a yellow polka dot dress and jelly sandals. Her soft chestnut hair was already in ribbons curling at the nape of her neck. With each leap, the coils soared. Her bright blue eyes caught mine.
"MOMMA SAYS YOU GOTTA TAKE ME TO SCHOOL TODAY!"
"Well must you yell?" I inquired. She couldn't help it. She got excited about any old thing. "Don't answer that. Just get down before you hurt yourself."
Both eyes were open now and I stared at the ceiling. She didn't stop.
"Alright. You done it now!" I yelled. She squealed in laughter as she anticipated my next move. I sat up quickly lunging after her. I managed to grab her by the waist, pick up her tiny little body and tickle her mercilessly. Her peels of laughter echoed throughout the room like wind-chimes. Her cheeks grew rosy.
"Arrgggghh" I fake growled at her. "Now you're my prisoner, forever and ever," I teased.
"Sage, honey. You'll ruin her dress," chided my mother from the doorway. "Both of you come down for breakfast."
"I intend to eat my prisoner, woman!" I bellowed like a cave man. This inspired another round of giggles from the little one.
"Now, now." My mother emphasized with a smile and then walked away.
"Well Lucey Goose, looks like play time's over."
She whimpered.
"Don't worry," I winked. "I'll get you after the school." I said in my best barbaric voice. "Come on now, up and at 'em so I can get dressed." She scrambled up like a little squirrel and shot off the bed. As she ran out of the door, I yelled, "Save me some bacon!" Lord knew I loved me some bacon.
For a second I let my hands rest on my knees as I cracked my neck. Suddenly, I dropped to the floor into push-ups.
"One, Two, Three, Four..." I gasped until I reached fifty. Each day I had a routine: push ups, crunches, brush my teeth, go for a jog, come back and shower. Today that routine would have to be cut short because of Lucy. I didn't mind.
After fifty crunches, I padded into the bathroom, grabbed my toothbrush and slathered it with toothpaste. I brush vigorously for a while, spit, rinse and repeat. After the second bout, I rinsed and put my tooth brush away. I stared at myself in the mirror.
My high school football roster said I was 6 ft, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. 175 pounds. All I saw was a scrawny kid with bangs in his eyes. I definitely needed a cut. The "Justin Beiber" references were getting to be too much.
I took a quick shower and dressed in the usual, ripped jeans white shirt and some sort of button down - usually flannel. I tucked my hair under a trucker's cap and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
It was lively as usual. My mother had fresh flowers on the table and it was set for two with my little sister already occupying one of the sets. I sat down in the other and sighed.
"Where's Tucker....Brent? Daddy?"
"There are already up on the farm, honey. Your daddy said to come over when you can."
When I could? What else was there to do around here? I'd been home from school for about two weeks now doing nothing with my life.
Every morning it was like this...I'd wake up and have to have breakfast with only the women of the family because the manly men were already off to work. Don't get me wrong. I loved the women in my family, but after being away from home for a year it would've been nice to get some quality man time. Some father son time. They even took Lassie with 'em. I bet he was having fun running around all those daggone sheep.
It was mornings like these where I sat at the table - elbows off with a napkin tucked under my chin while my mother practically fed me breakfast - that i felt like the men in my family didn't take me seriously.
"Well why didn't they wake me?" I asked. I already knew the answer to this question as well. Same old tune.
"You know, they just thought you should rest and all. You just got back from school. Finals must have taken a lot outta you."
I could hear my brothers now...
Tucker: "Why don't you stay in bed today twinkle toes. Wouldn't want to mess up those pretty little fingers of yours hauling bales of hay."
Daddy: "Leave that boy alone. Who else can play about six thousand instruments? Huh?"
Brent: "And how much do guitar players around here make again?"
I gritted my teeth. Maybe they were laughing at me right this very second.
It was no secret my brothers thought what I was studying in school was a joke. So what if I was a music major. What was so wrong with that? I didn't major in Environmental Studies like Tucker or Business like Brent, but there was something I could do for that farm.
Yeah, I muttered darkly, manual labor. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was just kidding myself. I wanted to be like the men I saw, but deep down I knew I wasn't a farmer at heart.
I let Lucy chatter away with my mother until it was time to go. I pushed away from the table and grabbed her little Dora the Explorer backpack. It was light as a feather. I got to the doorway and extended my hand.
Disentangling herself from my mother's embrace, she scurried over and slid her tiny fingers into mine. I wasn't a farmer's boy at heart and maybe I didn't fit in here, but there was something so right about walking down the dusty road from my house, holding the small hand of a bright eyed little girl singing, clear as a bell, a song called "This Little Light Of Mine."
I clutched her hand just a little tighter and sang right along with her in harmony.
***
After dropping Lucy off, I went to see my friend Kid instead of going to the farm as I intended. He lived about two miles from me in a dusty wooden cabin. Kid and I grew up on my farm together. Before Kid's father died, he was a breeder for my father. We were as thick as thieves even though Kid was two years older. He was the older brother I'd always wanted. That sounded strange I'm sure. The thing is, Kid never teased me growing up. He accepted that I was different because so was he. Unlike myself, Kid did not attend college. Heck, he barely made it through high school. People said Kid never acted his age much, his nickname. He wouldn't have been able to handle the college kid crowd anways. That was fine by me.
Kid was tall. I mean really tall. Damn near seven feet. He had long dirty blonde hair he refused to cut and currently sported a beard. He had a strong lean build from all that cross country running he did in high school. He lived by himself in that dusty cabin and would come over to our house for dinner sometimes when he didn't feel like eating his T.V. dinners. When I drove up, I found him out front cutting wood for a fireplace he didn't have.
"Now what are you gonna do with that?" I hollered out my window as I pulled to a stop beside him.
"Sell 'em," he grunted bringing down the axe hard.
Hmmph. That made sense. I forgot for a moment that while Kid wasn't keen on textbooks or classes for that matter, he was pretty resourceful - always taking on odd jobs and starting little projects. If he would just put his mind to it, I bet he'd be one heck of an entrepreneur.
"You wanna take a ride with me?" I asked. He stopped hacking away at the wood and dropped the axe. Wiping off the beads of sweat from his forehead, he answered, "Sure. Let me just get something from the house."
About a minute later, Kid emerged from his house with a six pack of Sam Adams, didn't even bother to close the front door. You didn't have to worry about robbers 'round these parts. Besides, Kid didn't have anything to rob.
He grunted as he ducked his head and folded himself into the small compartment of my truck. Kid had to have a truck custom made for his lanky frame. I offered to take his for his comfort, but he just shrugged if off.
We drove in silence up to Mt. Chepaw, named after an Indian chief whose tribe had inhabited this land many years ago.
We stopped at an overlook site with a picnic bench and a telescope. Kid was the first to get out the car. He set down his six pack with delicacy and stretched his long limbs. I came round the truck and stood there looking out over the cliff.
From up where we were on the mountain, I could see the cattle ranch my father owned and brothers worked. One handled the actual cattle and the other the business side of it all. What was my role in all of it? I didn't know.
Kid threw a cool long neck and a bottle opener at me. I deftly caught both and settled back on the hood of the truck. I opened the bottle and took a long swig.
I leaned against my pick up and stared absentmindedly into the distance. The land stretched out before me was so majestic, so beautiful, so...unexplored. I sighed.
"If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?" I said to Kidd, who was already halfway through his first beer.
"Inside a certain female's vagina...well, just my penis..." He was referring to Myra his current squeeze, a petite little thing who worked at that Chic-Fil-a in town.
"Is that all you ever think about?"
"Besides my next meal, yes. Is that NOT all you ever think about?"
"Kid," I placed a firm hand on his shoulder, "there's more to life out there," I pointed to the purple mountains in the distance, "than underneath a girl's skirt. I can tell you that much."
"Hmm...I beg to differ, my friend. it's clear that you've been without a woman for a while..."
"That's not it. I'm just tryna make a - "
"What? Who's the lucky girl you old dog?" Oh dear, I tried to backpeddle.
"No, Kid. I'm not getting into this conve-"
Kid playfully punched me in the stomach. I flinched a bit. My hands flying to my jewels.
"Stop holding out on me, now!" Kid practically begged.
I could tell he wouldn't let up, so I gave a sly smirk and mumbled, "Sherry..."
"Sherry who? Sherry, Sherry, Sherry...I don't know if I know any...OHHHH" His eyes grew wide. "Are you referring to that fine piece of ass that works at the elementary school..." I nodded waiting for him to catch on. He took a swig of his beer thoughtfully. That's when the choking started. Beer spurted everywhere.
"You mean..." he coughed, liquid dribbling down his chin," your little sister's... kindergarden teacher! Ms. Maple!?" I swear his jackhammer laugh could be heard reverberating from the faraway mountains. It was a long and hard laugh.
"Well I'll be..." he coughed, patting my shoulder heavily. I didn't say much. I kind of watched him, amused. I pushed my hair away from eyes and stared ahead, sort of anticipating the next question. I'd always had a good read on people's line of thinking. I think that's what made me so popular with the girls in town. That and my talented fingers...on the guitar.
Plus, Kid knew me better than anyone else.
"Does Brent know?"
I snorted. "Does Brent know? Does Lucy know that Santa isn't real?"
"Well does she?"
I stared at him blankly. "The answer to both questions is no."
Everybody knew that my brother, Brent Walker, had eyes for Sherry Maple. But while my big brother Brent teased me about lacking what he referred to as the family gene for farming, I discovered that my brother was terrible at expressing himself to females.
Sherry was the same age as Brent, seven years older than me. She had a cocoa cola bottle shape, long blonde hair, and eyes lashes for days. Her green eyes reminded me of money. The kind that came crisp and fresh from the bank. She was a genuine beauty. Always impeccably tanned. Was married once too, till her husband was killed in some bizarre tractor accident. All the men respected her mourning period but when the year was up, they all lined up at her door trying to get some action. But if anything, Sherry was a lady. She turned down all of their advances because she smart. She wanted someone who was going somewhere. That's where my brother Brent came in.
Countless times he tried to "woo" Sherry, and she'd appeased him on more than one occasion, but most could see the fizzle wasn't there. He'd come home after a date with her in high spirits and I'd get a text later telling me to come over.
"How did it start?" Kid asked. It was correct for Kid to assume that this hadn't been a one-shot type of deal. It started when I got back home from college.
"About a week and half now...We've only been together about three times."
"Three times in a week and a half, under people's noses? That's a pretty big feat, my friend. Three times?"
"I mean we're talking about the times we've met up, right? Because I've lost count on how many times I've made her come."
Again, Kid choked on his beer. It was true. The woman was insatiable.
"You dog!" he chuckled. "You always accuse me of sniffing around girls skirts and not treating them right and hear you are two timing your own brother."
"I got my reasons."
[Now I must be some sort of scumbag sleeping with my brother's...girlfriend? love interest? whatever. But I felt like 1/3 of me was doing this to get back at my brother and 2/3 was to protect him. He didn't need some opportunist for a wife but a woman who genuinely loved him.]
"Sure you do." Kid let it drop. Then he smiled, "you still haven't told me about when it started? What's the story?"
I sighed. There was nothing that Kid loved more than a good story. So I finished my beer before I began.
I told him about that night, two days after I'd come home from school. I told him how I'd stormed out of the house after a conversation with my father over my future plans.
"Good job!' My father had said, referring to my three A's and B+. Earlier that night he'd ask to take a look at my transcript for the year. "But maybe take throw in an econ class or two next semester, huh?"
Then the argument began about how I would spend my summer. Where I would work. I thought that was easy. That I'd be working on the farm. He told me that Walker men had to earn their way on the farm. And I asked him what the hell that was supposed to mean? Like somehow going away for college and leaving home meant that I wasn't dedicated to the very thing that kept the food on my family's table!
It was insulting!
So left the house and went straight to Sally's, one of the oldest bars in town. It was an open mic night, too. Sally was there in her glorified age. Sometimes I felt like it was all the booze, smoke and the perpetual search for a good time at the bottom of shot glass that kept Sally alive. She was well into her sixties but didn't look it. Her silver hair was swept in a bun that night and she manned the bar instead of one of the younger males she'd hired the last time I was home.
"Ain't it past your bedtime, Sal?" I joked.
"I should be saying the same to you, young blood," She replied haughtily, her hands on her hips. I could tell she was a stunner back in her day. Now she was a worn beauty.
"Touche. Straight Jack, please." She leaned over the bar and mussed my head.
"Tough night?" she asked taking down a bottle of jack, a clean cup and and began pouring the brown liquid in. She poured more than I deserved.
"Something like that," I grumbled pulling the drink close.
After a couple of drinks and chatting with the locals, I was encouraged - by Sally of course - to take the stage.
"But I don't know... I don't want to bore nobody..."
"Oh hush now. Everybody knows you can pretty much play anything with strings on it!" Sally shouted. There were choruses of "Yeah" and "Go on, boy!" flitting across the bar.
So I said, "What the heck. Although I ain't go nothin' to play with..."
Already Sally was reaching for something under the bar. When her hands came up she was carrying a nice looking fiddle with it's bow. She smiled at me and wiggled her eyebrows.
"Alright, Sal. Only for you."
I took the stage.
It'd been a while since I'd played the fiddle but as soon as the bow hit the strings it all came rushing back to me. I picked a fun upbeat tune to play. About thirty seconds in, the house band kicked it. Earl, the baker, on his saxophone, Steve, our neighbor to left, on his flute, and Jimbo on his electric guitar. Soon everyone was up out of their seats clapping and whooping. Even old Sally raised her skirts and twirled behind the bar. It was quite a sight. I didn't know music...my music...could bring so much joy.
And that's when I saw her. She was so quiet. Moving her head in time to the beat, a bright smile on her face. And for a while I couldn't look at anybody else but her.
That number came to an end so I told the boys to go get a drink while I performed solo...a soft melody...one for her ears only. The fiddle was a beautiful instrument. Played the right way it could make the strongest man weep. When I finished, there was silence. I think I even heard someone sniffle. And then came the deafening roar. I bowed graciously and stepped off the stage. On the way down, people patted me on my back saying things like "real talent," I blushed, handed Sally back the fiddle, and took my place back at the bar where I could finish my drink.
Seconds after I sat down I felt her presence next to me. The soft press of her hips against my thighs as she leaned over the bar to order "whatever he's drinking."
"Ms. Maple..." I turned to her, "to what do I owe the honor?" I crooned, letting my eyes linger on her chest and then trail up to her face. She had on a tight top that dipped low in the front tucked into a long pink flower print skirt. Her blonde hair was piled up in a messy bun with loose tendrils haloing her face. Her lips were cherry red.
"Why don't you come over to my table and I'll tell you, Mr. Walker?" she flirted back. On the surface this exchange seemed normal. Since I was little, the women around town called me a charmer and I was known to flirt innocently with them. But there was something more here...
"Well, Sally," I slapped my hands on top of the bar. "I wouldn't be a gentleman if I refused the lady. So if you'll excuse me..." Sherry was already leading the way. Sally threw me a curious look...maybe a warning look...but I responded with a wink and a smile.
Then I followed Sherry back to her table and sat down.
"So..."
"I've never seen someone play with such passion..." Sherry said, immediately taking the reins in the conversation. That's what I liked about her. She was direct and to the point.
"Yeah, well, I love music," I mused and then grew thoughtful. "There's something about the feel of a guitar or a fiddle between your fingertips. Making music is like..."
"Making love?" she inquired. She looked me squarely in the eye, her green eyes twinkling. Her face was masked. She was testing me. Seeing if I would back down. I tried to match her coolness, but I was getting excited.
"Exactly." I'll bite the bait.
"You're so young, Walker? What are you fresh out of your first year of college?"
I nodded. She smiled. "I remember those days...I was so innocent then." She swirled a slender finger around the rim of her glass. "You got a girlfriend?"
A slow grin spread across my face. So this was how she was gonna play this. "Not at the moment. Do you have a boyfriend?"
We both knew the answer to that question so she ignored it.
"What do you know about making love, youngin'?" she asked boldly. Her long lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she closed her eyes and took a long drink.
"I know a few things, but can I just say something...I don't want you to get me confused. I'm not a little boy. Not one of your students, Ms. Maple. See, I know things about you now." Her eyebrows arched at this, and I continued. "You remember the second song I played? That didn't come from me. That came from you. I saw you looking at me with those sea green eyes filled with fire and brimstone....so much knowledge...so much pain...and my music became a reflection of everything you were giving me."
Her mouth fell open as she stared at me with wide eyes. I continued, knowing that I had her in my web. That no matter her age or how she thought that she could lord that over me, I was in control of the situation, not her.
"Then," I confessed, dropping my voice,"I started to imagine that you were that fiddle. And let me tell you something else, Sherry, a good musician knows his instrument. He doesn't just play it, he coaxes it to life, he nurtures and caresses it. He knows when it's out of tune and he's aware of each. delicate. string." I punctuated the word. My hand slide against hers, rubbing.
She licked her lips and I could see from the corner of my eye that a hand trembled. She brought the bourbon to her lips and took a sip. She was flushed.
"I...had a friend bring me here. But it seems she's left me. Can you take me home?" she asked innocently enough.
"Sure. You ready to go now?"
"Yes."
I didn't look around to see the curious eyes that followed us out of the bar. But then again, how was I a threat to my own brother? Little Sage, John and Linda's son? The college boy.
We drove the fifteen minute drive to her house in silence. I pulled into her driveway and turned the car off. We sat there for a while listening to the crickets and our breathing. Well, somebody had to say something.
"Sherry...listen I was out of-" she silenced me with a finger to my lips and the next thing I knew she was straddling me. Her flowing skirt bunched at her waist. Her plump behind hit the horn and it blared into the night.
"Sage, don't..." she whispered, leaning in. "Just let it happen."
"But Brent..." I managed to respond weakly as I felt her pelvis grind into mine. I gripped her waist firmly to keep them still. Her long hair fell around my head. Gosh, she smelled lovely - like apples and cinnamon.
She gave a soft laugh, which surprised me. "You and I both know how your brother can be. Listen, I like your brother. He's a good guy. But we've just been going out on a couple of dates. I'm allowed to have fun with other consenting adults," she said. She licked a spot beneath my ear, took the bottom of my ear lobe and sucked it into her mouth.
Her warm, wet mouth left my ear, trailed across my cheek and just before it found my lips she whispered, "and you're a consenting adult, aren't you?"
My heart cared less about the situation, my brain was clouded, so that left another head in charge - the one just below the belt. He was all too happy about the situation taking place so I followed his lead and whispered back, "Yes."
I didn't stop her when she lowered her lips and slipped her tongue inside my mouth.
I didn't stop her from unbuckling my belt and sliding my zipper down.
My hands slipped up to cup her breasts and massage them through her flimsy blouse of their own accord.
And I certainly couldn't help the rocking of my truck or the moans that filled the silent night near the pretty pink house on 156 Rockland Road.
"Jesus!" Kid hooted. His eyes glazed over as if he could've seen it all himself.
"And you really think no one at the bar was suspicious?"
I shrugged. "Maybe at first, but when it turned out there'd be more nights like that one, we both agreed that even though she wasn't my brother's girlfriend or nothing, that we should be more tactful about our...arrangement. We haven't been seen together at Sally's since."
"Hot dog! That's good." Kid exclaimed. He just kept shaking his head in disbelief. "And if Brent finds out?"
"He won't." I said firmly. This thing with Sherry and I was bound to fade out soon enough.
Kid and I talked about other things for a while until I checked my watch and sighed. Time flew.
"I better get going, man." I should've been at the farm by now. The beers were done and Kid got a great story. He was satisfied. With a grunt, he hauled himself over to the car. We drove back the way we came up: in silence. That was another thing I loved about my friendship with Kid. We didn't waste time with trivial things like greetings or idle talk. We spoke when we needed to, when we really had something to say.
I dropped Kid off and drove along another dusty road that would lead me to Walker Farm. As I passed under the massive sign, I already started to get tense. I parked in the lot with the cars, the smell of fresh manure in my nose and walked briskly to the main office.
"Howdy, Jess," I said to my dad's secretary. She was a pretty, young girl, probably my age. Short black hair, hipster glasses, and a nose ring. "He in?"
"Sure thing, Sage. Go on back."
I walked down the hall past my brother's office. I didn't want to hear him lecture me today.
"Well hello to you too, brother!" I heard him call. I stopped. A part of me wanted to keep going, but our mother did raise us with manners. I turned back.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there. How are you, Brent?" I peered into Brent's spacious office. There were piles of paper everywhere. He was at his desk, cradling a laptop in his lap. I hope he knew that whatever rays were being emitted from that laptop was killing his sperm count. I continued to look at him. Brent was handsome guy, I thought. The pink collared shirt could go, but he was tall, slightly pudgier than he and Tucker, but had a solid frame. His dark hair was cropped short, damn near a buzz cut. His eyes were the same crystal blue, but they were a lot more serious. It didn't help that his eyebrows were so thick. But all in all, a good lucking Walker.
"Bullshit," Brent laughed still looking at the screen. "You just didn't want to say hello. I get it, bro. So you've decided to join the living and the working. How was the beauty rest?"
"Fan-fucking-tastic." I turned on my heel annoyed. See this is why I didn't want to stop talk..and why I'm screwing the brains out of your little girlfriend I thought hotly.
"Now hold on a minute. Don't be mad, little one. Stay and talk to your big brother for a minute. How was your day? Really."
I grudgingly turned back. "Good I guess. Took Luce to school, hung out with Kid..." when I said Kid's name my brother grimaced, but I ignored him. I knew my brothers didn't like Kid. They didn't like anything that I liked. "And now I'm here, reporting for duty...seeing if I've earned my keep." The sarcasm was heavy in my voice.
"So you've had that talk with Dad, huh? Listen don't worry about it. I'm sure there's something around here for you to do to keep busy. You're young, you don't need to worry about a serious job right now or settling down."
Things Brent had to think about. He got distracted when something came up on his laptop. In fact, he hadn't really looked at me since I appeared in his doorway.
"True. Well...thanks for the advice, Brent." I said awkwardly. He waved his hand without taking his eyes from the screen, "Anytime, little bro."
I walked towards the end of the hall where my father's office was and knocked on the door.
"Come in," I heard. "My boy!" My father's ruddy face lit up when he saw me. It kind of touched my heart. I didn't think my Dad realized how much he meant to me, how much I looked up to him, how I wish I were half the man he was. But it didn't change the fact that he looked at me differently than he did my brothers.
"Hey, daddy. What's going on?"
"Oh nothing. Got two new foals this morning. It was a heck of a battle tryna deliver 'em. Tuck nearly lost an eye!" His father chuckled at the memory fondly. "Wish you were there to see it."
"Yeah me too."
"What did you do this morning? Help your mother around the house?"
"Nah, I went into to town with Luce and then went to see Kid."
"How's Maurice doing anyways?" No one but my father called Kid by his real name.
"He's doing well. He might come over for dinner tomorrow. "
"Well he's more than welcomed. Your mother loves cooking for him because he eats about as much as he praises her - a lot."
I chuckled. This was true. A comfortable silence fell. My father looked content today. He was a strong man for his age from years and years of farming. "Bearded and burly" was the way my momma described. He did have quite the beard. A tawny brown beard with flecks of grey that connected with his sideburns leaving only his eyes and the space around it uncovered. His eyes were sapphire today.
"So son, what brings you by?"
"I wanted to let you know that I've decided to work in town."
"Oh that's great, where at?"
"Sally's bar."
He picked up a pen on his desk and twirled it in his fingers. My dad had known Sally for a long time, but it wasn't like he respected her establishment nor the fact that from time to time she still manned the place herself.
"Is that the only place that would offer work?"
"No, but I like it there. Good people. And they musicians coming in at all time. I figured I could wait some tables and still practice my music." And I could also learn how to bartend. That would be useful for me in college. I'd always have a job in the city then.
"Well son, I can't say that I like you working there but if that's what you want to do then I'll support you."
"You sure you won't add it to your lists of disappointments, another thing you, Tucker and Brent can laugh at me about?"
The pen dropped and a look of horror crossed my father's face. "How can you say that? Son, I love you. You're my youngest boy and I just want what's best for you. I know you're different from your brothers and I've tried to respect that. But don't pin your issues with them on me..."
Oh right. Like they just got the notion that somehow working here at the farm was some special privilege a Walker boy should have came about on their own accord. No, my father was taking the easy way out. Sure, he acted like he supported me, but I know deep down he stroked their egos.
"Sure, Dad. That's what I'm doing. I got to go." I got from the chair.
"Now don't run off now, Sage. If you got something on your chest, just say it. I'm a grown man."
You're also stubborn and will never, ever admit that you're wrong, I thought.
"Nope. Just came by to tell you about the job. I'm off to call Sally and tell her I accept. See you later for dinner."
But I never made it to dinner. I went by Sally's and asked her for a job. She joked about not seeing a " Help Wanted" sign on her door, but after seeing the damn near desperate look in my eyes, she said she'd take me on.
"But don't expect some fancy pay check."
"No ma'am. I'm just here for the experience."
"Some experience..." she chortled throwing a dishrag at me.
I stayed there late while she showed me around and taught me how to make a few "beginner" drinks. Then we sat around and drank, chatting away like we were old friends. Here at Sally's I felt safe, like she knew me just a little bit more than my family did. Well, probably not as much as Lucy. But she was only five.
Then my cellphone went off. A text message. Time for me to make a house call.