Page 91 of Before We Say Goodbye
Otis cracked into a laugh that he tried to keep to himself. Jed was the engineer of a slow train to hell. Otis had tried—God knows, he’d tried—to help. There had been moments, too, when the two had connected. Otis had taught him to drive a tractor and paid him formonths at a time to work the land. He’d also encouraged him to stay clean, telling Jed what he hadn’t shared with Bec, that he’d made a promise to himself never to touch the hard stuff again.
Jed had made yet another false promise, telling Otis that he was done too. Otis had hoped it would stick.
It didn’t.
Bec tensed with each mile.This is the problem,Otis thought.She’s being a martyr, forcing herself—and dragging her family along—to show a family love that barely deserves it.They weren’t bad people, but they were damaged ... perhaps beyond repair. The gloom that hovered over their heads never dissipated, and their complaints and negativity dominated every get-together.
However,Otis reminded himself,they are family.
Armed with this acceptance, he took Bec’s hand, as he had the first time they’d pulled up to Marshall and Olivia’s humble house, and made it clear that he had her back, no matter what. Apparently unfazed, Mike raced out of the car to get his hands on whatever sugary treat Grandma Olivia had rustled up for him.
“Hey,” Otis said to Bec, waiting till she turned to him. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
She gave him a close-lipped smile that was barely a smile at all.
“You’ve given them everything. Don’t let them take any more.”
They gathered outside around a picnic table dressed in a ratty plaid tablecloth. The usual condiments and a tray of toppings covered in Saran Wrap rested in the center. Marshall presided over the grill, beer in hand. He was happy to not be working. Since Otis and Rebecca had found more success, her checks to her parents had grown in size. Essentially, the Tills were paying for the lives of Rebecca’s family, and Otis had long ago stopped fighting Bec about it.
The smell of charring burgers wafted into the air. A few empty soldiers already gathered in the grass by the fence that barely offered any privacy from the neighbors, who had more than once called the cops on Jed.
Mike sat at one of the tables, playing his Game Boy. In normal circumstances, Otis would never allow it, but the conversation had already taken a negative turn, and he preferred that Mike hear as little of it as possible.
Jed, who was high on something far more powerful than the Jack Daniel’s that shot from his breath, had become the world’s greatest master of political thought, and he chose now to share his opinions. His chair sat pressed up to the picnic table. The red Solo cup holding his strong cocktail rested before him. He wore his army jacket rolled up at the sleeves, revealing needle marks and razor scars from the hell he’d put himself through.
He raked his fingers through his long beard as he spoke. “You know Cheney’s pulling the strings, right? Bush doesn’t know his head from his ass. The only reason we’re in the war is Cheney chose to put us there. Is it any surprise? He’s getting kickbacks from every fucking sheik over there, and he’s got his hand up Bush’s ass like a puppeteer.” He lifted a hand and opened and closed his thumb against his other fingers like a sock puppet. “My name’s George Herbert Bush, and I will do anything Dick tells me. Because Dick is the only one with balls around here.”
Marshall smacked the spatula against the top of the grill, a smack heard round the world. All heads turned. “Jesus, Jed. Will you stop with it? Nobody wants to hear your conspiracy theories.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let’s continue being Dick’s sheep. Let’s keep fighting more wars. Did we not learn anything in Nam?”
“Please, Jed,” Bec said.
“I’m not doing anything wrong, sis.”
Otis and Rebecca sat together on one side of the picnic table. She dug her fingers into his thigh. Was she saying that they should go? Orthat he should jump in and save her? Or was she simply expressing her frustration?
Olivia had a superpowered ability of pretending that everything was okay. “Burgers almost ready?” she asked her husband in a joyful tune. “I’m starved.”
Everyone ignored her.
Another dig in his thigh, this one almost deep enough to tear through his trousers.
He put his hand on Bec’s back. “Maybe we should go.”
It was a whisper meant only for Bec’s ears, but Jed picked it up.
“That’s right, Otis. Maybe youshouldleave. That’s what you people do.”
Otis resisted an urge to snap back.
“Who wants potato chips?” Olivia tore open a bag of Lay’s. “I think I’ll cheat today and have a few.”
“The going gets tough,” Jed said, “Bec and Otis get going.”
“That’s not fair,” Rebecca said, digging once again into Otis’s thigh. Was this a command for Otis to stand and knock her brother in the face? He was considering it.
“Not fair?” Jed laughed. “What is not fair? That you have to come over and see your broken family every once in a while? That the boys have to see what real life is like outside that piece of white-collar heaven that you call your farm? That the world isn’t so—”
