Page 22 of Stray

“Yes,” I don’t want to lie to him, but I hate making him feel worse. “The medication helps some, mostly by keeping him asleep. I think he misses everything, though. Betty, Dorothy, you.” I hear a sharp intake of air come from him.

“Fuck.” His voice is so soft and weak I slide over from the door to the wall while reaching up and unlocking the door before cracking it open.

“Don’t,” he chokes out, and I hear him sniffle. I listen, not opening the door any further. Instead, I reach my hand through the crack and hold it out. He sniffles again before I feel his strong yet shaking hand grab mine, and we sit there in complete silence. I run my thumb back and forth over his rough knuckles, giving him the only comfort I can.

Jackson

“I really don’t want to go,” I mutter, throwing a ball for Bear to chase. Rocky is still milking his paw injury. I can’t blame him, though. Every time he holds it up, and whines, Theo, Mama, or Ozzy gush all over him. I look at Jensen, who sits on our fence, as he works his jaw.

“Please?” He asks, and man, I bet that one hurt. We aren’t known for begging around here.

“Jen, it’s been a rough time lately, and we are prepping for the fair. I really just don’t feel like wasting a night at the bar. Why are you so hellbent on going anyw-” I stop when I see the redness in his cheeks starting up. “Ohhhh shit, is Niamh back?” Jensen groans, and yep, his girl is back in town. Niamh was adopted by the town, much like Theo. Niamh is a waitress at the local bar owned by her “American father,” Leon. Leon is close with Niamh’s parents, and when Niamh wanted to come here from Ireland and stay in America, Leon made sure she had a job and a place to stay. Jensen has been in love with the girl for five or so years now. But with his extreme aversion to crowds, he rarely sees her, and if he does, his anxiety and panic attacks keep him from talking. So, he looks at her from afar… like a creep.

“Take Carter,” I offer. “Or Theo or Ozzy.”

“Carter and Theo are already going, but you know they are going to hunt for ass, so I’m going to be left–” I look up from Rocky to see why my brother trailed off. “Jackson, what in the fuck is Ozzy doing?” I look out near the farm to see the woman screaming at the cows. She’s in her ridiculous heels, a crop top with a heart shape cut out to show off her very blessed tits, and shorts with neon orange fishnet stockings. I watch in amusement as she balls her fists at her sides in irritation.

“Listen,” she yells, “Have you ever not been fed, Greta?” The cow in question moos at her. Ozzy gasps and whirls around “THAT IS A BOLD FACE LIE GRETA AND YOU KNOW IT!”

“I think the manure has broken her brain.” I chuckle, walking over to Ozzy, and she growls in frustration as the spike of her heels sinks into the ground.

“Tink,” I chuckle as she falls backward, the chicken feed she had been carrying falling all over her. She looks up at me, and the chickens begin to hop around her. I try as hard as I can not to laugh, but it doesn’t work. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your parents’ anniversary,” she sighs, trying to pull her heel out of the ground. “Your mom asked if I would let her handle everything today with your dad because she wanted to spend it with him alone. I told her, sure, if she would give me the list of chores that needed done. “Ow!” She screams as Lori, the bitch of the hens, pecks her arm.

“Alright,” I breathe as I hold my hand out for her to grab. “How’s about we get you in some better shoes?” Ozzy waves my hand away before unbuckling her shoes and leaving them stuck in the mud.

“I am perfectly capable of feeding the–” Greta has made her way to the fence and lets out the loudest moo in Ozzy’s ear. “You are going to be a great fucking cheeseburger, Greta!” She screams while trying to brush the feed off her.

“Tink, baby, take a breath,” I say softly when I notice her body shaking and her cheeks going pink. “What’s going on? Don’t worry about the chores. I’ll have one of the guys do it.” I reach down and pull out her shoes before motioning for her to follow me.

She sits on a stack of square hay bales while trying to take in a cleansing breath.

“You wanna talk?” I offer, setting her shoes next to her. She shakes her head from side to side.

“It doesn’t matter, it wouldn’t make sense to you, and I just…” Her brows furrow together as her voice cracks. “Never mind, you have no reason to care about this.” She chuckles before getting ready to stand.

“That’s not fair,” I say, stepping in front of her. “I’m trying to care. You just don’t want to let me!”

“Why do you want to care?” She snaps while standing up in the space I left between us.

“Jesus Christ,” I groan while rolling my eyes. “I don’t know because I’m a decent human? I can tell something is wrong with you, and I’m offering to… what?” I ask as I watch her face crumple for exactly two seconds before she goes distant. When her eyes meet mine again, they are hot and full of anger. Her full nude lips form the deepest scowl I’ve ever seen.

“Fuck you, Rowe,” she sneers. “There is nothing wrong with me. You want to talk about someone having issues? You’re father is going to die any fucking time now, and you refuse to go sit with him. How about you handle your own shit before trying to get into mine.” She storms off, and about halfway down the field, she steps into something. Good, I hope it’s shit.

* * *

I tap on the bedroom door and take a steadying breath when I hear my mom’s voice tell me to come in. Walking into the bedroom, I stare at the two sets of wide eyes from my parents, and I shuffle from one foot to the other.

“Mama, Pops,” I say while removing my hat. “Umm… Mama, I know it’s y’alls anniversary, but would you mind if I have just a minute with Pops?” Mom is up, shaking her head and leaving the room, telling me to take my time before I’m sure my whole question is out. I look from the door to my father. My father, who has always been my hero, my idol. The man I have spent my whole life emulating. He looks so… frail.

“Well,” Pops shifts weakly. “Which one of you ran her off?” I blink in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, boy. This room could be on fire, and you wouldn’t come in here unless you had to tell me one of you boys ran girlie off.” I wince at his words. Ozzy’s words came to mind, and I now realize how much I’ve avoided seeing my father.

“Ozzy hasn’t left. Not yet, anyway.” I mutter as I motion to the chair by his bed. He nods, and I take a seat.

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