Shallow Creek

He walked across the parking lot and got into his truck, feeling a little stupid for running off his only lead so quickly.  In fairness, this wasn’t exactly his strength.  The Marines had taught him how to execute a more upfront style of investigation.  Maybe he needed to stick to his guns, instead of politely asking ex-druggies lame questions.

First, though, he needed a damn bag of ice.

Chapter 10

The glass pulsed against Brendan’s hand as his dad gently tapped the framing nails back into the window trim.  Not the kind of man who calls in a professional, Darryl Rhodes had decided that he and his son could easily fix all the damage done by the thugs, and mom’s shotgun, the previous night.  Like most household D.I.Y. jobs, this one wasn’t difficult; it just took time.  And time was something Brendan felt slipping away.

His investigation had stalled, and despite having no real deadline at all, his lack of progress irked him to no end.  How difficult could it be to find a drug lord in a small town like Shallow Creek?

With one last thump, his dad inspected their handiwork intently, and then departed from the front door without so much as a nod.  Brendan hadn’t expected a fanfare or anything for his assistance, but a simple gesture of appreciation would’ve been nice.  Darryl Rhodes had never possessed a warm personality, but his frigid behavior towards Brendan left the young man at a loss.

He wandered into the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink.  His mother rolled past behind him in a flurry of culinary prowess as she gracefully slid an unbaked pie into the open oven.  Over his shoulder he saw her effortlessly flip the door shut and then she was off to her next domestic conquest.  A smile creased his lips as he grabbed a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table.

“You’ve had a rough day, son.” His dad appeared from the other end of the kitchen.  “Why don’t you take a load off?”

The man paid no heed to Brendan’s glare as he reached into the fridge to grab a beer.  Without another word, his father walked by and planted his ass back in the recliner facing the TV.   Brendan had put up with some shit from his dad before, but never had the old man got his blood up like this.  His fingers ached, and a quick glance showed white knuckles choking the life out of the thick glass in his hand.  Delving down somewhere deep, Brendan sought out some calm place where his jackass of a father couldn’t reach him.

“Hun, can you help me sweep the kitchen?”

His mother was holding a broom towards him when he opened his eyes.  Sweeping didn’t sound like a bad idea.  Menial labor always had a calming effect.

“Sure, Mom.”

The kitchen didn’t take long, so Brendan passed through the front and back entrances to the house, picking up all the crud from the window repairs.  Finished with that task, he took up a position at the kitchen sink to help his mom out with the dishes.

“Oh, you don’t have to do those, honey,” his mom said, directing him out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, honey, get your hands out of the damn sink and get a job,” his father said as he materialized, reaching into the fridge for another beer.

“I don’t need one.”

“Oh really?” His dad set the beer on the counter just a bit too hard.  “So you’re just going to bum off your parents, after ignoring them for years?”

Brendan met his dad’s icy stare.  “I sent you letters—”

“Were the damn phones broken on base, wherever the hell that was?”

His father stepped around the counter and took a couple of steps toward Brendan.  His mother stepped between them as that all too familiar tension built in the muscles across Brendan’s shoulders.

“Darryl—”

“Can you believe the nerve of our son, just showing up out of the blue expecting handouts?” his dad bellowed at her.  “That’s not how I raised him.”

“I’m right here.” Brendan’s teeth clenched involuntarily.  “How about you say what you need to say.  To my face.”

His dad gave him one icy look before walking away.

“Yeah, walk away and ignore the problem,” Brendan called out, knowing it was a bad idea.  “Is that the same way you treated Taryn when she became a junkie?”

Darryl Rhodes was in Brendan’s face in a heartbeat.  Fists raised just a touch and chest puffed out, his father leaned forward.  Rage started to take control in Brendan.

Go on, hit me.  Give me an excuse.

Instead, his father spun and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door as Brendan shook his head.  A hand on his shoulder jolted him.  His mother backed up a step, startled at Brendan’s reaction probably.

Holy crap, I was ready to punch out my own dad.

It was a sobering thought.  The unbridled anger melted away slowly.  He sat down at the kitchen table and squeezed his skull between his hands.  His mother sat across from him and pulled his hands down.  She had tears in her eyes when he looked up.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered.  “I shouldn’t have said all that.”