Page 22 of Down in Flames
Derek opened his mouth, but the door swung open before more poison could come spilling out. The screen bounced off Derek’s shoulder, and he caught it on the backswing before it could strike their father.
“You need your cane—” West began, scrambling to his feet and wiping his hands on the seat of his jeans.
“Don’t start,” Jasper warned, resting one hand on the door frame for balance. “I already get enough of that from your mother. Buncha nagging hens.”
“Don’t be an ass,” Derek said. “Get your cane or go sit down.”
Jasper scowled at his eldest son. “You’re not too old for me to whoop,” he muttered, but as he spoke, he was reaching behind him and snagging one of his canes from the umbrella stand by the front door. “There,” he snarled. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” Derek drawled.
These days, Jasper barely left his easy chair. He claimed it hurt too much, but West had always suspected it was his pride that hurt when he was forced to hobble like an old man. His time in the oil fields had ended abruptly the day he’d fallen from a drilling platform and fractured his spine in two places. It was just the last in a long line of injuries that had slowly eaten away at him over the years. Hard work had ground him down, snapping pieces off him one by one until almost nothing was left but frown lines and frailty.
West couldn’t even remember the last time he’d left the house. His cheeks were sunken and his skin had a pale, waxy hue. He just sat in his recliner, scrolling listlessly through sports channels and yelling whenever his wife suggested he get some fresh air.
Looking at him now, it was almost impossible to believe he was the same quick-grinned bronc-buster from the old photo albums. Any stranger could be forgiven for assuming he was decades older than the number on his birthday cards.
His father sighed. “Your mother thinks ol’ Gus has been laying too much responsibility on you.”
“It’s not a problem,” West said, casually moving to his father’s side in case he began to topple. Derek was already flanking him from the other side, one hand hovering at his elbow.
“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” Jasper’s lips twisted into something that looked like a smile that died before it arrived. “Look, we all know your mother would keep you in her pocket for the rest of your life if she could. But she’s got a right to be worried when you walk through the door looking like you just tangled with a mountain lion. You’ve been getting banged up an awful lot lately.”
“So what?” West said, shrugging awkwardly. “I’m not made of china.”
“According to your mother, that heart of yours might as well be.”
“You know there’s an HLHS survivor who just hiked the PCT, right?”
“Don’t get smart with me, boy. I’ve read the studies, same as you. It’s the uncertainty that drives your mother crazy.” There was something strangely keen in his gaze when he flicked it across West’s battered face. “But I didn’t raise my children to be helpless or lazy. Not even you.”
Derek barked out a short laugh, and West’s back stiffened.
“What’s your problem?” he demanded.
Derek shrugged, catching his glare and throwing it back to him like a javelin. “It’s just funny. You’ve been working the same minimum wage job since high school, and we’re still arguing about whether you can hack it.”
“Derek…” their father began warningly, but Derek plowed right over him.
“You’re over there playing around at a job any kid could do, and I’m the one busting my ass to cover everyone’s bills. Who do you think is paying for that handicap rail in Dad’s shower?”
“I don’t need no bars in the shower!” Jasper barked, slamming his hand into the screen so hard that it popped off its rusty hinges. “You think I can’t even wash my own ass without help? What do I look like to you?”
“There’s no shame in not being able to do everything you want, Dad,” West said, resting a cautious hand on his shoulder.
His father shook him off, snarling, “Maybe not for you.”
A muscle in West’s cheek flinched before he could stop it, but he covered it by squinting out at a distant nothing in the front yard.
Jasper ran a hand through his unkempt hair, looking aggravated. “Look,” he said, “You’re a grown man. Do what you want. But if you show up here again looking like you were trampled by a herd of buffalo, your mama is going to keep blaming that job of yours. Then she's going to march herself downtown and give ol’ Gus a piece of her mind.”
Then his secret would be out. That kind-hearted old man was no match for his mother's tears. Nobody was.
His father looked at him funny, and there was something tense and knowing in his tone when he warned, “Watch yourself, son.”
“Yes, sir,” West promised.
Satisfied, Jasper’s attention transferred to his eldest son. “You planning on sitting at your mama’s table like that?” he asked, gesturing to his filthy clothes and the bedraggled puppy still tucked under one arm.