Page 4 of Hawk
I say, “Ay, I’, gon’ tighten both of yall up in a minute. Is this any way to welcome your brother home?”
“You’re right,” Brandon says. “My bad, man.”
Brandon is a mature thirty-five-year-old – has always been the smart, know-it-all type, even back when he was in his twenties. I guess it’s because he’s the oldest, and owns a trucking company that brings in over five million dollars a year. He’s the only one of us siblings that got his stuff together.
I crack open a cold one and chug it down. Getting out of lockup feels like a rebirth – starting over again – but who wants to keep doing that? I’ve done it before. I hadn’t planned on doing it again. Now, I’m thirty and besides my house, I have nothing. I suppose I should be thankful that Brandon looked after it for me, especially after Ivy moved all her stuff out.
Yep, she left me and the only call she took of mine was the very first one after it all went down. That’s it. I was still in the hospital then, and she didn’t bother to come see me. Ivy didn’t visit me in prison, didn’t write or put money on my books– she was a ghost just like my brothers who also went AWOL. At least Brandon took care of the house and put some money on my books. Gage, the pain in my rear, didn’t do anything for me. He’s always been selfish, but after ruining my life, the least he could do was visit.
“You see Ma yet?” Gage asks, taking it upon himself to take a beer out of my cooler.
“I just got out yesterday. I haven’t seen anyone but you two knuckleheads.”
“Yeah, well, she’s been waiting to see you,” Brandon says.
“Ha—more like waiting to cuss you out!” Gage says.
If Gage wasn’t my brother, I’d been knocked his teeth out a long time ago. He really doesn’t think before he speaks, nor does he think about the consequences of his actions.
I say, “What have you been doing free for the last two years, Gage? You got a job yet, or are you the same moron you were back then, pissing in your pants trying to get away from the cops.”
He chuckles. “Well, at least I got away.”
I jump up from my seat – a piece of log that I use for a chair – and lunge at him. I grab his collar before Brandon plays referee and holds me back from beating Gage into a pulp. He’s been asking for it and I’m just the one to give it to him.
“The only reason I got caught you stupid bastard is because of you. I was making sure you got away, and you think this is funny?”
“Ay, man. Chill,” he says, smoothing out his shirt. “Can’t you take a joke anymore?”
“Get out of my driveway before you take a fist to your face!”
He puts his hands up and backs away. When he leaves in whatever piece of crap car he’s stolen this time, I tell Brandon, “I swear he has a couple of screws loose.”
Brandon shakes his head. “I hate to say it, Gideon, but you have to let him make his own mistakes.”
“Oh, I’ve learned that lesson while I sat in prison for two years for something he did, and he didn’t bother to come to visit, write or nothing.”
“I didn’t visit you either—”
“At least you kept an eye on things here,” I say, turning to look at my small light blue house with dark blue shutters. “It ain’t much, but at least I got somewhere to lay my head.”
“In these parts, that means you got a lot, brother.”
I grab two beers from a red cooler, offer him one, and crack open a second for myself, and say, “I’ll drink to that.”
He takes a long, hearty swig and then asks, “So, what now, bro?”
I shrug. “I’m going to pick up where I left off. Gotta get my shop back up and running so I can make some money. I have a steady clientele.”
“Let me guess—those heathens at that motorcycle club.”
“Call them what you want, but they all came to visit me when I was in the slammer. They’re my family.”
“Oh, and I’m not.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I didn’t say that.”
Brandon kicks dirt and stares down the street when he says, “Now’s a good time to leave that life behind. If you truly want a fresh start, then make one. You can work at the trucking company if you—”