Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“Mama took me to the doctor after a couple of days. It swole up and hurt so bad, I couldn’t walk.”
“He had a hunting accident, you say?”
Daddy sported a decidedly peculiar expression. His eyes grew larger, then shrank, and tightened as if he were trying to peer into a dark room.
“Axel, I don’t think he had no huntin’ accident. I think my brother lured him out yonder, and killed him.” A strange silence spread between them as his father looked at him, darkness in his eyes. I wonder if that the truth or a lie? He had a funny feeling he’d never know for certain. It just felt off. Not quite right.
It wasn’t his brother. It was him. That’s why he left the last time. English said, ‘Sometimes you have to listen to the lies, to get to the truth.’
A chill went up his spine.
“How’d you get along with your mother? I’ve only seen pictures of ’er. When I’d ask you about her as a kid, you never said much.”
“Mama… Well, I found out from Daddy when he was drunk one day, she was pregnant wit’ me ’fore they got married. It was a shotgun weddin’. I never knew that. I found out when I was about twelve or so. I ain’t no psychologist, but I reckon Daddy resented her and all of us kids. Axel, my father wasn’t any good. I ain’t, either. Sometimes, I tried, but still fell short. It’s just how it goes.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Guess I got it honest. I did the best I could with what I had.”
“You must not think you have much at all, then.”
“Depends on what you want from me. I ain’t got no big talents. Nothing anyone can hang their hat on.” He tossed up his hands. “I can’t sing, or play no instrument. Not good at sports. Play some decent baseball, but nothin’ special. I always wanted to be real good at baseball. You were pretty good at it.” Dad’s eyes hooded. “It was a dream of mine. Didn’t want to be no lawman, and wasn’t interested in much, career wise, at all. I ain’t got no money to live fancy free. Don’t have no use for a college education.” He shrank down, pushing his body against the pillow.
“Everybody has a talent. We’re all born with something we can do better than the average Joe. You drove trucks at one point in time. Believe it or not, drivin’ isn’t just a skill. It’s a talent, too. Just ask Austin Dillon.”
A big smile creased Daddy’s face.
“I was happiest when I was a truck driver, but then, I lost that job on account of that DUI I got.” The smile quickly vanished.
“I know you had a couple DUIs in the last few years, but I never knew you had to stop drivin’ because of a DUI back then.”
“Yeah.” Daddy ran his finger along the top of his ear, and he folded into himself. “I told everybody that the company was layin’ off folks. Didn’t want your mother to get wind of the truth. If she knew, she would’ve kicked me out. Axel, I just ain’t worth shit, and ain’t good at shit, all right?” He huffed. “I could get women though. They say I’m charmin’ when I want to be, and clean up well.” He shrugged. “People used to say I was good lookin’ back in the day. I had that going for me. Got married to a lady before I met your mama. She cheated. I cheated back. We were young. Nineteen.” Axel never knew of that, either. “She filed for divorce. Met your mama a few years after that, and we hit it off. I fell in love with her. More than even my first wife, Evelyn.”
“What caused the problems between you and Mama when I was a baby, in your opinion?”
“She says it was my drinking. I got into drugs for a little while there, too. Cocaine, Crack and Quaaludes. Things like that.” Daddy hung his head. “Guess I didn’t love ’er enough after all.” He paused and scratched under his arm, by his ribcage, then leaned over and lit a cigarette. The flicked lighter illuminated his face, making his eyes glow like a cat’s.
“Is this truthful enough for you, Axel?” Daddy smirked in an almost obscene way as he blew out smoke rings.
“There’s no barometer for the truth. It either is, or it isn’t. The truth is not arguable. It’s a fact. This isn’t a test.”
“Sure as hell feels like it. How is me telling you all of this bad shit helpful? I’m doing it to prove to you that I can. You talked about accountability, being responsible, but that doesn’t have anything to do with it. Life is just shitty, and there is nothing I can do about it.”