Comin' Home to You (23 page)

Owen did his best not to show any emotion on his face, but the way his hand trembled picking up and holding the shot glass betrayed those notions.

“Well?” asked Ali.

He carefully placed the shot glass to his lips and consumed the bourbon before answering. “It’s something I’ve wanted…needed to do for a while. But, something has come up that made me need to do this now.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Ali. I have cirrhosis of the liver.”

“What’s that?”

“My liver isn’t working right. It’s scarred up. It’s failing. It’s failing so badly that…well, I probably don’t have a lot of time left.”

Ali appeared unfazed. “Then get it fixed.”

“It’s beyond fixing. I need a transplant, and that’s probably not going to happen for some months, possibly a year. The chances of me being alive by then aren’t good.” Owen wanted to let the moment sink in before concluding. “I’m dying, alright?”

While not being the sharpest tool in the shed, she knew enough to form an opinion. “So why are you sittin’ here drinking whiskey if you have liver problems?”

Owen said nothing.

“So what, huh? You were just going to kill Clint and ride off into the sunset?

“Scar, too, if I can.”

“And you were just going to leave us alone? You think that it will help Austin when he knows that his daddy and uncle got murdered by his grandpa? How the fuck would that help him?”

The harshness of Ali’s verbal blows actually made his heart ache. She always had the ability to speak the brutal truth, especially when he was never prepared for it. He’d thought of only Austin’s happiness and future in his own perfect scenario. If Scar and Clint were no longer around, his ability to be influenced by the toxic Graysons would be drastically reduced. Ali would also be free of Clint’s domestic abuse and free to hopefully live a life away from those problems. Whether that causes her own drug and emotional problems to cease is another story. But it would be a step in the right path.

However, she had a point. A very strong point, at that. Could Austin, a young boy at the age of nine, emotionally and mentally recover from all of this? Could he keep moving on knowing that his grandfather, someone he loved, killed his father and uncle? Would he grow up hating Owen for the rest of his life? Of course, Owen would be in the afterlife and would never have a clue who loved or hated him. But he didn’t want his last thoughts to be questioning whether he made the right choice.

Hard choices were meant to be difficult. He could almost guarantee that his choice to end Clint and Scar would be better for Austin in the long run. Maybe one day the boy would forgive his old grandfather, if he did indeed despise him. But for now, his decision would remain the same.

“Yes, I do believe this will help Austin. It will help you, too. If I’m gonna die, I’d rather die knowing you two are safe and away from those idiots.”

“You’re so stupid, dad. So fucking stupid. You’re so skinny and weak. You couldn’t even go toe to toe with Clint, and he is scrawny as hell. Did you think what would happen if you fucked up and failed? What if you died trying to do what you think is right? I don’t even want to think about what Clint would do to me.”

“I’m not going to fail.”

“You said yourself you could die any time. What if you died right now, huh? You already lit a flame under Clint’s ass. I bet you the next time he sees me, he is going to turn me all kinds of shades of black and blue. You even going to be alive to protect me? You are an idiot.”

Owen breathed deeply. His stomach was starting to hurt, but he ignored it. For the sake of his family, he couldn’t falter.

Instead of pouring a shot, Ali took a drink straight from the bottle. “And if you don’t fuck up and succeed, you think the rest of the Grayson family won’t be seeking vengeance on you? If you ain’t alive to receive it, that shit falls on your brother and probably me too. Graysons are very vengeful, I have seen it firsthand.”

“Actually, I believe they will be too busy squabbling among themselves to care.”

“You just know this?” sarcastically asked Ali.

“I do.”

Now Ali was speechless.

Austin quietly made his way into the kitchen. “What are you guys yelling about?”

Both were quick to deny any arguing. Ali bent down and placed her hands gently on his shoulders. “Nothing is wrong, Austin. We were just talking.”

“Yeah, bud,” acknowledged Owen. “We’re just chit-chatting.”

“Doesn’t sound like chit-chatting. Sounds like you guys are getting really loud and crazy.”

Ali felt her fingertips squeeze a little tighter on her son’s shoulders. “Your grandpa and I are just disagreeing on some things. But everything’s alright. I swear.”

“Oh, okay. Mom? Can we stay the night? It’s already dark.”

Ali grew a surprised look on her face. “Stay the night?”

“Yeah, it’s already late.”

Owen nodded his head in agreement. “Honestly, it’s best for you here.”

“Really? How?” Ali’s voice had a mild tone of cynicism.

“You really think your house is the best place for you?”

It was obvious by her expression that she hated it when her father was right. “Fine. Okay, we’ll stay here tonight.”

Austin pumped his fist in excitement and ran back into the living room. Owen and Ali stared at each other for a moment before sitting back down. While the conversation initially started out with some tense subjects, they both slowly understood the need to protect Austin. The discussion eventually took a lighter tone with subjects like softball and pizza before the family retired for the night.

-

Owen dealt with a lot of pain in his stomach and even vomited once before falling asleep. For him, it was just a normal happening. Once in his alcohol-aided slumber, he dreamt. He was sitting at a bar, though he was the only one in there. All lights were off except one right above him. Two televisions were on in front of him, one showing a baby being born and the other displaying a picture full of static. His drink was what appeared to be a pale ale, or a pilsner glass full of bile. Either way, his dream self didn’t dare put the drink to his lips. The person tending to the bar was Patricia. Her eyes were directed on him as she cleaned a glass with a white cloth over and over again.

But he noticed something different tonight. Her body still maintained the image of her last moments on this planet, but her eyes seemed to have more of a lifelike spark, much different than the usual glazed over look she normally had. He could see what he could only establish as sorrow in her eyes. Why was tonight different? He almost wanted to touch her, but Owen couldn’t will his dream self to do so.

Owen’s attention quickly diverted to the televisions when the one showing the baby being born flooded with gray, black, and white static. The other TV cleared up, showing a couple being married in front of a beautifully crafted wooden pulpit. The screen zoomed in on the couple, revealing a younger Owen and Patricia speaking their vows. The dream Owen quickly shot his eyes to Patricia. A shocked look came over his face when he noticed Patricia was watching the screen. This marked the first time in his dreams that Patricia ever looked away from him. He immediately rose from his bar stool in an attempt to touch her. He had to touch her. Owen extended his arm as far as he could…

But just like that, his dream ended.

It was a loud piercing sound, followed by glass breaking that woke Owen up in a panic. He swiftly rolled to the floor, grabbing his handgun that he placed under his bed before falling asleep. Another sound that he quickly deciphered as a gunshot sounded through his home. Two more followed, one hitting a window elsewhere in the house.

A pained scream like he never heard before made his skin crawl. Owen quickly darted from the floor to the bedroom Austin and Ali were sleeping in across his home. He stayed low, and he was glad he did when he felt the whizz of a bullet fly over his head. Not wanting to take any further chances, he got on all fours to stay away from the path of any more bullets. He noticed Ali and Austin lying down on the floor on the end of the bed, with Ali holding Austin in her arms. Blood could be seen on his daughter’s arm.

“Are you okay, Ali? Oh, god. What happened?”

Even though it was dark, the tears in her eyes could be seen thanks to the moonlight shining through the now broken window. “It’s not me, it’s him.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think,” stammered Ali, pausing her words from the sounds of gunshots. “It doesn’t look bad.”

A combination of fear, worry, regret, and anger washed over him like a flash flood. He didn’t expect this as bullets continued to pelt the side of the house and break through glass. The last thing he would ever want was to put Austin and Ali in significant danger. That’s exactly what he did.

All he could do was stay down and hope for the best. Owen was able to find Austin’s hand in the darkness as the gun shots continued to ring out. It gave him some hope when he squeezed back. He wasn’t crying, but there were occasional moans, though they sounded scared, not pained. The boy was tough. Even a bullet wasn’t enough to make him break down. Even if Owen was the one who was stupid enough to keep his family here when he was a high target for this kind of action, he still swore retribution. He placed a lot of the blame on himself for his actions, but he had the ability to change the way his family lived. It was up to him.

A few moments later, the gunshots came to a complete halt. A deep exhale escaped both Owen and Ali’s lips, while Austin stayed quiet, save a few moans here and there.
Poor kid
, thought Owen.
No kid in the world should go through this shit.
It gave Owen a quick moment to examine Austin’s arm in the darkness. The darkness of blood was noticeable, but there wasn’t much. It was probably just a graze.

Crickets chirped loudly and the sound of owls hooting could be heard in the thick night air. Owen could cut the tension with a dull knife. He waited and waited to hear something from the attackers. Finally, a cough, followed by someone spitting loudly.

“You alive in there?” asked someone with a strong hick accent. The voice echoed in the muggy night atmosphere.

Owen stayed silent. Ali and Austin’s breaths were the kind of inhales and exhales people do to keep silent, but the fear seeping through their blood makes each breath barely audible.

“Come on, you ain’t dead, is ya?” asked a different voice, though with the same country accent.

Owen didn’t know whether answering was the correct choice or not. Unclear of his next move, he decided to ask for advice in a place he never has. “What should I do, Ali?”

“You’re asking me?” Ali whispered in slight shock.

“Yeah, do you even recognize those voices?”

She had to think for a second, while keeping her arms held tight around Austin and lightly brushing his hair with her fingertips. “The second one sounds like BJ.”

“And who’s that?”

“One of Clint’s stupid friends. Follows Clint around like a puppy dog. Usually starting shit.”

Owen bit his bottom lip. His stomach started hurting again, almost making him want to vomit. It was getting harder to hold it together, but he did his best to calm and control his insides from erupting out. Ali noticed the deep and difficult breaths her father was taking, but said nothing.

After a moment, he was able to collect himself enough to speak. “If I answer, they may keep shooting.”

“Do it. Answer.”

Owen didn’t even bother to question Ali’s judgment. “I’m fine! Who are you?”

“We come here on behalf of the Graysons!” said the first voice. “And we jus’ wanna let you know that your death is ushered.”

“Assured, you idiot,” quietly said a third voice.

“Yeah, uh, your death is assured!”

The third voice could be heard whispering insults at the speaker, before taking over the reins and speaking himself. “Consider this night a pretty fair warning of what your life will become if you keep managing to stay alive. It may not be tonight, or it may not be tomorrow, but Owen, your life will end very, very soon.”

“It’s Owen huntin’ season, woo!” said the man identified as BJ. After he whooped and hollered for a brief moment, he took another shot at the house. The bullet went through the window and into a picture frame on the wall of a team photo of Austin’s coach pitch league a few years back. After that, the shooting stopped and the voices ceased. He still gripped his gun tightly, even though he was sure this event had ended.

Hearing a pained moaning sound, his mind quickly rushed back to his wounded grandson. Realizing he couldn’t see much, he got up and turned the light on. While the sight he saw lowered his anxiety a touch, he still couldn’t stand seeing his son hurt like this. Thankfully, his gunshot wound was just a small scratch on his arm. He’d heal from that by next week, but the emotional scar may last longer. But the fact that this was perpetrated because of his actions today ignited a stronger fire than ever before.

After his wound were treated with a wet rag and a bandage, Austin remarkably fell back asleep in the other bedroom that had been Ali’s growing up, though all that was furnished within it was a simple queen sized bed. Ali caressed her son’s forehead as she watched over him, while Owen cleaned up the glass from the floor and any other damage the bullets caused. After the father and daughter had finished their respective tasks, they met in the kitchen and sat down, with Owen pouring a shot of whiskey for each of them. The refrigerator hummed calmly, but other than that, the father and daughter just stared at each other silently.