Harder (Stark Ink Book 1) (17 page)

It was warm out, still sunny overhead. Adam guessed he was over being angry about it. He parked the Charger and moved from the gravel to the freshly cut grass. He passed rows of stones of all shapes and sizes, ranging from deep black to bleached white. Stone angels wept over unyielding granite slabs. Adam understood their message. Crying wouldn’t bring any of them back.

He weaved through the rows, careful to trace the outline of each grave site and not walk over the dead, just as she’d taught him as a boy. He walked his self-imposed maze until he came to a familiar spot. Sod had been placed over her grave, but it hadn’t yet taken hold. He could relate to that, too. His mother was gone but not gone. Or at least that’s how it felt to him. He stood in front of her buff-colored stone. Not too fancy, but still less than she deserved. He looked up at the sky again and supposed it was easier to think of her as being here, rather than up there, so he lowered his head to the soft earth under his boots.

He also supposed he should start with a greeting. A “Hello” or “Hey, Ma, it’s me.” He opened his mouth to announce his presence.

“I fucked it up,” he blurted out.

His cheeks stung as he remembered her scowl anytime one of them cursed in her presence. “Sorry, Ma,” he mumbled and shuffled his feet. The wind kicked up and the leaves on the trees rustled indignantly. Like she was scolding him. “I failed,” he said out loud, which felt strangely relieving. “The one thing you asked me to do and I couldn’t manage it.” He kicked at the abominably green sod. “Dalton’s drowning in a bottle. Jonah’s moved out. Feels like you held us together for so long and it only took a few weeks for me to let it all fall apart. I don’t know how you did it, year after year, taking on so much but never asking for help.” He smiled ruefully. “I guess I know where I got it from.”

He looked up at the clear blue sky. Billowy white clouds partially blocked the sun overhead. “I don’t know if I did the right thing with you,” he said quietly. “I just don’t know. If you were here now, I guess you’d tell me it was a sin. But what’s one sin in a lifetime full of them? Probably not much. Maybe I lied,” he told her. “Maybe I said I did it for you. But maybe I did it for me. I just couldn’t stand seeing you like that. Not living, not dying. I was selfish,” he confessed. “But you’re not surprised by that. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was a mercy. Guess I’ll find out which when I get where I’m going. Guess we’ll see.”

He ran a hand through his hair and smiled. She’d tell him it was getting too long. “Met a woman,” he said. “Ava’s guidance counselor, if you can believe it. She’s beautiful and funny and smart and she cares, genuinely cares, about everyone, every
thing
. You’d like her. You’d
love
her, actually. I think I will, too.” He chuckled. “If I don’t already.”

He looked at the stone at his feet, with its name and its dates, simple facts that belied the idea that a
person
was buried here, a
life
was over. A stone didn’t convey his mother’s warm smile or her laugh or her generosity. It didn’t say she used to poke him with a fork to remind him to keep his elbows off the table, it didn’t mention the time he’d drawn her a picture for Mother’s Day and instead of hanging it on the fridge, she’d actually framed it and hung it in her bedroom. His mother had always known what to say and what to do, in any situation, and the irony that the one person who would know what to do had left it all up to the person least qualified wasn’t lost on him.

“I’m the last person you should have asked to do this,” he admitted. “But I guess I’m the only one who could’ve tried. I understand why you didn’t tell me about Pop. I go whole afternoons trying not to think about it, trying not to imagine what he’ll be like at Christmas, or whether we should take his car away. It’s too much. But it keeps coming, doesn’t it? Life doesn’t give a shit if you can’t handle it, it just keeps coming like a freight train.”

The wind kicked up and rustled his too-long hair. “Sorry, Ma.”

“I
am
trying, though,” he told her. “Dalton’s in a program. For now anyway. Don’t know how things’ll be between us when he gets out, but at least I don’t have to worry about him wrapping that Ford around a tree. I’m selling the damn thing, too. Crap, sorry,” he added. “It’ll cover the bills for the rest of the year, anyway. I don’t know what to do with Jonah. Seems like it’s a little late in the game to try and be his friend. I don’t know that he’d even agree. But I’m not letting him go without a fight. Pop says he needs space. I don’t know exactly how you give someone space while holding on to them for dear life, but I’ll find a way.”

He sighed. “You told me to have faith. And I’ll be honest, I’m having a hard time with it.” The wind rustled the leaves again. Adam wanted it to be her and it seemed so easy to pretend. “I don’t know,” he mused. “I guess Calla showed up when I needed her. And the social worker, and Pop’s doctor. Guess maybe you’ve been sending me what I need all this time.”

He lifted his face to the sky and closed his eyes, listening to the wind. “I just need a little more help, is all. Just a little bit. If you can, Ma. If you can.”

The clouds parted and he felt his face warmed by the sun. For the first time, Adam was glad that it wasn’t raining.

Adam ducked into the Charger but before he cranked the engine, he pulled out his phone. He’d called before and gotten no answer. As a last ditch effort, he’d try sending a text. He hoped Jonah wouldn’t ignore that as well. He need an opportunity to smooth things over with the kid, especially if he had any hope of keeping Jonah around. Without school to tie the kid down, and now being out of work, Adam could see that there wasn’t much anchoring Jonah.

Come to dinner tonight. I want you all to meet someone.

Adam waited a moment, but his heart sank as he got no response. He sighed and put the phone away. He’d done all he could do. Jonah was a legal adult; if he wanted to move out
there was nothing Adam could do. Technically, he wasn’t even really missing. Jonah knew where Jonah was and despite the difficult life he’d had, he didn’t have mental or emotional problems, no drug habit, either. If Jonah wanted to walk away from the Starks, Adam supposed he could.

He turned the engine over and headed across town. He had things to do today and he might as well get the most unpleasant task out of the way first. He pulled into the parking lot of Daybreak and parked close to the door. Seeing Dalton was unavoidable. It was tempting to just leave the man where he was, out of sight, out of mind, but Adam hadn’t been raised to ignore problems and pretend as though they didn’t exist. Confronting his younger brother would suck but Adam wasn’t afraid to do it. Dalton had made his choices and in doing so had forced Adam’s hand. The only reason Dalton was here was Dalton and Adam wouldn’t let himself be swayed by his brother’s indignant anger over his circumstances.

He headed into the building and signed himself in. The duty nurse said nothing about Dalton refusing visitors, so Adam took it as a good sign. He’d say what he needed to say, get what he came for, and that would be that. The nurse directed him to a day room not all that dissimilar to the one at Shady Oaks. Padded, threadbare chairs were strewn about the room, some in front of a television, some off to the side, some around tables. Adam chose a table off to the side. He figured Dalton was still pissed at him and having a table between them might be a good thing. Not that Adam was afraid to go yet another round with his brother. He wasn’t, but he’d frankly had enough of physical confrontations for the time being. His face wasn’t fully healed and neither were his knuckles and maybe both of them needed some time and space to get straight.

Minutes passed and Dalton finally shuffled into the room. He looked a little ridiculous in sweatpants, a wife-beater, and dark gray slippers on his feet. Adam had never seen his younger brother looking so sloppy before. He suppressed the urge to laugh.

Dalton’s face was unreadable as he crossed the room. The ex-linebacker had never been great at hiding his emotions, so Adam figured he was safe, for the time being, anyway. There were a few orderlies milling about, too, which might have deterred Dalton from trying to start something. He arrived at the table, pulled out a chair across from Adam, and slid into it. Adam had always been impressed with his brother’s grace despite his massive size.

On the way over, Adam had worried about what he would say when he and Dalton were finally face to face. He’d worried that he wouldn’t be able to come up with anything. Sitting across from Dalton now, Adam could think of a thousand things to say: “How are they treating you? How’s the food? Do you need anything?” But now he couldn’t ask them, or didn’t see the point. It seemed to make too light of the situation, as well. They both knew why Dalton was here and joking about the food wouldn’t make it any easier.

Deciding to forgo any attempt at small talk, Adam reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of paper and put it on the table between them.

Dalton frowned at it. “What’s this?”

“You’re selling your truck,” Adam informed him.

Dalton leaned forward in his chair. “I—”

Adam put up a hand to stop him. “This is not negotiable. Pop got into a fight with Jonah. He had an episode and didn’t recognize him. Jonah’s okay but things aren’t working out like I planned. Jonah can’t take care of the old man during the day. Or Ava, because once she finishes her suspension, she’ll be gone all day.”

Dalton’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ava’s suspended?”

Adam ignored him. If Dalton were around and functional, he’d have known that. It was useless to point that fact out to him. “So they can’t watch him and I have to work because between the two of us, I’m the only one who has his shit together. But with all this going on and paying your debt, I’m busted. I’m flat fucking broke, Dalton. Mom’s funeral, bills at the house and the shop, plus I put Pop in a day program at a nursing home. They’re better equipped to take care of him. Insurance covers most of it, but not all. I’m stretched to my limit.”

He tapped the pink slip. “So, this is your contribution to the family. You’re signing this. I’m selling the truck, and maybe I can scrape by for the next twelve months.”

Dalton opened his mouth but Adam cut him off again before he could speak. “You want to fuck up your life? You want to lose everything you had? Fine. There’s nothing I can do about that. Frankly, I’ve got enough problems right now that I don’t have time to pull you out of this hole you’re in. Not by myself, anyway. So, yeah, I’m a shit brother. I pawned you off on people who can do this better than I can. And I admit I went about it in a shitty, underhanded way. I get that you hate me. I get that things may not ever be right between us. But I don’t care. I
can’t
care anymore. I’ve reached the end of the line, D. I’ve got to get Ava through high school and Pop through the rest of his life. And keep Jonah from taking off for good. So, this is where you ended up. You’re here because I love you, but I can’t deal with you right now. And you can be pissed at me for the rest of your life if you want, but you’ll be alive and that’s all that matters.”

Dalton leaned back into his chair and met Adam’s gaze. “Am I allowed to talk?”

Adam paused, then figured he’d said everything he needed to say so he might as well let the man speak for himself. After everything, Adam felt certain he could take it.

Dalton took a deep breath and looked at him. “I’m staying.”

This was not what Adam had expected to hear. Not at all. “I… you are?”

Dalton nodded. “This is just a detox,” he explained. “But they have another, longer program. It lasts a few weeks. I’m going to stay and finish the whole thing. You’re right. I’m fucked. I’ve fucked it all up. Lost Zoey, lost everything.” He looked up at the dingy yellow lights on the drop ceiling. “She was the only thing that mattered, though. I can’t get her back, but I can get straight. For you guys. For Pop.” Dalton put his hands on the table and frowned down at them before finally looking up at Adam. “I am so sorry that you’re doing this alone. It shouldn’t be like that. It should never be like that. We’re family and I let you down.”

“Um… shit.” Adam shook himself, feeling blindsided and stupid. “I’ll watch your place for you.”

“I’ll sign the pink slip, so you can pay for the nursing home,” Dalton offered. “Will… will there be enough to get your bike back?”

Adam shook his head. “Nah.”

Dalton closed his eyes. “Goddammit. I am so—”

“Look, it is what it is, okay? It’s done. All that matters to me—
all
I care about—is you and this family. And if this is the way to do it, then this is the way it gets done.”

Slowly, Dalton opened his eyes and looked at Adam. “I
will
make this up to you.”

Adam nodded. “I know. I know you will.”

“Adam—”

Adam recognized the pain in Dalton’s eyes. He saw it lately every time he looked in the mirror. “This is family,” he declared.

Dalton paused, then nodded in agreement. “Family,” he echoed and reached out his hand. Adam took it in his own and squeezed it tightly. This time he felt better about letting go.

Adam tried not to hover in the shop’s lobby as the contractors he’d hired hung the new front door. Since Adam himself didn’t know much about construction other than the basics, it was impossible to know whether or not they were doing a good job. They’d given him the next-to-cheapest estimate and he’d gone with it, telling himself that it wasn’t quite bargain basement and so there was some chance the door wouldn’t fall off the hinges the minute they drove away.

Having to supervise only made him miss Dalton more. Dalton never had to be checked on or checked out; his work had always been top-notch no matter what the job was. It was a testament to how far the younger man had fallen that he didn’t even have a job now. All because he’d been too hammered to actually wield a hammer. Adam wasn’t certain how they’d set about finding him more work when he got out of rehab, but he was confident that they would.

Jeannie fielded appointment calls as she eyed the men tracking dirt into ‘her’ lobby. She was playing the hard-ass this morning but Adam wasn’t fooled. He could tell she was relieved that things were getting back on track at Stark Ink.

“Business as usual, huh?” she asked him with a grin. Adam couldn’t help but smile back.

Until now, he hadn’t realized that Jeannie might have actually been worrying that her job was at stake. He’d kept her in the dark but she’d obviously known that no customers were coming in. She didn’t know that Adam had cleaned out the last of his bank account to pay both her for the hours she should have worked and the men who were here now fixing the door. Starting now, today, things had to get back on track, because this, as they said, was the end of the line. He was tapped out and worn out but it wasn’t in him to bail out.

The workers tested the door while he watched and since Adam couldn’t see anything immediately wrong, he declared the job done and paid them. Jeannie scheduled Adam a touch-up for later in the day and he stocked the ink he would need for the appointment. When he was finished, he told her he was headed upstairs for lunch. Not entirely true since he already knew there was nothing in the fridge, but he had work of a different kind to do today.

In his tiny apartment, Adam rifled through drawers for his pencils and a blank sketchbook. This one was small, though, easily portable. He slid into a chair at the kitchen table and spread out his tools. Dalton created art with Black and Decker; Adam created art with Faber-Castell, same concept, though—you needed the right tools for the job.

He walked around the apartment, gathering the scattering of framed photos, on the television, the end table, the night stand. He laid them all on the kitchen table and then headed to the kitchen. The specialty of the house this afternoon was a liquid lunch. He popped the top on a Coke and set it out of spill range. Then he opened the sketchbook to the first blank page. The beginning was the most important part, which Adam felt was the opposite of real life. A few of the Starks had come up rough, but they would overcome their ignoble beginnings. Art, on the other hand, had to be fully realized before the pencil touched the page.

Mom was easiest so he started with her. It was tempting to draw her with a halo, but she’d call it blasphemy. He’d call it truth in reporting. Her warm smile and shining eyes had drawn everyone to her. She hadn’t been perfect but she may as well have been, at least if goodness was relative. Looking over the faces of his family, he figured it was. He remembered the birthday cakes she made him, the times she’d taken care of him when he was sick. It had seemed only right to return the favor in the end. Reluctantly, he scribbled in her date of birth and death at the bottom. Seeing it finalized like that still bothered him.

He flipped the page and picked up a new pencil. He drew Dalton as he preferred to remember him: less beer belly and slightly more hair. All that testosterone was doing his brother no favors as he grew older. He left the inscription blank after Dalton’s name. Adam refused to even think about a date of death for his younger brother. He wouldn’t allow it. No matter what it took or how long, Adam was determined to see Dalton to the other side of this. There simply was no other option.

He had to use Jonah’s school photo, which only motivated him to be more involved going forward. Jonah was his brother, and they were both going to start acting like it. Adam wouldn’t pretend to know what Jonah’s life was like, then or now, but neither would he continue to walk on eggshells around him. Jonah was old enough to learn what it meant to be family. Family wasn’t always what you wanted it to be, it wasn’t always easy, but this was what God gave you and you dealt with it.

Ava practically glared out of her own photo, her shrewd eyes challenging the photographer. Adam couldn’t remember where the photo had been taken, but it captured his kid sister perfectly. It was tempting, though, to draw her younger, less rebellious, but it would do her a disservice. For all her ferocity, Ava was beautiful. He drew her piercing blue eyes and wild hair, barely contained by braids. How anyone could abandon her, throw her away like they did, Adam would never understand.

He drew himself last, sporting the haircut he still needed. He even gave himself a scraggly beard, because he was unshaven more often than not these days. There was no way to draw what he thought were his best traits— his tenacity, his loyalty, his work ethic instilled in him by Pop since Adam was old enough to hold a rake and pick up leaves in the yard. Of course this meant there was no way to convey his worst flaws— his penchant for self-absorption, his short temper, his lack of patience. He sighed as he tried to assess himself objectively. Finally he decided, one way or another, it was time to grow up. At thirty-five, it seemed like he’d put it off long enough.