Comin' Home to You (2 page)

Waiting until he reached a red light on a fairly quiet county road, Owen called the lady he truly wanted to see. The recent apple of his eye, Grace Toler. She was a few years younger than him, though her exact age was unbeknownst to him. While early to mid 30's was his guess, he was unsure why he had never asked her. He imagined she had told him before, but he had forgotten it, thus the fear of asking her. Despite her unknown age, her body resembled that of a fit college freshman, while her hair maintained a freshly dyed blonde. She worked as a waitress at one of his favorite dives, Louie's Catfish and Bar, in his hometown of Adrienne, Texas, a small town northwest of Tyler. The catfish itself was mediocre, though sometimes decent, depending on who was cooking that day. However, the selection of beer was more than adequate compared to most dumps and two-bit bars in the area. It hosted a great deal of local craft beers from around the Dallas-Fort Worth area. He loved a dark stout the most, but if the situation arose, he could drink the cheap swill the other rednecks in the area called real beer. Owen also loved whiskey, as nothing beat the blues like a good bourbon on the rocks. He planned on having both beverages tonight.

He knew Grace would answer her phone if he persisted. But how would she answer was the question. He and Grace had quite the virulent history. Their relationship was off and on, mainly because she wanted more in terms of a relationship, while he was content with how the way things were. This had went on for about two years, until a few weeks ago, when she decidedly had enough and broke it off. In that time frame, she was seen out and about with a couple of different men. A week ago however, she came over to his home unexpectedly, fucked him in such a splendid way that he could recall each second from the first kiss to climax. Then, she promptly left when he decided to go grab a beer instead of holding her. After that encounter, her anger toward him increased almost exponentially.

As he was thinking about her, Grace answered the phone in her typical southern belle accent. “What the fuck you want, Owen?”

“Just seeing what you were doing.”

I'm in the middle of my shift.”

“Sounds like you aren't that busy if you are talking to me, babe.”

“I am not your babe, Owen. Not anymore.”

“Baby, come on-”

A peculiar silence caused Owen to look at the screen of his phone. He chuckled dismally after seeing that she hung up on him. It was just how she was, but he loved that temperamental side of her. He'd see her when he got to Louie's, whether she wanted to see him or not. He was sure that if he talked to her in person, she'd be wooed by his charm and would have no choice but to go home with him.

Pulling into Louie's, a place just outside the main town area, he parked his truck in the gravel lot that constituted parking space. From the outside, the bar and grill was nothing special to look at. It was just a fairly large building made of metal siding, with a large neon sign above the door that stated the name of the establishment. Fortunately, the inside had a lot more allure to the modern patron. Entering the building and taking his usual seat at the bar, his eyes scoured the area for Grace. The bar itself had two large flat screen televisions for the sports crowd. He had watched many games there in the past, mainly Dallas Cowboys games. The restaurant as a whole was dimly lit, with lacquered wooden tables strategically placed on the painted concrete floor. Owen raised a hand at the bartender, signifying that he wanted a drink. Bubba, a bald, burly man with a plethora of tattoos placed the usual dark stout in front of Owen.

“Man, Grace saw your truck pull up. As soon as she saw it, she went and hid in the fuckin' kitchen,” said a smirking Bubba.

Owen took a sip of the beverage. “She'll have to come out at some point.”

“She looked fuckin' mad, dude. How'd you piss her off now?”

“Hell if I know. I called her on the way here just to see what she was doing later. Not sure why she got mad.”

“Well, try not to piss her off any more, man. She's been a real bitch since she dumped you.” Bubba trailed off toward the end of the sentence, just in case someone else was listening.

“Any idea why?”

Bubba shook his head as he went to attend to another customer, leaving Owen alone with his thoughts. The bartender was a solid person to talk to, though he had difficulty saying a sentence without including at least one curse word. While taking another drink, he was stunned by a sharp, but fleeting pain in his chest. These pains were yet another result from the cirrhosis, and while Owen understood the reasoning of why he was in pain, he was almost at peace with it.
With every drink of beer, I bet I get closer and closer to dying. But every drink also makes me happier. I can't deny making myself happy...

While he drank almost every night, he never considered himself to be an alcoholic. What person would bestow himself with such a negative title? Owen never had symptoms of withdrawal whenever deprived of alcohol, though on retrospect, there were no extended periods of time in his adult life without a drink. He had been called an alcoholic by his daughter, brother, and his mother while on her death bed. It was easy enough to outwardly rebuff such comments, but they still cut him like a sharpened dagger. Sometimes, he would have doubts about himself, but at this point, there was nothing more that could be done to change him.

After finishing his drink, he caught Grace trying to sneak by him from the corner of his eye. She was wearing a pink t-shirt with the Louie's logo on her left breast. She also wore a pair of skimpy black shorts that accentuated her beautiful and virtually shimmering tanned legs. Quickly spinning on his bar stool, he yelled at her to get her attention.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, she reluctantly responded. “What the hell do you want, Owen?”

“I came to see you, girl.”

“Well, you saw me.”

“What are you doing after this?”

“Not you, that's for damn sure.”

Owen had a snarky comeback at the tip of his tongue, but it couldn't function correctly to make the words. It felt like a dead weight inside of his mouth. Instead, he decided to remain silent, and his former smirk transformed into a plain poker face.

“Listen, Owen,” continued Grace, consciously talking louder so the other customers could hear. “I can't live my life lettin' some old lecherous, greedy, stupid asshole like you get what he wants all the damn time. I'm 30 damn years old, and it's about time I start actin' like it!”

Light laughs and snickers could be heard from the restaurant audience. Grace put a hand on her hip and awaited a response, but Owen quietly span around, mainly to avoid her piercing gaze, while at the same time escaping the stares and laughs from the customer audience. While her words had plenty of impact, he was more shocked that she knew the word 'lecherous.' Throwing back the remaining half ounce of beer left in his glass, he exhaled loudly. That was not the way he was expecting his conversation with Grace to go. It was disappointing, and that feeling evolved to a maudlin and brooding state. Dr. Myers' words were starting to repeat in his head, and a dark realization was beginning to set in. He was going to die, and more than likely, he would die alone.

A minute later, Bubba placed another beer on the bar top. Owen nodded in appreciation.

“Grace chewed your ass out, huh?” spoke a smiling Bubba.

“Yes...yes, she did.”

Bubba leaned over the bar to get closer to Owen. “Man, keep this on the down low, but we've been talking about it here at work, and man, the way she's been actin', a lot of us be thinkin' that she got knocked up. Either that or she's on the longest fuckin' period ever.”

That was the last thing Owen wanted to hear. The news could explain a lot of things as to why she seemed angry at him. The girl was by no means a whore. As far as he knew, the two guys she was seen out with never went beyond simple dates. Of course, he didn't know that for sure, but it even took him a couple weeks before he engaged with Grace physically, and he considered himself quite the lady killer. If she did carry his seed, then his life was truly fucked. He couldn't even imagine raising another child, but it was doubtful he would get the chance.

Now further depressed, he sighed audibly. “Well, shit.”

“I hear ya, man. I had some scares like that in the past. Shit, one of them wasn't a scare. God dammit, been paying child support for two years now. Fuck, I'm fortunate though. I'm not paying as much as other guys I know. But still man, paying for a child you don't want, that's some shit.”

“Let me ask you something, Bubba,” interrupted Owen, uncaring of Bubba's predicament. “You seem like the philosophical type.”

“The what?” questioned Bubba.

The comment was in jest, but he pushed the subject anyway. “Philosophical. You know, understanding beliefs, attitudes, and really looking at things...thoroughly, I guess. That kind of stuff.”

“Uh...alright.”

“Never mind, I'll just ask you. If you knew you were going to die, like, very soon. What would you do with your remaining time?”

Bubba guffawed. “That's your question? Shit, that's easy. Smoke a lot of weed, drink a lot of beer, and fuck a lot of bitches.”

Owen wasn't surprised. “That's it? You wouldn't try to make the world better or anything?”

“Why should I? I wouldn't be alive to see it.”

“That's a fair point.”

“Why you asking me that anyway?”

Perfectly faking a smile, Owen took another drink. “Just curious, my friend.”

Bubba rubbed his bald head. “Shit, now that I'm noticing, you lookin' real thin and frail, man. You ain't dying on me, are ya?”

“I'm just on a little diet...losing a few pounds. Just want to be ripped for the ladies this summer. You know how it is.” That was a terrible lie, but it would come off as truthful to someone like Bubba. He knew that he had few options when it came to explaining his weight loss. Lying was the only course of action.

“That's one hell of a diet, but man, you looking too damn skinny. The only ladies you gonna get this summer are those who be suckin' your dick for some crank. You sure you aren't smoking that stuff?”

“Have you ever known me to do any of that shit?”

“Nah, man. I guess not. You better eat something, man. Seriously, you looking pretty damn frail.”

Owen chuckled, then took another drink as a means to cease conversation. Unfortunately, no amount of food would pack on any pounds. He currently weighed in at 150 lbs., which was 30 lbs less than the norm throughout the years. When he did have an appetite, he would have problems keeping it down. Roughly 30 percent of the food he ingested made it through the digestion cycle. However, he just wasn't hungry most of the time. With his desire to go all out tonight, there was no point in eating anything. He would just throw it all up anyway.

Slowly rubbing the temples of his head with his thumb and middle finger, thoughts from the past crept into his mind. Whenever he was alone, they were apt to materialize. He never admitted it to anyone, but that was the main reason he relentlessly sought a woman's company for the night. In her presence, regardless of who it was, Owen thought of her and only her. With Grace already refusing him for the foreseeable future and with the previous news prevalent in his thoughts, it was looking like a miserable night. There was only one way to hopefully avoid a night of sulking self-pity; he would have to become blackout drunk. Hopefully, he would wake up in the morning none the wiser. To accomplish such a task, he needed to leave this establishment as soon as possible. He couldn't stand to look at Grace anymore without thinking how badly he needed her. Though, he would settle for any woman, but besides a few elderly women and a couple of young kids, no women were present. Simply going home was the only real solution.

Raising his hand in the air, Owen waited patiently for Bubba to return from another customer.

“What do you want, chief?” asked Bubba.

“Three shots of Jack and tab me out.”

Bubba had a surprised look on his face. “Two beers and three shots and you're out? My god, the world must be ending when Owen Tomkins drinks that fucking little.”

“I'll drink some more at home.”

“Man, you ain't the type to be drinkin' all alone. You sure you alright? You are acting like one strange son of a bitch today.”

Owen ran his fingers through his hair and sadly exhaled. “It's just one of those days, Bubba. It's just one of those days.”

Bubba was wide-eyed and confused. “Alright, hoss.”

After pouring three shots of whiskey, Bubba placed the filled glasses in front of Owen, then walked away to help another customer. Perhaps he made his bartender uneasy. He spoke some strange words that Bubba was not used to hearing. Normally, all they talked about were girls, booze, and sports. It was for the best though. He didn't need anyone worrying about him or talking to him for that matter. Tonight was a night for himself. Not that he considered himself a loner, but there were times when a man took a small delight in tasting the strength of alcohol in solitude.

That was another thing his father taught him. He remembered a night back when he was around nine or ten. It was a dark and stormy night, and he ran into the living room, as hyper and full of life as ever. He noticed his father, who was reclined back peacefully in his recliner, and asked to turn the television on. Taking a drink of his beer, his father didn't move his head, though his eyes tracked his son. He told him to go back to his room and leave him alone. Owen, being the inquisitive son, asked why. His father took another drink of his beer and calmly said that there are times when grown men need to drink alone. Owen knew not to disobey his father, but there was something in his words that rang out today. Alcohol is as social of a beverage as it gets. But until recently, he couldn't understand why someone would drink booze in solitude. All he knew currently was to finish the drinks in front of him and go home. He needed to dwell, and hopefully pass out. He could only pray that he had no bad dreams tonight.