Page 89 of Torch Songs

The rest of the property was in the same state of disrepair and entropy, although Guthrie could see where Jock had started to make inroads in upkeep.

Jock was actually a better carpenter than bass player, and he was pretty good at things like keeping the nettles and growth tempered and the house painted, when he was given a little bit of money and some time. About half the place had been cleared out, and most of the junk that had lived on the lawn had been hauled away. A pile of clean new lumber sat by where a dilapidated carport had been torn down, and Guthrie could see most of the new structure in its place. Jock wasn’t kidding about working on the place, and Guthrie’s conscience gave a twinge at the thought of Jock out here alone, trying to take care of Guthrie’s dad and make sure the one thing he’d have after Butch passed away wasn’t going to crumble into dust.

Guthrie parked the truck in a bare spot under a small copse of cypress and oak trees, knowing he’d appreciate the cover when he was sleeping in the bed. Itdidrain every so often, even in the summer, and the trees might keep the fog from swallowing him whole.

He slid out and stretched, hearing his back crack and the muscles and joints taxed from the beating giving a sigh of complaint as he did so.

After about two minutes of side-of-the-road yoga, there came Jock’s truck, smoking like a pack-a-day trucker, pulling into the yard and heading toward Guthrie’s truck. There was another vehicle there, a small red Toyota, about ten years old, huddling in the same direction Guthrie and Jock had parked.

Jock emerged from the driver’s side and gave his own painful stretch.

“Looks like Jolene’s here,” Butch said, smiling fondly. “Woman offered, but we had to be back before her shift started at the bar. I should go in and relieve her before I tell your daddy.”

“Before?” Guthrie asked, although he knew.

“It’s gonna be ugly, Guthrie,” Jock said with a sigh. “Just… if you could maybe remember you’re doing this for me and not your dad, the next few weeks might be easier.”

Guthrie gave his own sigh and shooed Jock away. From inside the house, he heard the unmistakable bellow of Butch Woodson.

“You’re lyin’, you fuckin’ whore.Jock would not come back here with my no-good son, ’cause the little faggot’s no blood of mine!”

Guthrie took his last breath of free air and decided that maybe it was time he faced the ugly head-on.

Making Love on the Telephone

TAD GLAREDat the phone in his hand and fought the temptation to chuck it across the room, through the sliding glass door to the patio, and through the window of his SUV.

The sunset’s the only good thing here. Have one.

There was a picture with the text to show him that Guthrie had made it to Sand Cut—a place Tad hadn’t evenheardof before today—and he was doing okay.

Tad remembered the expression on Guthrie’s face as he’d left and begged to fucking differ.

“What’s it say?” April asked from her place on the recliner. Uncharacteristically, she didn’t have yarn in her hand. Instead, she had a cat on each side of the chair, both of them asleep under her arms in an attempt, she said, to stop her from doing that weird thing with the string.

“It says he made it,” Tad muttered. “It says the sunsets are nice.”

April grunted. “It says the people are so fuckin’ awful he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Tad touched his nose. “Bingo.” He heard her own unhappy sigh and gave her a suspicious glance. “What aren’t you telling me?” He’d had doubts when she’d come into his room and cried that morning, making the sudden absence Guthrie had left exponentially worse. She’d been inconsolable, and he’d finally had to give her a sedative prescribed for heavy emotional swings to calm her down enough to sleep. They hadn’t spoken much for the rest of the day—they’d gone for their walk, taken their swim, made lunch and dinner, and gone about their day in quiet, but he’d been trying to hold his anxiety back the whole time.

Guthrie had said so little about his childhood, but what hehadsaid had left shivers down Tad’s spine. Tad could talk about being a latchkey kid and being in charge of April all he wanted, but at the end, their mother came home, made them dinner, checked their homework, and sat with them on the couch as they watched television and talked about their day. She’d taken them places on the weekends, spoke warmly about their father, who had passed away when April was a baby, and made sure they had clothes that fit and somebody in their corner on their good days and their bad. When Tad had come out as a teenager, his mother had told him she’d always love him and then had hugged him when he’d gotten tearful and emotional because that’s what youdidwhen you shared your heart with a parent. She’d baked birthday cakes and cookies—and yelled sometimes because kids were a handful, but laughed a lot more and most importantlycared.Shecaredabout the two of them. Losing her was hard because she’d left a hole in their hearts; it was as simple as that.

A simple, profound loss would leave a simple, profound hole.

Tad had no idea what the loss of Guthrie’s father would do to him.

And Guthrie had justleft, promising he’d return. OfcourseTad believed him. There was nothing about Guthrie—not a thing—that said he’d wander off into the sunset. Besides the fact that Tad had his drum kit, which Tad knew was a big deal to him, even if his clothes weren’t, there was Guthrie’s innate sense of honor. Of decency. If he promised, he’d follow through unless the devil himself stepped in to stop him.

Tad just wished he knew who the devil was, in case Guthrie needed help.

“If it helps,” April said after a silence that went on too long, “he… he wasn’t going back to help his daddy. I mean, that’s what he was going to be doing, but not who he was doing it for.”

Tad blinked and frowned. “Who, then?”

“His uncle. Jock or Jocko or whatever.” She let out a hurt sound. “Guthrie was going to say no. I was standing by the window, thinking, ‘Do it, man—do it! Don’t let guilt take you away from us!’”

“What’d Jock say?” Tad asked, as riveted now as April must have been then.

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