Page 18 of Duke

We had a huge fight about how overprotective he was of me, and my senior year the leash loosened... not by much but enough for me to get my first kiss and a trip to third base.

Pops takes a sip of his coffee, continuing, “Your mothermet some guy in Hollywoodwho promisedher he knew a producer and would get heron a soap opera or some shit. Of course,it was a lie. She tried to come crawling back, butI was done. I was completelyfed-up with her bullshit. I cut her off, and she latched onto somebody else. She always was a shit mother. I’m sorry. I know I raised you rough, but I did the best I could."

"I had a great childhood.” I lie. “Please don't think otherwise. I love living out here. But it's all I've known. I want to experience new things. I crave adventure. Is that so bad?"

He sighs, sitting back taking a deep breath. "I can't protect you out there."

"Protect me from what?"

"The world baby girl, the world."

I sigh, "I'm street-smart Pops. I don't take any shit from drunks at the bar. I can handle myself."

"You have Meat and Federico there."

“I can handle myself.”

He sighs again before raising his mug to his lips. “Maybe I’ve kept my baby bird in the cage for too long. I need to set you free, and yet I’m terrified to let you go.”

“Eat up. I’m not going anywhere for now. I have to finish my classes at Bradbury and run the bar.”

I don’t want him anymore upset than he already is. I can tell the memories of bad blood coupled with the news of his old friend’s death were enough of a blow this morning. I don’t want to add my hunger for adventure to his burdens today. My coffee has gotten cold; pushing my chair back I pop it in the microwave. My eyes once again drawn to the brilliant colors of fall outside our window, but as thoughts of Duke fill my head—I go blind, only seeing him.

I’m completely lost.

His lips feel like fire, but his words leave me ice-cold.

He’s my enemy.

His touch makes me weak.

He’s fire.

He’s ice.

But I’m old enough to know both burn.

As I open the passenger door to help Pops get out, a light breeze blows the hair back from my face.

He waves me off with his cane struggling to carry his oxygen tank.

“I’ve got it.” Ignoring his attempts to shoo me back, I help him exit my beat-up Honda. The mid-morning sun does little to quell the bite of fall in Oregon. The leaves crunch under our feet as we follow Meat’s directions to Duke’s father’s grave. I put an arm around Pops’ waist. His pride won’t allow him to lean on me and I try not to notice how deep his cane sinks into the ground with every step he takes.

The burden of saying goodbye to his old friend is weighing on him. I can’t even imagine the life he lived when I was a baby. Pops was wild and reckless—feared for miles, and now he’s as slow and cumbersome as they come, everyday living has become hard.

His gait slows as we approach fresh dirt and his heavy breathing becomes even more labored.

“Ah, fuck.” He stops short and swipes a hand over his face.

“You—old bastard,” he mutters under his breath. “You had to go out without saying goodbye, huh.”

Pops sighs and I swear I see the glistening of tears in his eyes. Deciding to give him a minute alone to grieve, I take a few steps back before turning around running straight into a brick wall.

Duke.

The smell of him surrounds me; pine soap and leather.

My hands press gently on his chest and his hands rest lightly on my waist.

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