-1-

I’d been working at the New Orleans Naval Base for nearly a year and had somehow avoided landing behind Commander Briggs desk. 

Until today

I'd come in everyday and done my job like clockwork. I can’t think of what I’ve done that was exemplary. Which meant I’d done something terribly wrong.

The Commander is in his early 50’s but he wasn’t a stickler for regulations and seemed cool most of the time. When he took the team out for drinks he always bought first round and he wasn’t afraid to talk shit.

“When were you going to ask me ?,” Briggs asks the minute I sit down in the chair across from his desk.

“I’m sorry, sir ?” 

“I was preparing for your 9 month performance review and in your paperwork from the Academy it says you wanted an AST recommendation,” the Commander says. "Is that correct ?"

“Yes, sir.” I

At the Academy one of my instructor’s had invited me and some other cadets to a presentation from the Aviation Survival Technician school. AST school was supposed to be brutal as hell, but I’d put it on my jobs applications as a goal because I was addicted to that kind of shit. I’d gotten so used to being pushed at school that I didn’t want to stop once I graduated.

“At the joint admirals meeting we were informed a new class is going into an AST training camp,” Commander Briggs continued. “You should have asked me to write you a recommendation. I’ve heard about your antics at the gym…you’re in excellent shape.”

 I pause. Sometimes Athens and I got a little crazy during work outs, but we both had energy to burn.

“I wanted to—want to, sir  but things have changed. AST school is  a year long commitment and my wife is pregnant.”

His eyebrows shoot up but he forces a pleasant smile.

“Congratulations,” he says folding my file. “I see your predicament Clark, but I think you should at least go to training camp. It’s only three weeks and it will give you some idea of what it will take to prepare for AST school.”

I nod.

“I could probably swing three weeks,” I tell him. “But to be honest I’m not sure if I’m supposed to--”

“That’s between you and your wife," he cuts me off. " I’m sure you know there are support groups on base for spouses--”

“We’re not on base, sir,” I tell him. “We live in Freeport, all my family is there.”

 He nods at this.

“That's even better. If you want my advice you should do it sooner than later. Trust me, you’ll never be more fit than you are now and you should do it before your child can remember you’ve been gone.”

“Son.”  I say. “She’s having a boy.”

 

***

 -2-

 “Ay, be careful with that, boy !”  Wil Giroux chastises me. He runs up behind me and snatches the half full beer bottle out of my right hand.

“I ain’t a dumbass,” I shout. I knew what I was doing. I aim the Colt revolver towards the stack of paint cans and pull the trigger. The power of the kickback  jolts me and I stumble backwards onto my ass.

“You’re drunk, Rhett Clark!” someone yells behind me.

I feel only a little bit buzzed  but I'd miss the stacked paint cans completely.

“Am not!,”  I shout back, standing, but I sound slurry—even to me. I'd started the night with shots like a god damn idiot.

Beside me Wil’s 24-year-old sister, McKayla, has a similar revolver--only hers has a magenta trigger. She steadies her arm and shoots the empty Coke bottle clean off the stack of paint cans.

The crowd gathered on the back porch behind us hoots and hollers.

“Show off,” I tease her and she flicks me off.

McKayla was a good shot because she’s been a regional NRA shooting champion since she was in middle school.

I take a few more lazy shots at the paint cans  until Wil takes the gun back  from me. I’ve never  been a good shot, but I love the feeling of a gun in my hand—I liked the power. The only gun I owned was my Dad’s pistol and it was a piece of shit. Wil on the other hand had was a collector—his collection probably cost over half a million.

Wil was married to my cousin Aubrey and they  lived 20 miles outside of Freeport, out in the middle of nowehere between the parish limits and the swamp. Wil got an inheritance from a great Uncle and bought 5 acres of land and built their house from scratch in the middle of it.  With no neighbors for a few miles  he and Aubrey always threw the best house parties—I hadn’t been to one in forever.

A bonfire was roaring, the music was blaring and the keg and the grill were full. I spent most of my week stressed about work and worrying about Juliana in Connecticut and I finally decided I needed to relax.

By the time the sun  set and we were all on our way to a nice buzz. Wil had brought out some of his gun collection and we’d started shooting at the makeshift targets.

Savannah had invited Caleb to the party and she was cheering him on as he tried to hit the targets even though I knew she was just as good with a handgun. I hated how she pretended like she was all freaked out by  guns now that Caleb was around.

“I wanna go next!,” Sam, Wil and Aubrey's 9-year-old son, whined running towards his dad.

“Over my dead body,” Aubrey says  jerking Sam away and looking pointedly at me. “Ya’ll are too drunk to be handling guns, shut this down before I get Cousin Jocelyn on ya’ll.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say saluting her. Aubrey sneers at me before yelling at Sam to go play inside. She starts back to the house, clumsily walking through the grass in high heels.

One of Wil’s friends make a whip sound as Wil quickly collects the guns and puts them back in their cases.  

Aubrey was my only first cousin on my Dad’s side but she was closest to Mama. Her father was Deacon and my Dad’s older brother, but I hardly remember him and no one talked to him. When Aubrey was 17 and I was 5 he went to prison for 40  years for killing Aubrey's Mama during some  coke fueled rage. 

After he was sentenced Mama helped Aubrey go to beauty school and they’d worked together at Hair Cuttery for years until Mama got laid off.  Now Aubrey had left the Hair Cuttery to work with Mama.

Wil and Aubrey always reminded me of a rockstar couple, they were both attractive, tall as hell, loud as fuck  and if they were in the right mood they hyped each other up. They'd never let anything stop their party from going

I help Wil carry the guns to the locked vault in his basement. Wil’s basement was like his own personal sports bar. He had it decked out with a big screen TV, full bar and leather sectionals.

When we go down the basement stairs I see Uncle Deacon standing at the bar with a woman I’ve never met—they’re opening up a  mason jar of moonshine.

“Hey, pour me a glass,” I tell Deacon once Wil and I get all the guns  locked up.

“This shit will fuck you up, nephew,” Deacon laughs but hands me a half full glass anyway.

 More of the men from the party had wandered down to the basement. I think they wanted to get away from the easy listening country and family friendly language. I don’t know most of them but we crowd into the leather sofa in front of the  flatscreen where the Saints game was playing.

“How’s life treating you, cuz ?,” Wil asks sitting next to me and  knocking his beer bottle into my glass of moonshine.

I throwback the moonshine so I don’t look like a bitch in front of these guys. To my surprise the moonshine isn’t terrible and taste faintly like apples.

“Alright,” I shrug. “I mean…I’m freaked out about being a dad but we still got time.”

“That freaked out feeling never passes,” Wil laughs. “Not even by kid three.”

“Thanks for that,” I tell him sarcastically.

Wil puts his arm around me.

“It’s ain’t so hard the first few months as long as the kid ain’t sick or nothing,” Wil says. “Infants stay where you put em’ so you can take ‘em places----”

“Its when they start walking that you never sleep or stand still again,” one of Wil’s friends adds and some of the other men laugh.

“Don’t worry about it. nephew," Deacons smiles tipping a little more moonshine into my glass." If there is any man in this family who can’t fuck up being a daddy  it’s you. You’re the last hope too cause your old Uncle’s been snipped for a decade.”

A few people howl with laughter, probably not realizing how dark the joke was.  Dad's dad was an abusive drunk. My dad was dead and Aubrey's Dad was a murderer.

Everyone on the  Clark side of my  family thought I was infallible because I went to college and had successfully avoided drug addiction, teen pregnancy and jail. Most of them didn’t even know I’d even gone to United Light. They didn’t know I was the biggest fuck up in the room.

“Just remember, Rhett you can always come out here and skeet shoot to take your aggression out and not on the Coach’s boy,” Wil says with a shit eating grin.

News of my fight with Cody had spread quickly. I thought I'd out grown my impusle to start fights but I guess I hadn't. Usually Cody would be here hanging with me but he’s probably in jail  or on house arrest now. I hadn’t bothered to find out.

“He deserved it,” I mumble.

“You better be careful,” someone says.  “You know Coach Grady got connections.”

 “He's right. Coach could call in a favor and have your ass in jail for assault and you’d be charged as an adult.” Wil reminds me.

That pissed me off. Cody was the only person Juliana had trusted to talk about her incarceration and he knew how much going back freaked her out, but he hadn't let that stop him from keeping a pipe in the car with her. Sometime it felt like Cody never learned unless you physically knocked some sense into him.

“I’d like to see him fucking try,” I retort. “Coach owes me too fucking much for taking care of Cody  in high school.  I should have cracked Cody’s face in half-”

A few men mumble in disapproval because you don’t talk shit about the varsity football coach, but I didn’t care.  If anyone ever got out of this town they’d realize how bullshit high school was.

“You’re one arrogant son of a bitch, cuz” Wil cuts me off. “Always ready for a fight--”

“Nah, he ain't stupid.  The boy’s just young, dumb and full of come,” Deacon says loudly, probably to embarrass me. “When does your cute little wife get back in town ? What's it been, a month ? ,”

“Don’t matter,” Wil grins. “Honeymoon is over and the ways she is now she ain’t going to let him touch her--"

"Unless you get her drunk," another guy laughs.

"Nah," Wil says. "I ain’t never seen his girl drink and she ain't going to be able to for while. Pregnancy is no joke."

"Knocking her up the first time," one of Deacon's truck driver friend's shouts. "I thought you were supposed to educate this boy, Deac ?,"

Deacon shakes his head and rubs his fist into my head, I smack it away.

"Hey, I taught this dumbass how to pull out when he in middle school," Deacon says. "Not my fault he's too stupid to know how to jump the gun. Hell, even I managed it for 30 years drunk and sober"

"That's cause his girl was a virgin and you don't know a thing about that, Deacon," someone said and they laugh. "A girl that young has that nice tight pussy-,"

"Alright," Deacon says throwing an empty bottle at the man. "That's my niece ya'll talkin' about."

I keep drinking and pretend to be really into the game. Not even I liked to fuck with Deacon's friends--they were mostly assholes but t some were crazy motherfuckers.

Once they put together that Juliana got pregnant in our first two weeks together, making crass jokes about my sex life was Deacon and Wil's new favorite topic, but they never talked about Juliana like that. 

At around midnight most of the party starts leaving--including Savannah and mama. As the night goes on it’s becoming real clear I’m staying the night because I was passed shitfaced.

-3-

Just when I think things are winding down and I can go find a place to pass out some of Deacon’s neighbors come over to watch the recorded game on the flat screen. Deacon had lived in the same trailer park, or mobile home center as they liked to call Choctaw Park, since I was a kid and they all greet me by name and I recognize their faces, but I don’t know them that well.

“Hey, not in front of the kid,” Deacon says sharply to one of his friends in a low voice.

I turn my head in his direction just in time to see one of them wrapping a plastic band around his arm with a syringe in the other. I avert my eyes as he pauses mid motion. Wil suddenly stands up and puts a hand on my back.

“Come on, college boy. We should go help Aubrey clean up or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

I feel like a killjoy, but I’d always made a point of not doing drugs, especially after everything Mama went through. We head upstairs, the only people still upstairs are Aubrey and McKayla—who are loading the dishwasher and drinking beer listening to rock music. Audrey was still wearing a  high heels even though everyone was gone. She and Wil's three kids were playing with Legos in the living room.

“What are the little monsters still doing up ?,” Wil asks, gesturing to the kids and taking a dish from her.

“Too much sugar,” Aubrey says giving him a loud peck with her bright red  lips. It leaves lipstick marks on his cheek and both she and McKayla are so drunk they think this is hilarious.

 “I said they could stay up until I went to bed," she says.

“Okay, put us to work, babe.” Wil smiles.

Aubrey puts her hands on his hips and looks around the empty living room and kitchen.

“Ya’ll can bring the chairs in from outside,” Aubrey says. “Otherwise the critters get to them.”

It’s was probably a farce watching our drunk asses try and bring all the chairs inside.We get half the chairs inside when the kids are suddenly no longer entertained by the Legos. They start running round and after a soft ‘be careful’ from Aubrey I watch 9-year-old Sam  slip and run right into the kitchen table, cracking his head.

Sam is stunned for a minute and then starts bawling, holding on to his head.

A bottle of red wine sitting on the edge of the table falls and shatters on the floor. Red rivulets run into the living room staining the carpet.

“Shit!,” Aubrey hisses getting on her knees and blotting the carpet with her shiny halter top.”Shit, shit shit. SAM LOOK WHAT YOU DID!”

“I’m sorry--,” Sam starts to say through tears, but Wil grabs the kid by his arm and jerks him away from the wine stain and towards the living room couch.

“Why the fuck are you crying ?," Wil shouts at him. "What have I told you ? You're too old for that shit and what have I told  ya’ll about running in the house, huh ?"

Sam looks terrified, his lip is trembling and before he can say anything Wil takes his belt off and starts laying into the kid. Within seconds Sam’s bawling louder and wailing  as he fights against Wil'sh old.

Aubrey abandons the wine stain and starts approaching Wil slowly with her arms folded and her eyes wet. There is a red stain on her top from where she tried to clean the wine and it looks like she’s been shot in the stomach.

“Alright, I think he’s learned his lesson. Sam, have you learned your lesson ?,”  Aubrey says but Sam only responds in hiccupping gulps.

Wil doesn’t let up with the belt and Sam is screaming so hard he starts choking.

“Alright, Wil,” Aubrey says. “ I think it’s bedtime now.”

“YOU GOTTA STOP BABYING HIM ALL THE DAMN TIME,” Wil screams at her.

“I am not. I just said that’s enough,” Aubrey responds sternly. “God dammit, Wil you're so stupid—why don’t you help clean the fucking wine stain---

“Shut the fuck up, Aubrey,”  Wil shouts

Aubrey crosses her arms and shoots me a look between disgust and annoyance. She turns to McKayla and with a look that is almost imperceptible to me tells McKayla to take the younger kids—who also look really upset now—upstairs.

Sam is apologizing and begging through wet, wheezing coughs. He's hyperventilating and I want to step in and stop Wil’s but I feel frozen

“WIL I SAID ENOUGH!,” Aubree screams and stomps her heel in the carpet. She comes in between Sam and Wil  and jerks Sam away.

She brushes back his hair to look at the spot where he hit his head and kisses it.

 “You're fine, baby. Go upstairs and go to bed now,” she tells the sniffling Sam.

The living room is deadly silent except for the sound of Sam going up the stairs. The moment his footsteps disappear  Aubrey launches herself at Wil; she slaps him hard across the face. She goes to do it again, but he slaps her hand away and shoves her into the wall.

“Don’t you ever disrespect me in front of the kids, do you hear me ?” Will yells, spitting in her face. “I don’t do that shit to you--”

“Because I actually know how to parent,” Aubrey cuts him off. “You always take it too far like you got something to fucking prove--”

“Disrespectful bitch--”

“Hey, ya’ll need to chill,” I finally say.  I know it’s too little too late.

Aubrey looks at me like she forgot I was there and then storms upstairs. Will slams his fist into the wall  and then  goes back to the basement without another look to me.

The wine is still staining the carpet.

I decide to  just fuck it and go home.

It takes all my energy to concentrate on keeping the truck on the dark country back roads—I’m way to drunk to be driving on the roads like this. I start to see double and I know I’m not going to make it to my apartment so I just go to Mama’s house. When I pull into the driveway I open my car door just in time to puke into the bushes.

---

-4-

I’m jolted  awake by a loud banging and a splitting headache.

I’d fallen asleep all folded up in the driver’s seat of my truck

I turn to see Mama standing at the car window and she looks pissed. I slowly  roll down the car window.

"Good Mor--"

“If you’re going to get so drunk you sleep in my driveway then you’re going to come to church with me, Rhett Joseph Clark and personally thank the Lord you didn’t kill yourself last night.” Mama snaps at me.

I turn my head to look at my watch.

“It’s 6 AM ,” I tell her closing my eyes. Not even she went to church this early.

“I know what time it is.” she retorts. “I’m going to do Nina Hudson’s hair—her daughter is being christened today. When I come back to get your sister you better be dressed and ready to go.”

“Fine,” Is all I say.

When Mama gets in her car I consider just bailing but I’m still to chickenshit to cross her. I go inside the house, shower and change into a set of clothes I left in the closet.  My head is killing me so I search all of Mama’s  hiding places until I find a Vicodin in the bottom of a box of tampons. I take half of the pill and put the other half in my pocket.

I sit with Savannah in the kitchen while she eats breakfast and  wait for the Vicodin to kick in. She’s telling me something about the Sunday school she teaches but I’m not listening.

It’s not just  that I don’t like church or don’t believe in God . It’s that I think it is all bullshit and everyone involved is a fucking liar. In  towns like Freeport they use religion to control people and to make dumb people dumber. It’s just as bad as UL, if not worse since no one will ever question it.

When Mama gets back we drive all the way to Mississippi to go to Southaven Bible Church with my Nana. We listen to Pat Robertson on the radio the entire way because that is literally the only station that plays until noon. At church we have to sit in the front row of the congregation with Nana while the senior pastor, this 92-year-old who I think came with the building, goes into one of his favorite two hours sermons about how all the young people are going to hell because of music or some bullshit.

Aunt Macy lives near the church and afterwards I'm  forced to go to her house for lunch. In her divorce Aunt Macy got to keep the pristine split level brick home in an upper class Mississippi subdivision. She had four kids under the age of 8 that she homeschooled but they were trained like dogs and  house was always so quiet.

Aunt Macy and Mama stayed in the kitchen gossiping about literally everyone at church and arguing about the temperature to cook meatloaf.

“Hey, can I watch the game ?,” I ask Aunt Macy wandering into the kitchen. "Where's the remote?,"

“We don’t turn the television on Sundays, honey but I’m recording it,” Aunt Macy responds pushing back her short bangs. “I’ll turn the radio speakers on though.”

It’s more Pat Robertson.

I loved my Aunt Macy because she was family, but she was a religious nutbag—it was the main reason her husband left her.

I sit on Aunt Macy’s red velvet couch between my Nana and Uncle Ramsey, Mama’s younger brother. His son, my cousin West is 20-years-old and goes to some Bible college in Mississippi. I think we could be closer but he was practically raised by my  grandfather and believed a lot of that righteous holy roller bullshit.

“Now, honey you know I love you, but I don’t like you living in sin with that young blonde girl,” Nana says when I sit down. “When are you going to get married ? I saw a dress at Filiene's I could wear to the ceremony”

As far as I knew my grandparents had always been really poor, but for some reason my Nana was always ready to coordinate a new outfit for any occasion she was (or wasn't) invited too. Even now her bright pink nails matched the flowers on the dress she was wearing.

“I am married, Nana,” I remind her, holding up my left hand where I wore Dad's band. I let my arm rest across her bony shoulder. “You know we went to the courthouse. You wanna see the pictures again ?”

Nana wasn’t losing her mind, she knew we’d gotten married at the courthouse. She was just passive aggressive as fuck.
We had invited her to come to the courthouse, but she said she'd just come to the "real" wedding--even though I'd told her there wouldn't be a "real" wedding.

“You need to be married in the eyes of the Lord before the baby comes,” she tells me, adjusting her blonde wig  “We’re a family legacy at Southaven Bible Church and the whole family needs to be an example….Have you even talked to that young Rev. Ellis about the christening ?”

“I don’t know. J ain’t really religious,” I tell her.

“I’m sure. Poor girl is a Yankee, in fact I think that new young Rev. Ellis is one of them too. Henrietta thinks he is a liberal.” Nana says to Uncle Ramsey and West like they don’t already think all of that.. “But Rhett, sweetie you’re the head of your family now and it’s your responsibility to be a moral role model.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I said

I smile thinking about what Nana would do if I told her I got shitfaced last night, tried to drive home intoxicated and that the only thing keeping me from puking all over Aunt Macy's carpet was the Vicodin I stole from her daughter.

She mistakes my smiling for listening and she kisses me on the cheek.

“Rhett...It can be hard when God gives you things you aren’t ready for, but we’re proud you are doing the right thing and settling down and making this…. unforeseen blessing into a good thing.” Uncle Ramsey adds uncomfortably.

I scoff. Uncle Ramsey worked his way through two college degrees, had a cushy management level office job,  sat on boards, never drank, played club sports on the weekend and loved church. He probably would have been a better Dad role model than Deacon—but Deacon was the only one who bothered to actually show up for me.

“Not that it matters but she got pregnant after we got married. Trust me,”  I tell Uncle Ramsey “And if God was there when that happened then he is into some messed up shit--”

Nana smacks my arm hard.

“Stop. You need to take this seriously, Rhett,” Uncle Ramsey says. “Having a family is a lot of responsibility. It’s time to grow up.”

I see West shifting uncomfortably. I’d actually bet money West has no idea where babies came from. As much as I liked torturing them, my head hurt and I couldn’t do this anymore.

“Nana, can I borrow your keys ?,” I ask. “I need to go home and do some work. Cody and I will bring the car back.”

Cody’s name just slips out because I’m so used to having him around to help me. Nana can’t say no to me and she gives me her keys. I don’t even bother saying good bye to anyone. I just leave.

I try and call Juliana, but she doesn't pick up.

I could go to my apartment, but it’s too quiet and too lonely without Juliana. I drive the hour to the New Orleans base to get some time in at the gym, only to find  the gym is closed on Sundays. I turn around and drive the hour back to Freeport and go to Rooster’s. I call Juliana three more  times but she doesn't pick up and I get a little freaked out.

The bar is mostly empty but I spot Deacon eating at a booth with a girl and some of the guys from last night. He waves me over, but I shake my head—I didn’t want to interrupt  and I had a feeling they were about to leave to do more of what they did last night.

I sit at the bar for hours watching the game and drinking whiskey. My phone rings and I know it’s Mama and she’s pissed so I don’t answer.

When the game ends and I feel properly buzzed I drive back to the apartment and lay on Juliana’s side of the bed. I’d missed her while I was in Hawaii but I missed her more now. It was harder being in a place filled with remnants of her and places where she should be.

God, we had to get out of this town.

Somewhere in the last 24 hours I’d decided I was leaving for A School

I was just going to hope she understood.

As I pull my shirt off I hear the phone ring. I look at the caller ID  to see the Reese's house number.

"I'm sorry--we were out," she answers and it breaks my heart that she's apologizing to me like I was some asshole. I decide to make a joke out of it.

"You really shouldn't be going to raves pregnant--," I tease her.

 ----

A/N

So, in the last chapter this conversation ends with Rhett saying he is coming to Conneticut for Christmas.