Father and Son by Larry Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

hills and ridges where there was no traffic but himself. There was one beer left on the seat and he groped about on the dash for the opener and held the car to the road with his elbow while he pried off the cap. He tossed it out the window and took a sip from the bottle, shifting his left foot around on the floorboard and then resting the bottle between his legs.
    He drove unmolested through those quiet increments of the night to the edge of the forest and onto a blacktop road, turned at the mailbox, and eased up the drive to halt in front of his father’s house, where he pushed off the headlights and killed the ignition. Long moments there on the seat with the blackness looming through the glass and his hands shaking just a little. The dim light in the front room beckoning him to rest from his labors. He could not see his face in the rearview mirror, could not see what his eyes thought. He got out and took the keys to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk. The bulb in the trunk was burned out but he could see the shotgun across the spare tire. He picked it up and closed the trunk and went through the dark yard, up the steps and into the house through the torn screen door. He stopped in the living room suddenly. The television was still on and Virgil had turned onto his stomach in his sleep. The Redbone puppy still whined at the back door. He walked in the half dark back to his old room, leaned the gun in the corner, and undressed quickly. He hadn’t slept in this house in a very long time.
    He could smell the must of the sheets when he pulled the covers back, but he slipped in under them and turned the pillow over and punched it with his fist and put his head down on it. The house was quiet. He could see the dim glow of the television up the hall. There was a scratching at the back door and then some more whining and finally toenails clicking over linoleum. He raised up in the bed and saw the puppy slinkup the hall, tail slowly wagging, and disappear into the living room. He lay back down and closed his eyes still working the pump slide in his mind’s eye, still hearing the silent explosions in his brain, wondering if he’d be able to get to sleep. But after a while the puppy came in and nosed at him and he didn’t know anything about that.

Morning. Bobby fanned at a fly that rose from his cheek and opened his eyes and looked at the green walls around him. He sat up. His back was hurting from sleeping on the couch again. The clock on the wall showed 6:15. His boots were on the floor beside the couch and he pulled them on and got up. There was a small bathroom just outside his office and he went in there to look in the mirror. He needed a shave, always did. He turned the water on in the sink and ran his comb under it and started running it through his hair. A door opened somewhere in the jail and then closed.
    â€œThat you, Jake?”
    â€œYeah,” came the answer. “Good mornin.”
    â€œMornin. We got any coffee?”
    â€œI’ll make it. You been here all night?”
    â€œI laid down about two.”
    He put his comb back in his pocket and went into his office and opened the top drawer of his desk. There was an electric razor in there and he plugged it in next to the lamp and started shaving. After a while Jake came to the door with a paper cup of coffee and leaned in the doorway. “How come you to spend the night?”
    â€œI didn’t mean to. Laid down to close my eyes for a minute and I justnow woke up. What about Byers?”
    Jake hooked a thumb in his belt and blew on his coffee. He had to think about it before he spoke.
    â€œNot much. Did two years in the army and worked in Detroit for six months. What time you want to go down there?”
    Bobby unplugged the razor and put it away. There was a small closet in the corner and he stripped off his shirt and threw it into a gym bag on the floor and pulled a clean uniform shirt off a hanger. He put it on and