Moth(8)

Finally, I take a much needed shower. It seems like weeks have gone by since I was in the presence of Ali, but it’s been twenty four hours. I’m exhausted and hope I can catch some Z’s while in the air. I put on some clean clothes and head out, saying goodbye to my apartment yet again.



As soon as the flight takes off I’m out. I only wake when the stewardess tells me we’ve landed. Half the plane has already exited. That just tells me how much I needed the rest.

The rental car places are closed so I’m forced to take a cab. I leave out of Richmond and head to West Point where my father resides. I cringe at the cab fair, but pay it anyway because I have no other choice. As the car pulls away I stand on the sidewalk and stare at my old childhood house. He’s changed the siding. Even in the dark I can tell it’s a brighter color rather than the dark gray it used to be. The porch light comes on as I approach. I duck behind a bush and feel around on the ground for the hide a key in the shape of a rock. The azaleas are overgrown and I’m getting pricked with each movement. Finally I come upon what I’m searching for. I slide the bottom to the side and a key falls into my hand.

I walk up the three steps to the wrap around porch and insert my key in the lock. As soon as it turns and I enter I hear the click of a handgun’s safety being released. “You picked the wrong house to rob, son. Unless you want to die, I’d turn your ass around and forget you came here.”

Without a second’s thought I maneuver swiftly removing the gun from his possession. Then I take my opposite hand and flick on the light switch. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got nothing anyone would want, old man.”

He places his hands in the pockets of his robe and shakes his head while giving me a once over. “I see some things never change. You look like hell, boy.”

No matter what I do this man will never be proud of me. He’s not wired to show affection, and I suppose in some ways I’m the same. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship, and I’m certainly not the kind of guy who sticks around after hooking up with a woman. I can’t remember the last time I’ve hugged someone. Maybe it was my mother or possibly a victim I brought to safety, and there’s no intimacy to that kind of act. “I got here as fast as I could.” I skip the greeting part, because I know neither of us wants the awkwardness that it comes with.

“You could have waited until morning. With a face like that, it’s a wonder you’re not mistaken for a criminal. When’s the last time you shaved?”

I try to think about it, but can’t even recall. I needed to blend in for my job. Growing facial hair, even a partial beard was necessary. His military style haircut is like a neon sign pointing to police or armed forces. I can’t even remember the last time I’d cut my hair like that, probably in the Marines before I became a cop. I really let myself go when I joined the DEA. Nevertheless, my appearance is none of his business. “If me staying here is a problem I’ll get a room at the Hyatt.”

He motions like it’s no big deal. “No need. You know where your room is.” I watch him walk up the stairs without another word. It’s not the time to ask about Jamie, so I retreat to my old bedroom located in the basement. Just as I suspect, my room is filled with miscellaneous junk he’s acquired through the years. There are boxes labeled as tax documents on my bed. My dresser is covered in half-used paint cans, and there is a pressure washer preventing me from walking into the half bath. I sigh and toss my bag down before getting to work clearing the area.

Once I’m in bed I notice how musty it smells. It’s obvious he hasn’t cleaned for years. I’m wondering if I’ll be riddled with bites from dust mites after sleeping a few hours, so I grab my things and head back upstairs.

Jamie’s room was the only one on the first floor of the three level home. I’m not sure why my dad hasn’t switched out so he doesn’t have to keep going up and down the stairs, but I choose not to question his decisions. Once inside the room I switch on the light and look around. It’s just as I suspected. Jamie hasn’t been here in a long time. I’m not going to find any answers here. It’s in pristine condition. Figures.

I find refuge on the living room sofa. It’s old and the wear and tear have left it comfortable. Only a few hours later I hear him coming down the stairs. He’s coughing up a storm as he makes his way to the kitchen. Before I sit up I hear the coffee pot percolating. I check my phone and see it’s five o’clock. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and stand, stretching before hitting the head to relieve myself. As I exit I see him standing there in front of me. “What’s wrong with your room?”

“It’s filthy, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Well this ain’t the Ritz, ya know. It’s not like I planned on losing a son.”

It wouldn’t be right to offer condolences. I know he doesn’t need my sympathy. “What happened? How did he die?”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t bring him back.”

“Dad, if you won’t tell me I’ll find out myself. Save me the trip.”

“Do what you need to do. Nothing that paperwork says is going to be true. Your brother wasn’t that kind of man. He wouldn’t ruin his life like they’re saying.”

Pushing him will only make it worse. I know it’s up to me to visit the police station or the morgue for answers.