The Country Duet(48)

“Excuse us.” I flip up the welding helmet to see two men at the entrance of the shop.

I look over to Dave, who’s staring at them as well. Not out of character, he puts his head back down, focusing on the parts in his hands and completely ignores them. If there’s anything I’ve learned about Dave, it’s that he is not a people person.

“Our truck got stuck down at the motorcycle track, and we need some help.”

Dave doesn’t acknowledge them, so naturally, they look to me. Familiar pangs of embarrassment stream through me. You’d think I would’ve had thick skin by now, used to Dave’s ignorant behavior.

“We could use a tow rope and some help.”

Once again, the statement goes unrecognized by Dave. The tense situation thickens with each second of silence.

“I have a truck,” I admit after a long pause.

“Any chance you could help us?” he asks.

Metal clambers to the fractured cement floor, sending a piercing sound resonating throughout the shop. The men jump in surprise.

“What are they saying?” Dave turns to me, asking.

“They need help…”

He doesn’t wait for me to finish my sentence before tearing into the men standing in the doorway.

“Are you paying this boy?” Dave growls. “Didn’t think so. Get the fuck lost.”

I stand here, blinking in shock. The other two men are mimicking my gesture. I can hear their internal thoughts and dialogue scream out to me. I’m guessing it’s a response they hadn’t been expecting.

“Sorry, sir.”

Dave cranes his neck to look at me. I know he couldn’t hear them, but also know translating for him will do no good.

“Get the fuck out. This is private property, and it’s illegal for you assholes to be on it. Get the fuck out!” he roars.

The two men turn and leave. Even though this has happened a handful of times now, I’ll never feel comfortable during it. I open my mouth and then close it, knowing it will do no good talking to him. The first day back at Dave’s is just like the good old times, with nothing changing.

“Let’s call it a day,” Dave announces after another hour of work.

“Sounds good.” I nod to him at the perfect stopping point.

He only takes a few steps before I pick him up. His bones are grinding so loud, they are mixed with his groans of pain. The only change on the farm is Dave’s health. His body is worsening day by day, leaving him hopeless.

I scoop him up in my arms with no warnings, and just like all the other times he doesn’t protest. His scruff has grown back in, making me wonder how long it’s been since he's showered. If I were a betting man, I’d guess the last time was the day he left the nursing home.

“Dinner?” I ask, placing him in the recliner.

“Got a shake here.”

“Dave, your fridge is filled with fresh food and most of it’s going to waste. All you have to do is warm it up.”

“No, shit,” he replies.

Dave’s exhausted from our day out in the shop, so I think better of engaging in an argument with him and heat him up a meal instead. You’d think he’d fight against it, but he doesn’t. He begins slurping it down. While he eats, I make my way to his bedroom. The bottles are stacked deep once again, and there’s a pot next to his bed. There’s a bucket with a lid.

I recognize the bucket right away. Before I left to go home, he asked me to buy him four to put food in, so it didn’t stink up the house. Of course, I bought him several of them, always doing what he asked.

With caution, I twist the lid and lift it. This time there’s no warning before the combined smell hits me. The smell so pungent, I step back gagging, feeling my stomach twist in pain. He’d went from using the bottles to also using the bucket. But with rotting food in it, it created a stench like I’ve never smelled. I race to the bathroom while fighting to steady the immediate reflex of gagging, but it doesn’t help. I barely make it to the toilet before I lose the contents of my stomach.

I’ve seen, smelled, and been elbow deep in nasty situations on the ranch, but nothing could have prepared me for that. It takes me long moments before I’m able to go back to Dave’s room and finish cleaning it up. I strip the bedding from his bed, then toss it in the washer.

Dave’s dozing off in his recliner by the time I get back to him.

“Up for a shower?” I ask him, tapping his shoulder.

“Yeah.” His voice is groggy.

Even though it’s been months, we easily go through our routine of showering him. Once he’s dressed in his signature black t-shirt and sweatpants, I shave him without him having to ask. The smile lighting up his face is contagious as the final swipe of the razor runs over his cheek.

It’s funny how this time it’s second nature shaving him, unlike the first time. I didn’t hesitate a second before doing it. Taking a small step back, I grin down at Dave, then spin my trucker hat backward on my head. “Looking good, old man.”

“Better keep that hot piece of ass close to you, Hunter, or I’ll nab her.”

I still haven’t had the heart to tell him about Teale. Each syllable would slice my tongue, leaving my heart bleeding on the floor.

“The bucket?” I ask, changing the subject.