Page 5

Rolling my eyes, I started scrolling again for something to hang. “Hey, if you lived here, what would you add to it?”

“Like…beer?”

“Decorations.”

He frowned at me. “I’m not following. You want beer decorations?”

“No, maybe a picture.”

“Yeah, I guess that would work. What wall are you thinking of putting it on?”

“I have to choose a wall?” I sighed, looking around at all the space. “I guess the living room. One should do it, don’t you think?”

“I mean…I guess. Don’t look at me. Honey does all the decorating.”

“Just something small. I don’t want to take up too much space and have people coming over, talking about my pictures. That’s just weird.”

“Agreed. Maybe a picture of a gun?”

“That could be cool.” I started searching online. “What do you think? Eight by ten?”

“Nothing bigger.” I turned the computer to face him. “What do you think of that?”

He winced, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Munitions that spell out your name? That’s kind of cheesy. What if you did something artistic—like…a shelf with a gun on it?”

“Just a shelf.”

“Right. And then you stick a gun up there. Simple. You don’t even need to buy a picture.”

That made sense. “Why bother, right? I could get a slab of wood and nail it to the wall.”

“Exactly. And you have a ton of weapons. Hell, we have a whole silo filled with them. Take one, slap it up there, and boom! You have a decoration.”

“And it would come in handy if there was ever a home invasion.”

“Exactly.”

Yeah, I could do that. Hell, I could have a whole wall of guns if I wanted.

Not that it would be safe if any kids came over.

Not that I planned on having any kids come into my home, but semen was spreading around here like a disease.

Everyone was getting knocked up, and it wouldn’t be long before kids were invading my territory.

“So, now that we solved your problem, you want to help me with mine?”

“Yeah, go online and buy a fucking cane.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You know, I showed up when you needed help.”

FNG was so fucking dramatic. “Yeah, you really solved all my problems. What would I do without you?”

“Asshole,” he muttered as he stormed out of the house.

I chuckled to myself as I picked up my ringing phone. “Hey, Mom.”

“Patti, how are you?”

“Fine.” I really fucking hated when she called me Patti, but she’d done it all my life. I wasn’t likely to change it anytime soon.

“Are you eating enough? The last picture you sent me, you looked awfully thin.”

“The last picture I sent you was a year ago.”

I snatched my beer and headed into the living room to take a seat while I put on the game.

“I really think I should come for a visit. You know, I was talking to my friend Lucy the other day. You remember Lucy. She’s the one with the purple hair? Remember, she forgets to take the curlers out?”

“Yeah, I remember her,” I sighed, wondering how long this conversation was going to take.

“Well, her granddaughter is going to be going to Kansas in a month, and I was thinking?—”

“Nope. Don’t even go there, Mom. I’m not taking Lucy’s granddaughter out.”

She gasped into the phone, and I knew she had that look of shock on her face that I knew all too well from my childhood. “I would never suggest something like that. I just thought maybe you could show her around.”

“Around Kansas? Was she coming anywhere in particular, or were you just going to fly her in and hope I picked her up?”

“Patti, you know I only want the best for you.”

“I’m not interested in marriage, Mom.”

“You always say that, but you don’t know what it could be like. You might really like having a woman around to cook your meals while you’re out in the fields.”

My mother still thought I had moved to Kansas to be some kind of cowboy or farmer like in the movies. She refused to believe that I got out of the military and continued playing with guns, as she put it.

“I’m not out in the fields, and I don’t need anyone to cook my meals.”

“Patti, when your father?—”

I heard the sharp intake of breath and fucking knew she was on the verge of tears.

Fuck, I hated when she cried. Sighing, I leaned back in the chair and prayed she didn’t fall into one of her depressions.

She had been doing so well, but ever since my father died, just bringing up things like how she used to cook for him made her go all teary-eyed.

“When your father came in from a long day of work, I always had dinner on the table for him. I want that for you. I want you to have someone who lives to be there for you.”

I cringed. That was the last thing I wanted. Mom and I were very different. If I ever dated a woman and really liked her, I wanted more than a servant or a maid.

“Mom, it won’t work. I’ll never have what you and Dad had.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not like the two of you. I love my job, and I’m not looking for a woman to complete me.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’m happy with the way my life is.”

“You’re going to die alone, and then what will I do?”

“You’ll learn to live your life for yourself. Face it, Mom. I’m going to be a bachelor for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll never believe that.”

“Then you’re going to be very disappointed when you don’t have any grandchildren.”

I knew that was hitting below the belt, but she had to get this fantasy out of her head.

I never saw myself as a husband or a father.

In fact, the idea of having kids wasn’t scary.

I just didn’t want them. I liked not being responsible to anyone but myself.

I didn’t want to come home and think about what my wife wanted or if my kids were happy.

I enjoyed life, and that’s the way I intended for it to stay.

“Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”

That was the only thing I could promise her, so I did it. Because in the end, I loved my mom and I wanted her to be happy, even if I gave her that with false hope.