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Dax nods, staring at it. “Brilliant.”
And sometimes that’s all it takes.
One. Encouraging. Word.
SEVEN
Ben
Isee his name lighting up the screen and answer, my voice depressed sounding, even to me. “Hey Dad.”
"What are you and Jonny doing for dinner?"
My eyes graze the silent house, TV off. "Shelby has him at her mother’s house tonight."
"So you were planning on eating alone?"
Raking a hand through my hair, I stop at the base of my skull, clasp it, and shrug. "Yeah, but that's OK. I know you guys have a new group in today." My hand drops and I head for the kitchen.
Dad stops me with, “Why don't you join us for dinner?"
It's not the first time I've eaten amongst the retreat guests but never, since I’ve been an adult, do I join them on the first night. Everyone is getting acclimated. It's more about them bonding with each other. But did Mom and Dad ever say that’s how it’s supposed to be, to me? Or was I just assuming. Truth is, it's been so many years since they would've invited me or I would've said yes — either one. And I don't remember which happened last. I mostly ended up eating a meal at Sunflower when I was working on his ranch, and then it just seemed like the easy thing to do. But not the first night dinner. That I know.
"Have to admit, the house does feel a little empty. Yeah, I'll come over. It’s 6:30 dinner right?”
“Right.”
“Just let me clean up.“
“See you soon.”
“Okay, and Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re always welcome here.”
We hang up and I walk to the bathroom, unbuttoning and peeling off the dirty jeans and plaid shirt I wore today weeding my crops. White tank top comes off last, boots and socks already abandoned by the front door when I ended my work. I run the water so hot it takes seconds for the mirror to steam, mist clinging to my naked body, to the tile, transforming the clear floor-to-ceiling shower door to opaque. Stepping into the hot blast, I wince. Add a little cold so it's bearable. Just under scalding. I like my showers hot. Grabbing an ivory bar I soap up with my mind dulled by the thought that it's been a long time since I've had sex. Feels like something died inside of me, my sexual urges gone. Being married to a woman I didn't respect, who offered so little to the marriage and took away so much, numbed me. Everything that's important — my body, mind and yeah, I guess heart, too. Maybe I'll just live here alone on my farm, raising my son with my ex-wife sharing half custody, and stay celibate until he moves out and gets married. Or maybe just forever.
I frown because, man, what a shitty thought.
Massaging soap into sore muscles, my thighs, biceps, and back of my calves right above my Achilles tendons, receive more attention than usual because I am stuck in this spinning vortex of wondering if I'm ever going to feel like the powerful man I used to be. From the looks of me, I know I come off as the opposite of how I feel. I'm six-foot-six, built of muscle. Looks aren't everything. A person can look like they’ve got it all together but on the inside…
And it’s up to me to fix it.
Heal.
Grow.
I haven’t smiled since hanging out with Ethan.
Walking naked, I leave the bathroom, enter the hallway and head for our bedroom. My bedroom. My shoulders lift at the correction, spine strengthening. Her side of the closet is empty now, just hangers reminding me of her existence, and absence. There isn't anything I wouldn't give to go back in time and end it sooner.
Regret is a beast.
One not worth my time.
