decided to start my own company. About three years ago, I started my own construction company with a few of my buddies from high school. Landon, Griffin, and Bishop have been longtime friends for years. Each of us brings something different to the company table. Griffin is our contracts guy, Landon is our numbers guy, Bishop and I are all architecture and brawn, and together, we’re an effortless team that always gets the job done.
We’ve been the main construction company in the county for the past three years, a year after opening. The good news about our work spread like wildfire, and the jobs started coming in left and right. For the most part, we keep our clientele local to avoid travel costs, but the company has been doing so well that Griffin suggested we expand after he received numerous inquiries about bigger contracts.
Now, we keep the small stuff local, and we travel for the bigger contracts with our team of guys. It’s a dream job, one I never thought I’d be able to accomplish. For a long time, I thought my father would be upset about me not working with him at the garage, but he understood better than anyone how important doing something meaningful with my life was.
A smile takes over Gavin’s face, and he pulls me into a hug, slapping me heartily on the back.
“Endymion, son, how are you? Thank you again for dinner and beers the other night. I appreciate it.”
I wave him off, hating how fragile the man felt in my arms just now. I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but at some point, Gavin became a big part of my life. I care about the man like he’s family. Hell, my parents love him, too. They invite him over for Sunday dinners and family gatherings, and most of the time, he shows up. Lately, though, everyone in town has been whispering about his health, and there’s no hiding it now. I can clearly see Gavin truly is sick.
It first started off as little favors. I don’t know what happened, and it’s not something he’s ever up to talking about, but one day, I remember Gavin having it all—a beautiful family, a beautiful wife and daughter—and then the next, he didn’t have any of that. I knew his daughter, Selene, went off to college, but gossip started around town when his wife, Cece, just up and left and never came back.
It was tough to watch him fend for himself. He looked sad and lonely, and when the company was first starting out, he was one of our first projects and customers. I’ll always be grateful to him.
After that, I went out of my way to make sure he had dinner or even just a place he could come hang out when he was tired of staying inside. Once we’d both get off work, I’d come over with a six-pack of beers, and we’d sit there on his newly refurbished porch and shoot the shit. We talked about trivial things, always steering clear of ourselves, but after growing more comfortable with one another, we delved deeper.
I learned he and his wife, Cece, didn’t have the best marriage, and when she left, he always knew it was for the best, even though he regretted not fighting for her. Selene, who had a full ride to Caltech in Pasadena, had gotten pregnant and had to drop out in favor of community college. I could see the disappointment, but when he talked about his grandchild, I could also tell just how smitten he was with her, too.
The times he’d get back from visiting his family in Pasadena were always the hardest to witness because even though he was happy, a lingering loneliness always clung to him, because he was here, and they were there. It’s been especially hard to watch the decline in his health. He tried to hide it at first and pass it off as not feeling well or a new diet, but after some time, I started putting two and two together. When he was frequently missing Sunday dinners with my family, my dad told me about some whispers he’d heard around town regarding Mr. Drake. It was the dreaded “C” word.
After one night of drinking together on his porch, he’d stumbled while getting inside and busted his chin. I drove him to the ER where he had to have stitches, and he finally came clean about the cancer. I could see the fear in