me to open the store tomorrow, then? It’s Saturday. I don’t have plans.” I did have plans, with some buddies, but I would cancel for him. My father asked me and I did. It was that simple.
But it’s never as simple as we think. It’s never as simple as we hope. I should have done more. I should have demanded he tell me what he was doing, who he was going to see. I should have screamed that he tell me everything, why he was so anxious, why there was that look in his eyes. That look that said he wasn’t sure what he was doing. I should have begged that he take me with him, let me tag along. Mom could open the store, I should have said. Or we could close the store for a day. Just let me go with you. Please, just take me with you. Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you make it right. Don’t do this on your own.
I should have said all of those things. And more.
Big Eddie smiled, but it looked forced. “That’d be great, Benji. I think it’s going to be slow tomorrow. Supposed to be a storm coming in, so you can take your school work with you and get some studying done. You’ve got finals coming up in a few weeks.”
I made a face as I muttered, “Don’t remind me. I don’t know how I’m going to pass this stupid algebra final. Who cares about x’s and y’s and what stands for what? The alphabet shouldn’t be in math.”
He laughed, and with that simple action, he seemed freer. Lighter, somehow. He moved from the doorway and came to where I sat at my desk. “Can I tell you a secret?” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
I grinned as I nodded, waiting for my line.
He didn’t disappoint. “Cross your heart?”
“Hope to die.”
“Stick a thousand needles in your eye,” he finished.
I waited.
He leaned closer and whispered, “Nobody uses algebra in the real world. Learn it, pass it, then forget it.”
I laughed. “Unless I want to be a nuclear scientist,” I said. “Or a mathematician.”
He rolled his eyes. “You aren’t gonna be no damn mathematician. Green men have no need for math. We’re hands-on. We get dirty.”
“Unless you’re balancing the books for the store. Or building a house.”
He waved his hand in an easy dismissal. “Just the basics,” he said. “That’s why we have an accountant. And a contractor to help with the logistics.”
“Sure, Dad.” I turned back to the book. He lifted his hand from my shoulder and ruffled my hair. I didn’t know it then, but that touch, those fingers in my hair, would be the last time I would feel my father alive. I would see him again, but he’d be cold under my hand, life long since departed.
Had I known then what I know now, I would have clung to him. I would have looked him in the eyes to see that spark of mischief, that undying intelligence that belied his gruff exterior. If I’d known the inevitable, I would have said everything I felt in my heart and soul. I would have told him thank you for being my father. I would have said that if I’m ever going to be a good man, it’s going to be because of the way he’d raised me. I would have said that building Little House together and fixing up that old Ford until it was so cherry were the best times of my life. I would have said that I didn’t think I’d be able to go on without him.
I would have told him I loved him.
But I didn’t. I didn’t because I didn’t know. I didn’t even say good night. Or good-bye.
My father’s last words to me were, “I’ll see you when I get back, okay? Don’t study too hard. Live a little, Benji.”
I nodded, not looking up. I’ll live a little once I pass my sophomore year, I told myself.
He left my room.
Twenty hours later, my mother would arrive at the gas station in the pouring rain to tell me he was gone.
Rosie and her shotgun aren’t the only ones that show. After she arrives, more
townsfolk start pouring into the store, word of the attempted robbery spreading quickly. Their faces are filled with concern, which quickly turns to anger that such a thing could happen in Roseland. This is such a safe place, they say. Things like that don’t happen here. What the