It's a beautiful day

The blue in the sky, the life in the rain

All you see, and all you breathe

I feel all the pain, I fear the change

I know I can't stay, and I wanna go home

It's just too far away, I'll never make it alone...

I hit Chicago in the dead of night, so the traffic on the interstate isn't bad. Besides a short stop for gas, I've driven straight through from Detroit.

I could only stand it for a few days before I bailed. I thought maybe this time I could settle down for a while, get a job, get to know Jerry's kids. I couldn't. The gnawing sensation in my chest cavity that's plagued me since Jack's death only added to my usual sense of restlessness. Angel and Sofi went out for the night. They've done that a lot, since Sweet died. I saw them off, went upstairs, took a shower, brushed my teeth, packed my shit, got in the car, drove away.

I pulled a 'Bobby.' No words of warning, no note. I've done it a million times before, but I know this is the last straw for all of us. I'm not coming home this time. I don't even know where I'm going.

I found a cassette tape of Jack's under the seat when I dropped my keys. I figured it must've fallen out of his bag when I drove him and his stuff to the house after mom's funeral. I popped it in about thirty miles from the Michigan boarder. I expected a screaming punk band; it stunned me to hear his soft voice singing the lyrics to some rock ballad instead.

Men aren't supposed to cry, but it seems like I've done a lot of it lately. Tears run freely down my face while I listen to the soft tones of my baby brother's music and roll past the Windy City.

Mom made me go to church a lot when I was a kid. All of us went together on Sundays—but whenever I got into trouble I got dragged by the ear down to the confessional and I ended up attending at least one extra weekday mass before school. After enough time and prodding, I came to believe there must be a God, somewhere, watching over us. How else would a fuck up like me end up with a family that cared? Yes, I believe; but the hours pass by and I hardly notice, because at my core I'm ice cold with fear. I'm scared. I'm scared of dying, I'm scared there's nothing after life but darkness. I'm afraid Jackie's just gone, and that's it. Game over, son, no second chances.

I didn't even tell him I loved him before he went. I got too angry, too bent on revenge to stop and make sure he knew I gave a damn before he left the world behind. I'm not stupid enough to think I hurt any more than Jerry or Angel right now, but they've got company. I've got a nickel plated Colt, a smart mouth, and before now that's all I needed.

It's not enough anymore.

Twenty eight years. Twenty eight years and what do I have to show for it? A couple little brothers I can't protect anymore, and a couple headstones for my mother and Jack. That's what I've got. Oh yeah, and a badass reputation I no longer have the guts to uphold, because I know I'm due to run into someone I can't beat.

By the time the sun starts to come up I'm cruising past Iowa City, Iowa on I-80. Even though I'm more than ten hours south of where my trip started, it seems colder here. When I stop for gas and food the wind lashes me through my jacket.

I see a kid out of the corner of my eye just before I get back in my car. I whip my head around because for a second I think it's Jackie. Same lanky build, black sweatshirt instead of a coat, smoking a cig. It's just some teenager out taking his break, but I stand there and look at him, my tired brain struggling to process what I should do next.

"You got a question, Mister?" he finally calls in my direction, his brow furrowing.

I blink, looking around at the barren, snow covered land that goes off for miles in every direction, wondering what the fuck I should say. "Yeah," I finally call back. "You people got hockey in this state?"