Failure

Raylan had never seen Nate as happy as he was standing next to the brightly painted mummy. He continued to scroll through his phone and look at his son standing next to several of the bands' members. Apparently a meet and greet after the show was somewhat customary and it took Nate no time to make his way to the gathering. He waited patiently for his turn and handed his dad his cell phone to capture the moment. On the way home Nate emailed them all to Raylan and asked if he could get them processed at the drugstore as soon as possible. Now, two months later he realized that he failed to even get that processed started.

He had been relegated to dealing with walk-in's and taking orders from Rachel as Art seemingly refused to share any airspace with him. He knew the man was upset with him, but he had never held onto his anger this long before. He wished that he could smooth over the emotions by taking him to a concert as it had seemed to work for his son, who had just walked into the office much to Raylan's surprise. He waved to his son but saw an opening with Art he couldn't refuse.

"What's going on?" Nate asked Tim.

"Trouble in paradise," he the Marshal drawled.

"Doesn't that always seem to be the case?"

"Pretty much," Tim agreed.

With his conversation over a disgusted Raylan came over to where Nate was standing, "What are you doing here?"

"I took the bus to the drug store down the street to pick up my photos from the concert, the ones that you failed to get done."

"Oh sorry about that. How did you order them anyway?"

Nate rolled his eyes. "You download them into the computer and then upload them to the drugstore site, then choose the ones you want and edit them and order the number and size you want—easy," Nate explained.

"Yeah, easy," Tim echoed.

"Sorry I didn't get that done, I've had a lot on my mind."

"You always have a lot on your mind. You need to learn how to multi-task. Don't worry I used that twenty on your dresser to pay for them. They're going to be in Louisville later on, you can continue to screw up so that I can go to another concert."

"Well, thanks for the leeway."

"At least I can gain something out of it now," Nate said sitting down at his father's desk.

"Did you have a good time?" Tim asked.

"Hell yeah, it was the best." Nate said as he began to pull out his pictures.

Tim sidled up next to the boy and listened to Nate describe each moment. "It looks like you did have a great time. I saw them last year and I know that they put on one hell of a show."

"You did?" Nate asked. "Well maybe if my dad doesn't take me you can?"

Tim looked over at Raylan unsure of what to say. "Well, he can be the back-up if I fail you like I seem to fail everybody else," Raylan huffed.

Nate, not at all troubled by his father's outburst smiled and nodded at Tim. "Great, I'll text you possible dates on their tour schedule. I'm thinking anything within a hundred miles should work. Unfortunately I can only go to all ages shows and they can be harder to find."

"Well you keep an eye out and let me know," Tim said as he eyeballed Raylan.

"Dad I'm going to show these to Art okay?" Nate said already heading over towards Art's office.

"Like it matters what I say," Raylan said quietly.

"It does," Tim assured. "He's growing up, he's nearly twelve."

"And he's tired of waiting for me to figure out how to be a father. I get it, I even understand it, but I hate it. Why am I so bad at this?"

"You do have a full plate and sometimes you can't see anything beyond it. I have no parenting advice for you but I will be happy to step in, if and when I'm needed."

"I think he prefers that," Raylan sighed as he watched his son show off the pictures to yet another person, before he had even bothered to show his own father.

"So when do I get to see those?" Raylan asked as they drove home that night.

"When you're not driving," Nate said as he thumbed through them once again. "We should have gotten one with you in it."

"Really? With me in the picture?"

"Yeah, you with one of the mummies or in front of the stage. I have a lot good ones of them on stage."

"Any reason you didn't show me those back at the office?"

"Cause I was showing Tim and Art first."

"Why was that?"

"Because I can show you at home," Nate replied.

"I guess that makes sense."

"What is Art mad at you about and are we going to Florida to see Winona and Meghan?"

"Well what is between Art and me is between Art and me and I took a couple of weeks off, but you have school so I'm not sure we'll make it to Florida as I don't have much in the vacation fund."

"What are you afraid of?" Nate asked as he tucked the pictures back into the envelope.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you walk up to bad guys with guns and deal with the worst that humanity has to offer but relationships scare the hell out of you."

Raylan was floored by his son's statement. He opened his mouth to say something but had no idea what to say. His eleven year old son had nailed it, hit the bull's-eye, stated it matter-of-factly and was exactly right; relationships did scare him, but he had no idea why. Was he bad at them because they scared him or was it just beyond his skill set and no amount of effort seemed to change that fact? Was it because he did walk up to bad guys with guns and therefore deep down had no desire to become attached to anyone? He had failed in his relationship with Nadine all those years ago and with Winona, not once but twice. He readily admitted he was a terrible father to not only his son, but also with his brand new daughter. It wasn't that he didn't care for them, he'd take a bullet for any one of them without a second thought, but he was seemingly incapable of playing the typical role most men had little trouble with.

Raylan realized that they were nearly home; he had no memory of the last few blocks. Nate had remained quiet most likely aware that he had rendered his dad speechless. Once the car stopped he got out and trudged up to the door, his pictures in hand and carefully unlocked the door and without looking back entered the house. Nate hung his coat up and then went over and sat down at the table. He had questioned the wisdom of what he had just told his father but in the end he guessed it was probably for the best.

Raylan was still standing next to the car trying to absorb the reality that had just been laid before him. He knew without a doubt that his young son had much more emotional intelligence than he did and he was grateful that he hadn't passed on those particularly lackluster genes.

Now Raylan was at a familiar crossroads of what he wanted to do and what he knew he should do. He knew that he should go inside and talk to Nate about what had been said in the car and then perhaps segue into the pictures and the whole concert experience. The fact that his son had shown no surprise or disappointment in Tim possibly subbing for him in the future had quietly invaded his heart.

But what Raylan wanted to do and apparently what Nate expected him to do, by walking in the house alone and not looking back, was to take off to the nearest bar and soul search with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Now it was his decision to make and both choices he was sure would leave him with some sort of regret.

Nate had spread out the pictures on the table and was reminding Raylan of what was happening in each one. The last few days had flown by and Raylan was disappointed with the results. He had managed to get his hands on the money that would get them to Florida and stay in comfort, but he just as easily lost it or rather, gave it away. He thought perhaps it was a sign that Meghan was indeed better off without his influence and the disappointment that it always seemed to bring.

He was now trying to recall the name of the mummy that Nate had already told him at least three times. "You're with—'' Raylan struggled, trying to conjure up the name, "something to do with coffee," he finally said with a grimace.

Nate sighed. "Well, you're getting there, that's Java, with a long A. He's the easy one, because he is the spokesman, the only one that talks."

"I'll have to study more."

"Pretend they're wanted posters," Nate suggested.

"Great idea, I'll do that. Can you explain their lyrics to me? I've never heard any of their stuff on the radio and I'm not quite sure what their style is." Nate shuffled the pictures around and stayed quiet. "Now would be a good time," Raylan hinted.

Nate took his time stacking the pictures back up. "They are kind of rock/funk/R & B. Different from anybody else and they do all their own music, no cover tunes."

"They had a few props that I found interesting."

"Yeah, they keep it lively. Some of the lyrics have some double entendres and innuendos and that's what makes them so awesome. I mean it's funny, not dirty or explicit, just hilarious."

"Hmm, I see, and that's why you like them?"

"I like them because they're cool, they're different and they're not afraid to be who they are. Love them or hate them they're going to do what they want. That's why they don't have a label; they work for themselves, nobody telling them what to do."

"That doesn't sound all that bad to me."

"It shouldn't, that pretty much describes you."

"Well, I do have to answer to my superiors."

"Not sure how well you do that as it would seem that Art has finally had his fill of you and your solo activities."

"He told you that?" Raylan asked.

"Of course not, the man's a professional, he would never do that. But it doesn't take a genius to see the rift between you. Besides I know you and how you operate."

"You do, do you?"

"More than you want."

"You are probably right son," Raylan sighed. "I'm sorry we couldn't go to Florida."

"It's okay, you're right, I have school, but it would have been nice to see Winona and Meghan. I mean she'll forget all about me and the fact that she has a big brother."

"Nah, Winona will remind her about us."

"Ya think? Like Mom did for me when we left here?"

"Yeah, like Mom did for you," Raylan said as he watched Nate stack up his photos. "If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?" Nate shrugged his shoulders but answered he would. "The times I missed our visitation because something came up, what did you think of me?"

Nate pulled out a chair and sat down gently. "At first—well I knew you had an important job and since the bad guys don't often adhere to a schedule, sometimes there would be conflicts."

Raylan shook his head, reminded of just how smart his son was. "But then—you said that was what you thought at first, what did you think later?"

"That you just had something better to do. That you were having too much fun to stop and it was easier to give me an excuse that whoever you were with."

"Well shit."

"I simply learned not to count on you."

"I'm sorry son." Raylan said looking at the wall.

"It's just who you are and what you do." Nate said he stood up and gathered his pictures he then turned and headed off to his room leaving behind a much deflated Raylan.