September 12, 2010

I woke up, and I thought of her. How I wish she was here. How she wasn't here. How I needed her, and she was not here. How could she just not be here?

My room was about the same as I'd left it. A guitar that I never really played propped up against my dresser. Posters of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Falcons covering the walls. It was obvious my mom had kept up on the dusting, but she hadn't moved anything around. Hadn't added anything or took anything away.

A knock at my door disturbed my thoughts.

"You awake?" it was my mom's voice.

"Yeah," I grumbled.

"Your pancakes are gettin' cold," she said.

That's right. It was Sunday. My mom had made it a point, for whatever reason, to make pancakes every Sunday morning. They weren't any good. I minded them less than Dad or Carl. A pancake was a pancake, but I'll say that it was a good thing she didn't make them more than once a week.

"I'm gettin' up, just give me a moment," I threw my comforter off of me.

"Listen, Jack, I know you always hated goin', but it would mean a lot to Carl right now if you'd come along to church with us."

The thought of it sent a discomfort down my esophagus. I didn't have anything against God or Christians of any kind, it was just that the church-like atmosphere made me uncomfortable. It was fake and culty. None of those people had a thought for themselves. They just went along believing what other people told them to.

"I-" my dad was just shot. He was Carl's dad too. I'd ought to just go with them. "I'll go."

"Good," my mom smiled, a genuine smile.

I'd always given her hell when she tried to make me go as a kid. My dad never went. She'd tell them it was because he was too busy with work, and they'd respect that because they knew he was an asset to the county. He kept everyone safe, so that there was a church to go to.

She shut the door as she left, and I took this opportunity to wake up, going over to my dresser. I opened it, seeing all my old clothes that I hadn't seen since before I left for college.

I'd forgotten about my Atlanta Falcons jersey. It was Joey Harrington, #13. I pulled that over my head before getting fully dressed and heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

By the time I got out to the dining room, Carl and my mom were sitting at the table in their Sunday best.

"Don't tell me you're thinkin' of wearin' that to church," she said.

"Didn't want to get syrup on any of my button ups," I shrugged.

"Right," she replied. "Well, hurry up. Shane's about to be here."

"Shane's going?" I asked as I took a seat.

Mom had done me the courtesy of pouring me a glass of orange juice, which I was enthusiastic to drink.

She pushed the syrup and set the butter over by me.

"Well, the Ford is actin' up again, so he said he'd take us."

"So, he's just providin' the ride? You made it sound like he was going to go on in with us and sit in a service."

"He's going," Carl spoke up. "He said he would."

"Alright then," I said, shoveling a fork-full of lumpy pancakes into my mouth.

Shane didn't have too much aversion to going to church. He wasn't much of a believer, but the way he was raised seemed to have an effect on him. He knew his parents wouldn't approve of all his womanizing and other sins, so he stayed away out of guilt. My dad on the other hand had much more active resentment towards Christianity.

By the time Shane arrived, I'd changed into a simple white button down and some of my old dress shoes. Shane showed up in a blazer, which I opted not to make fun of him for- or Carl for that matter in his sweater vest my mom had picked out for him. They both looked ridiculous, but Church was a ridiculous thing, so what could I really say.

What was even more ridiculous, I realized, was the wind blowing through Carl's and my hair, riding in the back of Shane's wrangler on the way to church, dressed so formally.

We arrived with only a few minutes to go- and we were going to the day's later service. I wasn't sure if this was mine or Shane's fault, but I was sure Carl and my mom would have gone to the first service if they could.

When I got to the church, I'd found that the community had heard about what happened to my father by all the looks they were giving us. They weren't bad looks, but they made me uncomfortable nonetheless. Looks of pity and sympathy as we walked to our chairs. Shane sat on the aisle, my mom next to him, Carl next to her, and me on the other end next to Fred Drake and his wife, Cindy. They were an older couple in our neighborhood. Their youngest son was in my grade, and I'd played on the same football team as him. Normally, Carl would still be going to Sunday school, but I assumed that he'd wanted to stay with us given the circumstances.

This wasn't a southern baptist church. It was more nondenominational. My mother's attempts to compromise between the wants of her husband and the wills of her parents. The pastor was a bit of an unusual character. Mark O'Hara was his name, and he wore leather jackets to church. He was a real southern kind of guy- northern Georgia drawl. He wasn't from King County, but somewhere more up there towards Blue Ridge. He was a hunter, a father, and a failed Christian rock musician. I'd bet he didn't make it because he wasn't quite handsome enough. But for what he lacked in looks, he made up for in Charisma.

"We'd like to take a moment," he said, his voice booming over the crowd with no mic, "to thank Officer Walsh for being here today."

The crowd clapped, and Shane smiled humbly.

"We know he's often too busy to join us, but that's okay because he's out there doin' one of the most important jobs in America. Keepin' all of us safe. Keepin' this county safe. But we couldn't thank Officer Walsh without thankin' Officer Grimes. As we all have heard the unfortunate news, Officer Grimes couldn't be with us today. Unfortunately, he was shot while protectin' our community. But the good lord spared his life! We trust in Jesus that he will have a safe recovery and will return to his family in no time at all."

My mom began to sniffle, so Shane put a hand of comfort upon her shoulder.

"And we couldn't not thank his wife, Lori either," Pastor Mark continued. "For bein' so strong, and takin' care of her two boys on her own during this time. Lori Grimes has always been a model of a good mother, a good wife, and a good role model as we all well know in this community."

The crowd engaged in another round of applause for my mom.

Pastor Mark went on to read some from Jeremiah and to talk about the importance of hope and connection, and blah blah blah.

When the service finally came to a close, I was more than eager to get out of there before everyone came up and offered their condolences and prayers. It wasn't so much that I didn't appreciate the gesture, but more that I didn't feel a need for all of the attention.

I shuffled to my feet as soon as everyone else started to, my little brother sitting on the chair next to me, blocking my exit.

"Carl!" I whispered.

He looked up at me, and I could see the tears in his eyes.

I put a hand of comfort in his hair, messing it up in a way my mom should have scolded me for doing in church. I changed my mind about what I was going to say next.

"Want to get out of here?" I asked him.

He nodded and wiped a tear away, standing up and looking at our mom for approval.

He was taller than when I had last seen him, but still so much shorter than me, more than a foot if I had to guess.

"Carl and I are going to walk home," I said to her.

She looked to be considering it for a moment before nodding her head in agreement, reaching into her purse and handing me the key ring to the house.

Carl and I squeezed by her and Shane and the approaching churchgoers coming to offer their condolences until we were out of the church.

It wasn't a far walk back, luckily. A long walk in the heat of Georgia in September wasn't ideal.

"Jack?" Carl was the first to speak as we started down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course," I nodded.

"No one else is coming. Grandma and grandpa. Uncle Jeff."

"Uncle Jeff is always busy," I said.

Our uncle Jeff lived back in Kentucky, working construction. He was our dad's younger brother by two years, and he had about the same work ethic as him.

"What about grandma and grandpa?"

I sighed. I didn't know why they weren't here, but I was sure they had a million excuses.

"They know he's gonna be okay. He's gonna come out of this."

"Yeah," Carl agreed, and wiped away what seemed to be his last tear for now. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Go for it."

"Where have you been?"

"College, you know that."

"Mom said you dropped out."

"I did."

"Why?"

Questions I didn't want to answer. It would be pathetic to tell him that I did because of a girl. Because I was sad. But that was the truth.

"It just wasn't for me," I shrugged.

"Was it hard?"

"Yeah. It was hard."

"So what are you gonna do now?" he asked.

I could see he was sweating under that ridiculous church sweater vest. What a thing to make him wear.

"I dunno."

"You got to do something. You're a grown-up now."

"I'll figure it out," I said, then kneeled down to his height. "Look, that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that I'm here, and I'll be here at least until Dad is okay again."

He nodded at that.

"Now, take off that stupid vest before you die of heat exhaustion."

He laughed and pulled it over his head.

"Why don't you just stay here?" he said.

"Carl-"

"Until you figure it out. What you want to do. You have your room still, and I don't want you to be far away. It's bad enough that everyone else is back in Kentucky."

I had told him the truth. I didn't know what I was going to do with myself, and now that I was here, I felt a repulsion to going back to Virginia. Maybe I'd find my way to California, or Hawaii, or somewhere more exciting. But for now, I was here, and I'd be here until my dad was not only out of the coma, but on his own two feet again. Back to work. Though I was hoping he would consider a different line.

"We'll see, I'm not makin' any promises."

His head fell with that. I felt bad, but I didn't want to promise something I wasn't sure if I'd keep.

King County was a small place really. It was large in size, but most of the town and suburbs were located in the same 10 or less square miles. The outskirts were filled with farms and granges. We'd lived in the suburbs, so it was only about fifteen minutes from the church.

We got back to see only my parents's Ford Escape parked in the driveway, so I assumed that Shane and my mom were still at church, unless he'd dropped her off and left right away.

"If mom's not here, can we play one of your games?" Carl had assessed the situation similarly.

"Which one?"

He pretended to think about his answer, but I knew what he was going to say.

"Halo 3?"

He offered a shit-eating grin that I couldn't help but smile at.

My parents had been pretty sheltered with Carl, adhering to the suggested age on video games when picking and choosing which ones Carl could play. I'd imagined his options opened a bit when he turned twelve, but that still left them pretty slim. Carl and I would sometimes play some of my M rated games when our parents weren't home.

"That sounds good to me," I agreed, and Carl ran up the steps to the front door.

The truth was, I was in no mood to sit around and play video games, but if it made Carl happy, then I would do it. I did sort of miss our moments playing together, even if he was annoying and shit at my video games. I guess it wasn't his fault that he didn't get any practice.

"I have the keys!" I reminded him.

He stopped at the front door and turned to face me, "hurry up then!"

I raised my middle finger and flipped him off, then lifted my leg to take a step as slow as I could.

"Asshole!" he shouted.

"You better hope mom's not in there to hear you talking like that, fucker."

He laughed at that, and peered through the windows.

"I don't see her!"

"Maybe she's right behind the door waiting to smack you as soon as I open it."

"You have the keys."

"She doesn't have a spare?" I asked.

He shrugged.

I placated him and picked up the pace up to the front door.

"Let me change out of these ridiculous clothes while you set the xbox up," I said as I unlocked the door.

"Well, hurry up!"

"Don't tell me what to do."

"You don't tell me what to do!" he called as he ran towards his room.

I ran after him and shoved him a bit, not enough to hurt him, but enough to remind him who the big brother was.

"I'm older, so I'm in charge, boy."

He ran into his room and slammed the door, so I couldn't chase him anymore.

I shook my head at him, and couldn't help but smile a bit. It had been a long time since I'd seen him. He was still a little prepubescent video game and comic book nerd. But it was good to see that some things never changed.

I went into my room and stripped all of my clothes off of me, getting back into my jersey and some basketball shorts before returning to Carl's room, the video game case in my hand.

I gave him a face when I saw that he was still in his church clothes, save the sweater vest, but didn't tease him about it. If he got hot, that was his own issue.

I put the game in and started setting it up.

"Do you play any of the new games?" Carl asked.

"I left the xbox with you, remember?" I gestured towards the game console.

"My friends have some new M rated games. Like Borderlands. The new Halo comes out in a few days. Jacob's dad is going to get it for him, and he's going to let me come over and play it."

"All your friends get to play M rated games except for you?"

He nodded sullenly.

"I'll talk to Mom about letting you have my old games."

His face lit up at that.

"She's going to say no."

"I'm persuasive," I shrugged.

We heard the door swing open and Mom call out for us. Carl immediately shot forward and turned off the xbox.

"Be careful!" I scolded him.

"I didn't want to get in trouble," he explained himself.

I rolled my eyes at how much of a square he wanted everyone to think he is before calling back for my mom.

"We're here!" I said.

I stood up and walked out to the kitchen where Mom was hanging up her purse. Shane was already manspreading on the couch flicking through the channels, his blazer now layed on the couch next to him.

"How was the walk?" Mom asked when she saw me enter the kitchen.

"Hot. How was getting bombarded by all the church people?"

"Fred was sad you didn't stop to chat."

"He'll live," I wandered over to the fridge and took out a navel orange.

"Thanks for leaving me to that by myself."

"You had Shane with you."

"Yeah, he got me out of there," she laughed as she pulled out some ingredients from the fridge for what looked like sandwiches.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to go."

It occurred to me then. My mom had continued going to church for the sake of pleasing her parents and in-laws. She didn't make it every Sunday, but she did her best. Maybe she thought it would change Grandma and Grandpa's minds about coming out here to see Dad.

"Anyway," I spoke again when she didn't say anything. "You know Carl's almost a teenager."

"Don't remind me," she remarked.

"He told me his friends pick on him about video games," I lied.

She put a hand on her hip, "what about video games?"

"You don't let him play certain ones."

"Well, those certain video games are rated for seventeen and up. He's twelve."

"So are all his friends," I argued. "He feels left out. Don't do that to him."

"Don't make me the bad guy."

"What are you afraid is going to happen if he plays these games?"

"They're all about war and guns and fighting, right?"

"Most of them," I confirmed.

"I don't want him exposed to that."

"Dad was shot. He's already exposed to that."

"I know. What I mean, Jack," she lowered her voice. "I don't want him thinkin' that there's some kind of glory or honor in all of that. I don't want him to end up like your dad."

I nodded. It was a harsh thing to say, but my mother had always been unhappy with my dad's choice in career and the danger it imposed. She accepted it, but she didn't like it.

"Well, you weren't so strict with me growing up, and I didn't end up like him," I rebutted.

She sat in her thoughts for a minute. "Fine. Nothing with nudity though. He doesn't play any video games that you haven't already played."

I turned around to see that Carl had watched this entire conversation unfold, his face lighting up at my mom's change of heart. I had only hoped he didn't hear what was said about Dad.

"Go in my room and take the whole stack," I told him, and he ran off.

"If your dad says differently when he wakes up, then this is your fault," she said, pointing at me with the knife she was using to cut tomatoes.

"Why aren't you in there playin' games with your brother?" Mom asked as she brought a plate of BLTs out to where Shane and I were sitting on the couch.

Shane had the awful habit of switching the channel every time a commercial came on. I couldn't stand it, but he had done a lot for my mom, Carl, and even me these last few days. Hell, for our whole lives, so I didn't say anything.

"Well, I couldn't leave Shane lonely," I joked.

He flicked the channel over to FOX 5 Atlanta, where the reporter sat talking, her face serious, with the hazard symbol behind her.

"...Attacks have been happening internationally. These attacks seem to be happening randomly and from trusted neighbors and friends with no clear idea about why individuals are being targeted. Some officials have suggested that this may be in connection to a rabies-like disease, though none of these statements have been confirmed. These attacks are sometimes reported to be cannibalistic in nature, but…"

"Bullshit," Shane said, flicking the channel. "Just more of them bath salts goin' around."

Shane had seen a lot, but I wasn't so sure about that being bath salts. The news was no stranger to reporting a bunch of bullshit and lies, but why would officials have not considered drugs and instead resulted to rabies?

"Sounds like a hoax," my mom said.