PAST

I followed Buck along a narrow path which led away from the front entrance of the junkyard and the closed fencing that protected it. He didn’t ask questions or walked within five feet of me as we made the short trek. He hadn’t changed over the years, still sported broad muscular shoulders, colorful tattoos, and the rubber bands around his beard just the way I remembered. He watched, cautiously, as I struggled to walk on heavy legs toward wherever he was leading us. The energy crash made it hard to keep up. Just past the clearing was a beautiful cabin-like house that sat far away from the confines of the junkyard so you couldn’t see it if you were standing inside. I wasn’t afraid. The place was magical with huge glass windows and a wraparound porch with a rocking chair out front. I wondered for the first time if Buck had a family, a wife and children inside that perfect home. I took in as much as I could, standing just inside the doorway, when Buck noticed my perusal on his way toward the kitchen.

“You hungry, boy? Thirsty?” He pointed to the refrigerator, but I had no appetite.

“No. No, thank you, sir, I’m just tired,” I squeaked out my response. The events of the evening had finally caught up to me, and I barely had enough energy to keep my eyes open.

“None of that ‘sir’ shit. Just Buck. That’s it, that’s all.”

“I’m Maxie,” I answered quietly, still unsure if he remembered me.

“Know who you are, boy. Got a room for you to wash up and lie down. Tomorrow, we talk.”

Buck left the kitchen with a nod of his head, then showed me to a closed door I assumed was the spare bedroom I would use for the night. He turned on the light as he stepped inside. To my surprise, it wasn’t a spare room; it belonged to someone else, a young boy’s room. There was a twin bed with shelving that housed a baseball mitt, a bat, and a pair of cleats. The bedding had racing cars on it with a stuffed bear nestled on top of the pillow. The room had everything a little boy could want right down to the sports posters that lined the walls. I recognized a few of the players and concluded that Buck’s son must be a baseball fan. I didn’t want him to be angry with me for sleeping in his room without permission, so I told Buck this was some sort of mistake.

“No mistake, boy. Shower is that way.” He pointed to another closed door. “Clothes in the drawers to sleep in. We’ll talk in the morning.” He hadn’t explained about the room, so I asked.

“I don’t want your son to be mad at me for sleeping here. Is there somewhere else I can sleep?”

“He won’t be mad. He’s dead. Now get some rest.” He left without saying another word, closed the door behind him on his way out. I stood in the same spot in the middle of that room for at least a half an hour before I made my way into the bathroom. The shower curtain was bright blue with a large size baseball right in the middle of it. I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped upon seeing how much Buck’s son must have been loved, and I felt such sadness that he was no longer alive. My parents never gave a rat’s ass about me, certainly not enough to decorate my room with my favorite sports teams. I doubted they even knew if I liked sports. That man, that so-called biker scum, knew his son well, and it was clear that he loved him more than anything else in this world. I envied them; their connection was alive and well, evident by the upkeep to this room. No one loved me or cared if I lived or died. I was alone in this world with no family or friends, as dead as the little boy who’d once lived inside this wondrous home.

I never gave in to the sleep that arrived to take me under, too many thoughts running through my mind about what was to become of me. I couldn’t return home, not after what I had done, and I had no other family to think of. My only hope was asking, no, begging, Buck to allow me to stay here for a few days until I could decide my next move. I just had to keep running, so the police wouldn’t catch up to me and throw me in jail. The money I’d stolen to get away should be enough to convince a dangerous biker to help me with my plan. If not, I was screwed. I was sure by now my crime had been reported and it was just a matter of time before my parents called in a few favors and they were all out on the hunt for a knife-wielding fugitive. I felt so hopeless, so alone. There had to be a way out. The smell of bacon frying caused a grumble deep within my belly and I realized hours had passed since my arrival. I eased my way from the bedroom and peeked around the corner to see Buck standing in the kitchen by the stove preparing breakfast. He was shirtless, and in the light of day, his colorful tattoos were intimidating to the eye. Skulls, crossbones, and intricate writing adorned his entire back and arms, and he appeared much larger, if that was even possible.

“Park you little ass in that seat, boy. Time for breakfast.” Holy shit. How did he know I was standing there? I tiptoed my way across the kitchen floor and sat quietly at the table that already had plates, silverware, and a ketchup bottle placed on top.Buck served a heaping helping of scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes on each plate then took a seat directly across from me and dug in. My mouth started to water, and it didn’t take long for me to forget all of my meal etiquette and attack my helping with both hands. Everything tasted so good. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a home-cooked meal. Buck finished before I did and waited patiently until the last piece of bacon was gone from my plate.

“You had blood on your hands when you got here. Did you kill someone, boy?” Buck didn’t mince words, and the food I had consumed minutes prior was threatening to make a re-appearance.

“No…At least, I don’t think so. I think I just cut them…across the chest.” I used my greasy hand to indicate the position.

“Good. That’s good. Why’d you come here?” He didn’t sound angry, just curious.

“I…I had nowhere else to go, Buck. I remembered you from years ago, so I tracked you down by breaking into my father’s office files. I just need a place to stay for a few days until I can figure out what to do.”

“Hmm,” was his only reply as he contemplated my answer. He used his hand to stroke the hairs on his beard, deep in thought but not agreeing to allow me to stay.

“Tell me what happened. The whole story. Don’t bullshit me. The truth from beginning to the end. Don’t leave anything out.”

He wanted me to trust him with my life, and for some reason I did. If I told him my story and he still sent me away, at least someone else in this world would know it and remember me. Buck was a stranger, yet he’d already given me more than my parents ever did. He gave me his time. It was easier than I thought to replay the horrors of the past few years to him. He listened without interrupting, allowed me to take breaks when I needed, just to get past some of the more horrific points. I was grateful for his strong presence and understanding head nods, his encouragement without having to say a word.

I gave it all to him, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The kitchen was so thick with tension I could hardly breathe; yet I waited. Buck was silent, but I could see the muscles in his neck twitching and the hard line of his jaw as he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared one too many times and he was squeezing the shit out of the dinner napkin he was holding in his lap. He was angry with me and wanted me to leave; it was written all over his face. He thought I was a freak. I stood from my chair to do just that when the front door opened unexpectedly and a boy walked in. He took one look at Buck, then me, and just walked to the stove to grab himself some food. His clothes were too small and his shoes ratty enough to have been thrown away long before today. He was about my age with a crew cut. Who was this kid?

“Wash your hands before you dug into my food, boy!” Buck yelled from the table.

“Sorry, Buck, I was so hungry I just forgot.”

“Hmm,” was Buck’s only response, which I figured was his go-to when he was upset about something.

“Get over here.” The boy toddled over with his plate in his hand.

“This here is Range, helps out in the yard after school. This is Maxie. Gonna be staying here for a while.”

“Maxie? Like in maxi pad? No way, dude, I can’t call you that. Max sounds way cooler, like Mad Max.” Range laughed at his silly joke, and Buck swung his fist at his head and just missed it. Range stepped out of the way without spilling a drop of food and laughed harder. Buck growled in his direction but didn’t try to swing again. He wasn’t really trying anyway. The two talked about the work they had to finish after Range was back from school. Buck told him not to fuck around with getting his ass back here, and Range agreed. I wondered about their relationship, if perhaps they were related in some way. They didn’t look alike, and it was highly unlikely that Buck would allow a relative to walk around in too small clothes and broken-down shoes. Range looked at Buck with stars in his eyes, like he was some kind of superhero. He worshiped him. Whatever their relationship was, I wanted it, too. The perpetual scowl on Buck’s brow didn’t hide the fact that he loved this boy and would die before he let anything bad happen to him.

“Hurry up, boy, or you’ll be late for school. Don’t forget to bring that little asshole back with you.”

“Which asshole, Buck? I know so many.” Their banter was intoxicating, different from anything I’d ever experienced in my life, and I laughed easily listening to those two go at it.

“You know what asshole I’m talking about! Sebastian. Bring his little narrow ass back with you.”

“Sure thing, Buck, one asshole coming up. Catch you later, guys.” Range left for school, and I waited for Buck to tell me what I should do. He told me he had to close the junkyard today and was going to be gone for a few hours. He told me to wait at the house and not to open the door or answer the phone. That was fine by me. I didn’t want to see any more visitors today, especially the police, so I agreed. I was afraid for him to leave, but he told me everything was going to be okay as long as I did what I was told. I trusted him. I spent my day with a pen and a pad, writing his name over and over until my fingers ached. This time, I didn’t have to burn it.

Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck Buck.