CHAPTER 1 - CHANCE

Here’s a scenario for you: Let’s assume you want to remove all traces of masculinity from a man. How do you do it?

Pluck his ass down in the middle of a big city; domesticate him with a pretty little wife and a pretty little house with a white picket fence. Then just sit back and watch. Pretty soon he’ll think that getting a callus on his hand is as bad as leprosy. There you have it. Modern day pussification at its finest.

Fuck that.

This is exactly the opposite of the world I created for myself in the mountain town of Buffalo, Wyoming. Out there, in my cabin, I could see more sky than I ever knew existed. It was both exhilarating and desolate in a way that one can’t appreciate until they’ve seen it first-hand.

Solitude was almost everything to me.

Unfortunately, what I considered solitude, most people considered isolation. It took me six months to realize that I didn’t own a mirror. When I finally saw myself again, I was pretty much the same: six four,” buzzed brown hair, blue eyes, broad as a barn door, and sporting a beard that was headed for Grizzly Adams territory.

I relished in the isolation for years. It was a welcomed sanctuary after experiencing hell served on a silver platter.

After I was medically discharged from combat and lost my leg to an IED, I returned to my hometown, Boston, and my welcome-home present was the discovery of wife’s pregnancy with another man’s baby. The fucktard happened to be a man I once considered a friend. Needless to say, it led to a nasty divorce and my eventual move thousands of miles away to no man’s land.

The way I saw it, I had two options: murder the man who knocked up my wife, or leave town and shut myself off from everyone.

I chose the latter.

Isolating myself in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains in Buffalo, Wyoming was just what I needed. That’s where I belonged, also where I started my life all over. It was a stark contrast from my life in Boston, but it was exactly what I needed.

Little did I know it would be the future home for my niece and I. Life had a way of kicking us both while we were down, but we sure as hell weren’t going to give it the satisfaction of taking our dignity.

Not on my damn watch.

***

As I walked into the elementary school Star attended, I glared over to the playground hoping to catch the five-year-old doing something resembling fun.

Crap, am I even cut out for this?

I asked myself the same damn question that filled my mind for months.

Since Star moved into my cabin, we’d experienced roadblock after roadblock. To say she’d been having trouble adjusting to her new environment would be putting it lightly.

In truth, it’d been a complete shit show, and I couldn’t blame her one damn bit. Star had every right to hate the world. The poor kid went through years of hell, and three months of living with an uncle who practically cut himself off from everyone he knew wasn’t going to give her the warm and fuzzies.

Before walking inside, I finally caught a glimpse of the cute little cotton-top girl whose blond hair was a mess of curls, pulled back into a confused ponytail. Like most mornings, I tried to do her hair and failed royally. I couldn’t figure out how many times to loop the damn hair band. It was either too loose or so tight it would give her a facelift. And those baby hairs—what the hell was I supposed to do with those little hairs?

Star was sitting on a swing, slowly moving back and forth and seemed to be watching a crowd of kids who were playing Red Rover. I could tell she wanted to play, but it was as if she was afraid of some invisible force lurking in the darkness.

Star was afraid to get close to anyone. If only she could open up and learn to trust others enough to be happy. I’d give anything to see a smile on my niece’s face again. There was just one problem: I was her sole caretaker and just about the worst example for any kid to mirror their life after. We both found comfort in locking the whole damn world out.

I walked inside, angry that I couldn’t do more for her. She deserved the best, and as far as I could tell, I was failing miserably at giving her that. Whereas most kids her age couldn’t be paid to shut up, Star barely spoke a few words in a day. It was a stark contrast to the chatty two-year-old I remembered my brother gushing about.

“I’m here to see Counselor Durdin.” I rattled the keys in my pocket, playing it cool, but not fooling myself.

The woman behind the counter pushed up her glasses. She was a pretty girl, with bright- blue eyes and a soft complexion, but she had a severe, red slash across her mouth that had been done up with too much lipstick. The woman didn’t need that much makeup, but noticing the scar marring her lip, I could understand, probably more than most people could.

To this day, I could still feel the presence of all ten toes from my left leg, even though it had been torn from my body in combat. It was easier to mask the injury, than give others the opportunity to ask me about it, or even worse, pretend like it didn’t exist. I hated the moment others would stare, the way their postures would change ever so slightly, the way they’d avert their eyes like they’d been caught staring at something they shouldn’t be seeing. It was easier to avoid the whole damn experience all together. I’d rather stick fucking needles in my eye.

“Have a seat, and she’ll call you back in a moment.” She pressed a button on her phone and then as I took a seat in a black plastic chair, which had been molded for much smaller people, I heard her relaying the message that I was there.

I stared at the Bison mascot mural for what seemed like ten minutes, before I heard my name called. “Mr. Owens?”

I looked up to see a professionally-dressed older woman, with long black hair down to her waist. I stood as she held out her hand and took it, surprised when she gave it a firm shake.

“I’m Hattie Durdin, the school’s counselor. I’m so glad you were able to make it today.” She turned and led me into her office, shutting the door once we were inside. She offered me a seat across from her desk and I sank my large frame down into it before speaking.

“I’ve been wondering how Star has been progressing in school. Thank you for arranging this meeting.”

“Mr. Owens, Star’s adjustment at this school is important to both of us. I was assigned to follow up with her by her caseworker in Boston. The case worker called me earlier this week to ask how Star has been holding up.”

“Case worker? I hadn’t been aware a case worker was assigned to Star.” I said, slightly annoyed that no one from the state of Massachusetts cared to inform me of such a pressing matter.

“I’m sorry you were not made aware. I’ll be working with you to keep you abreast of everything going forward. I learned the move for Star has been quite a change for her. The poor girl has been showing signs of it too. Are you aware that she doesn’t speak here at school? That’s a sign of a child that’s been through severe trauma much like Star.”

“Yes, I’ve had conversations with Star’s teacher about it. We are doing our best to help Star adjust. It hasn’t been easy.”

“I see.” She paused to write something down in her legal pad. “Mr. Owens, normally we would use discipline in such matters, but Star’s situation is unique.”

“Discipline? Why would you discipline her?” I asked, getting more annoyed.

“Well, my concern is that this may be more of a defiance issue—” she started.

“Hold on a second,” I said, cutting her off. “Didn’t the teacher tell you that she doesn’t talk at all? It has nothing to do with defiance. She doesn’t talk to me but a few words here and there.”

“Oh, I see. So this isn’t simply a school issue.”

“No, ma’am. Not it at all. She has a trust issue. Rightfully so. If you’d been through what she has in the past few years, you’d be leery of the world too,” I said sternly.

I’d be damned if anyone was going to overlook Star’s traumatic past, and use her defense mechanisms against her.

Star’s father, my brother Luke, passed away in battle when she was two. Her mother spent her time drowning her sorrows in alcohol, to the point she became neglectful and frankly a poor excuse for a mother. I didn’t care how depressed she was after my brother’s death. It was no reason for her to abandon Star.

Star was thrown into the foster care system when she was three. Most of the homes had only been temporary, so she’d been moved around seven times in the past two years until I’d taken her in only months ago. I’d only had custody of Star for the last three months. It would have been sooner had I been made aware of the matter, but I’d shut off communication from friends and family for some time following my move to Wyoming. I still felt damn guilty about not getting involved sooner, but I was there for her now.

“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry for coming across as inconsiderate. It’s just that Star’s situation is concerning and we all want the best for her. What are your thoughts about exposing her to some outside support? She seems to be struggling with reading. Since she won’t talk, it’s been a challenge to come to this conclusion. We feel if she were to have a tutor, someone who could help her build a bit of confidence using her voice in private, then maybe she’d open up a bit here in the classroom and participate.”

“I’ll make it work. I haven’t really read her any books, but I’ll start.”

I had just recently gotten the bedtime routine down, and it didn’t include storybooks. I told her tales about me and her dad when we were kids. She seemed to like those stories a lot, so maybe she’d enjoy a fairy tale or fable book as well.

“That would certainly help, but I’d still look for someone to tutor her. We don’t want her to fall behind.”

The idea of her struggling through school had me worried. What she learned in school would take her through life, and I couldn’t let her be shortchanged. More importantly, Star needed to feel confident that she was just as smart and capable as the other students, if not more, and not fall in a trap leading to low self-esteem onto her adult life.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Is there anyone you can recommend?” I asked.

She reached into her desk and handed me a paper with a list of names. “These are a list of older students and teachers who don’t mind helping with tutoring. They’re here on Saturdays and three nights a week. You can call and set something up if you like, just let us know when you do. We want to mark her progress. And don’t worry, Mrs. Marsh will be doing everything she can on her end to see that she keeps her levels up. She is a bit younger than the other kids, too, so that makes a difference.”

“Well, her birthday is tomorrow. She’ll be six.”

“Yes, I saw that in her file. Have the two of you made any plans?”

“I’m taking her out for pizza and ice cream."

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Star’s lucky to have an uncle like you in her life. Without your help she would be in a far dire situation.”

I nodded and cleared my throat.

Unfortunately, luck was something Star lacked most thus far – but I was going to change that. Before Star came into my life, I was living life for myself isolated from everyone, a selfish bastard telling the world to fuck off in every way imaginable.

Now, I had a bigger purpose and I wasn’t going to let my dim past screw things up Star.