CHAPTER 3: NOAH
“Grandpa, where the hell have you been? We’ve been waiting for ages,” I say.
My grandfather steps out of his pickup slowly and without a word. I frown. “I swear he has become a lot thinner since the last time I saw him,” I whisper to Glyn.
“How the fuck would you know? You haven’t visited the poor man in like forever to know any better.”
I shake my head at his glib remark. I guess I deserved that. “Well, if you knew what he is like then you would run a mile too,” I respond tersely.
“You always know best, Boss,” is the only shit response I get.
“Oh, come on, Grandpa…really.”
“What?” Grandpa lights up his cigarette with the zippo lighter grandma gave him before his tour in Nam.
I watch him closely. Instead of coming to us, he walks to the garage that is a building separated from the main house, pulls open the double doors and steps inside. What the fu...? What’s he doing now? I look at Glyn, but he is busy on his tablet, tapping away. Instead of following my grandfather, I wait in front of his small-detached house that is situated close to a lake.
It’s the same as I remember it – wooden boarded and colored in a green that has suffered from the elements. There is a porch that runs across the front facing the lake. Further down, there is a boardwalk, reaching out over the water where grandpa’s rowing boat for fishing is moored. The windows are small, and the place could do with a serious makeover, but I always loved it here when growing up.
The property encompasses acre after acre of land. Grandpa had added to it every time he had some spare cash. His reasoning being, “I hate having fucking neighbors. And besides, I do it for you and Hunter. Young kids, especially boys, need space.”
He was right. The endless tours on his land, playing cowboys and Indians until dusk with my brother in the summer were every boy’s dream. In the evenings, the three of us would always sit on that very same porch I am staring at right now, eating burgers or steak or maybe fish we caught in the lake. Each of us had a beer in his hands. I swear, I think my brother and I were the only kids in the country that drank Fall Creek Draft at the age of seven and nine.
But that was not only it. Grandpa told the most amazing stories. Anything really about the pioneers that populated this land or the wars against the British that nearly destroyed this country granddad loves so much. He spoke of our ancestors, some of the people who founded Fall Creek, and their ordeals against the native Indians and how they survived. Before bed, he would always say, “Boys, us Jacksons are survivors and never let anyone tell ya otherwise.”
“Why the hell, do you look so damn glum? One might think something got stuck in your ass, Kid.”
Both Glyn and I look in his direction. Next, to me Glyn instinctively takes a step back. I have to stifle a chuckle. I have never seen my executive assistant look so petrified before. It is certainly different dealing with flouncy pop divas to handling James Jackson that’s for sure.
“Hey, Grandpa…it’s great to see you,” I say meaning it. Seeing the grizzled old man makes me soft inside no matter how many times I promised myself I would never come back here again. For years, I could never forgive him. Yet, as time passed by, I somehow forgot the reason for all that. I guess I worked too much to think about it really. Granddad eyes me closely. He rummages in his shirt pocket.
“Damn it, Grandpa. That is so unhealthy. I can’t believe you still smoke like a fucking chimney.”
He arches his eyebrows, his stone-hard face, weathered by over seventy summers, becoming even more menacing. “Well fuck, Noah. The Marlboro Cowboy would’ve looked like a fucking fag without a Marlboro dangling from his lips.” He promptly lights up again to make his point.
Next, to me Glyn nearly melts into himself. “Noah, are you sure I am safe here?” he hisses between clenched teeth.
“Who’s the black ‘pencil pusher’ you got with ya?” asks grandpa with smoke eddying out of his nostrils and mouth. “Another one of those damn pricks who can’t put his damn phone away?”
“Grandpa, It’s not a phone,” I say, softening again.
“I don’t give a shit what it is.” He lurches forward with speed belying his advanced years and grabs the tablet from Glyn’s trembling fingers. He makes to throw it in the direction of the lake.
“Stop, Grandpa. It’s like paper. We work with those things nowadays. Glyn needs it,” I shout, placing my hand on him before he can execute his threat.
“Who the hell is Glyn?”
“That would be me, Sir,” says Glyn with eyes the size of saucers.
Grandpa eyes up Glyn with his piercing gaze. “I see,” he mutters. “He works for you at that music label thing you started?”
I nod; surprised that he knows what I do for a living. I never told him. I guess word even got to Fall Creek about my meteoric success. After leaving Fall Creek at the age of eighteen, I first went to New York to find work. However, most of the jobs in my field were in LA. So, that’s where I went. I started working as an office clerk for one of the big labels in LA and never looked back since. The moment I signed my own talent, I upped sticks and headed back east to New York to set up my own firm.
I hired Glyn a few years later, and my business turned from great to awesome. I must think about offering him a part of my firm – I make a mental note to contact my lawyers when I get back to NYC. He deserves it after all he has done for me. I would hate to lose him as my executive assistant, but he should be my second in command; Glyn needs to progress professionally. My granddad’s rasping voice brings me back to where I am standing.
“Okay, I guess he can have it back then. But under one condition.”
“And that would be?” I ask, already hating his rules.
“The people that stay on my property will show the proper courtesy and talk. I will not have his face glued to this thing the whole fucking time while we are spending quality time together. So tell your boyfriend that he can have it back on probation.”
“Grandpa…” I try, wanting to stress that Glyn is not my partner.
But granddad is already walking in the direction of his house. “Are you two assholes coming or what? You and…” He turns around and stares at my executive assistant with fierce dark brown eyes that are almost black.
“Glyn,” mutters Glyn.
“Yeah, Glen can share your old room with you, Noah.” Granddad turns and continues walking. “Noah, go grab the coal out of the garage and prepare the barbeque, I’ll go get us some beers,” he commands in marine sergeant style. He walks some more, taking his first step onto the porch. “And, yeah, Glen, you can come with me and help me gut the fish and season the steaks.”
“Noah, this is not in my job description,” huffs Glyn, almost fainting. “I hate beer; I am a vegetarian and what was that about gutting something.” He rolls his eyes so that I can only see the whites. “And what did he say about us sharing a room…there’s no way I am doing that.”
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, GLEN?”
“Coming…” Glyn spins on his feet as he dashes to the house. “I am not sharing a room with you,” he hisses, as he nearly falls over on the step to the porch.
I chuckle – this is payback, Glyn, for all the shit you gave me on the way over here. I was dreading this moment ever since I got grandpa’s call that he needed to see me. It was so unlike him to ask anything of anybody. In fifteen years, he never phoned once since our acrimonious separation. I just couldn’t figure out what he wanted from me after all of this time. Had something happened to Hunter or is he getting soft in his old age?
I sigh as I make my way to the garage. I guess I will find out soon enough. Grandpa never says anything until he is good and ready. I shake my head. How can we be preparing the grill now? I look at my watch. It’s barely eleven o’clock in the morning. Usually, grandpa has a big breakfast that would last him until dinnertime. “Some things do change,” I mutter as I grab a sack of coal by the wall in the garage.
On the way out, I stop. I whistle. Grandpa’s Gran Torino. What a ‘beut.’ Not once did he take us out in it. The car just stood there for years. Of course, he claimed that both Hunter and I had driven in it when we were very young and when grandma was still alive. I never could quite understand why he never drove it anytime after she passed – he never said. I guess I’ll ask him later.
****
“You never grilled a steak before, Glen. Fuck, you are useless. Do ya need one of those oversized phones to show ya how to do it,” hollers granddad.
“I am a vegetarian, Sir.”
“A what?”
“He doesn’t eat meat, Grandpa,” I say, shifting closer to him. “And it’s not a phone but an iPad.”
“Who gives a shit…just go help him out with the food before he cremates it. And see that Glen gets an extra portion of fish. We wouldn’t want the guy to die from mad cow disease, now would we?”
“Sure thing, Grandpa,” I say, surprised at his uncustomary softness concerning Glyn’s dietary preferences. “His name is Glyn, I add, patting him on the arm.
“That’s what I keep saying…Glen” snorts granddad.
Getting up, I realize how much I missed the old bastard. Especially after I saw my old room that he had not touched in all this time. It was as if he did not want to jinx anything by altering a thing. It makes me feel warm inside that he always waited for the day I would return. The way we parted was not what I had wanted, but grandpa had been adamant I leave no matter what I felt for her. I think he always knew that I would make my way in the world rather than in Fall Creek. Hunter, on the other hand, belonged here.
“Now come on, I am hungry. You only live once, and that’s not forever.”
The power of his voice hovers in the air like a swarm of bees, entering and exiting the hive. I frown. That’s so not like my grandfather. He hates platitudes like that. He always called them bumper sticker shit that some asshole created to sound intelligent.
“Glen, go get some more cold ones. I’m all out here and hanging dry.”
“This is a nightmare, Noah. When we get back to New York, I want a raise.” Glyn stutters as he skips in the direction of the living room. “And if you touch me tonight, Serge will have you murdered.”
“Now, look who thinks he’s God’s gift to man,” I say, barely stifling my mirth.
Glyn’s mouth drops. “I will get you back for that.” Without another word, he races into the house before grandpa can harangue him some more.
That was my first home run against Glyn – hell yeah. I remove the steaks from the heat and place them on two plates. After, I place the fish on another plate for Glyn.
In the meantime, Glyn returns from inside the house with three beers. “I don’t know why I am drinking this stuff,” he says when he hands me my beer.
“I take it granddad doesn’t have any Aqua Amora in his fridge.”
Glyn rolls his eyes in the way he always does. “It’s like having lunch with Genghis Khan. He’s nasty, and there’s nothing but alcohol in this place.”
I chuckle.
“Glen, bring over my fucking beer and sit your ass down. You, Noah, bring the damn plates before the food gets cold,” yells granddad.
I chuckle again when I get a withering glower from my assistant. One thing’s for sure; he will never forget his brief sojourn in Fall Creek. I head back to the old wooden table. From the corner of my eye, I watch Glyn settle down on one of the tree stumps, acting as a seat as if he is planting his naked behind on a nest of bulldog ants.
“Enjoy,” says grandpa, sawing his steak. He pops a piece of meat into his mouth and starts to chew. “Next time, Glyn, try to make it bloodier.”
Glyn winces as he places a small bit of trout into his mouth. “Do we have any salad?” he asks, scanning the table. It is the wrong thing to say.
“Do I look like a fucking rabbit to you, Glen? Here have a roll” Granddad throws one in his direction. “So, Noah…tell me, how have things been since you left here fifteen years ago? Anyone special in your life or you just been banging teenage pop singers?” Glyn sniggers. “Anything funny about that, Glen?”
“Uh…no, I guess. It’s just that Noah is not really the relationship type of guy,” he stutters.
“Oh, really…that’s a shame, Noah. Life is not worth living unless you have that special somebody to share it with,” says granddad.
“I agree, Mr. Jackson,” says Glyn, slowly acclimatizing himself to his surroundings. “Love is the most powerful thing that exists. That bond between two people that is unbreakable is what we, as humans, should strive for above all things. You take the good and the bad in a person and love it. Because love is not just about the easy stuff in life but about when it gets tough. You deal with it as a team and give all you got.”
Granddad looks up from his plate with a thoughtful expression on his face. “That was well said, Glyn,” he takes a large slug from his beer bottle, “I can see why you hired this guy, Noah. He sure knows his stuff…cheers, Glyn…to love,” he says, at last, using Glyn’s real name.
I watch the two of them clink their bottles a few more times. I can’t believe that granddad and Glyn are actually hitting it off. Within moments, the entire conversation at the table takes place between the two of them. They philosophize about love some more with granddad telling Glyn all about my grandma. In turn, Glyn tells grandpa all about Serge. My eyes open wide when grandpa tells Glyn that his man sounds like a really nice guy and that the two of them are welcome at Fall Creek anytime. And grandpa is of course invited to the wedding.
“So, my grandson doesn’t do girlfriends and ergo is not the marrying type, eh?” asks grandpa, bringing the conversation back to me.
I shake my head and pull a face. “Nope. I am just not a one-woman kind of guy. There’s so much hot ass out there; I wouldn’t want to deprive myself of that for only one piece of it. And besides, relationships generally don’t work; people are not made for them. I don’t know the statistics, but marriages break up more often than they survive. Why waste time if you ask me?”
“That is the biggest load of shit I ever heard. Fuck, I thought I raised you differently, Noah. Instead, I got a fucking virgin sitting at my table. Thank god you brought a real guy along with ya. Glyn here is twice the man you’ll ever be and always will be if you maintain an attitude like that.”
I can’t believe what I am hearing. “Me a virgin; I have had more quif than Jack Nicholson,” I say, laughing at the absurdity of my grandfather’s insinuation.
“Yeah, just what I thought; he’s a virgin, Glyn.” Granddad and Glyn clink their bottles again in celebration before my grandfather focuses all of his attention back to me.
“You ain’t been with a woman until you’ve loved her, Kid. All that other crap you think you’ve been doing counts for nothing. All you do is run around trying to stick your pecker into some random pussy, all the while thinking you're cool and doing something special when in reality you’re a fucking hypocrite.” He hacks out a guttural laugh. “Wait until you hold a woman you can’t ever let go…it’s mind-blowing to say the least. To wake up next to her and see the most beautiful person there is lying there with you because she would rather be nowhere else in the world – that’s what I call magical.”
Glyn nearly starts crying. “I know what you mean, Mr. Jackson. Oh, my God, I miss Serge.”
“Call me James. Enough of that formal shit already.” He turns back to me and slaps the palms of his hands on his legs. “Let’s grill some more steaks and fish; you, Glyn, go get us some more beers. We’ll eat, drink and talk some more before we go to the party.”
Party? WTF – there’s no way I am going to a party in Fall Creek.