Heather

However, I woke to the smell of bacon and homemade strawberry waffles this morning. When I showered and came down for breakfast, I found Dad in the kitchen alone, sitting two plates on the table. His face was expressionless, as he took in my new haircut.

I sat down, waiting for him to explode, but it never came. He sat, tucking into his breakfast without a word. The room was silent, until I placed my fork on my empty plate.

“Let’s go for a ride,” Dad said with a warm smile on his face.

I couldn’t help the smile that took over mine. It’s been so long since Dad has had the time to take one of our road trips. Black and Lock has really taken off in the last seven years. Dad and Uncle Joe have been in high demand.

It feels like old times, as we ride up the road. Dad has old school R&B playing in the background and a smile on his face. We’ve talked about everything, but my new haircut.

When Dad turns off road, I look over at him curiously. He doesn’t say a word, he just continues to drive on the old dirt road. If my dad didn’t ooze safety and protectiveness, I would’ve started to panic.

When we reach an old cabin, Dad stops the truck and climbs out to stretch. We’ve been on the road most of the morning. It didn’t seem like it when we were driving.

I get out of the car and look around at all of the mountain tops. The place is breathtaking, peaceful. I inhale, letting my chest fill with the fresh air.

Hearing my dad rustling around in the truck bed, I turn, moving to the back of the truck to see what he’s up to. When I reach my Dad, his muscles are bulging from the large black cases he’s holding at his sides. I look at the cases, then back up at Dad. My brows furrow in question. He just gives me a nod to follow him. I shrug and do just that.

Dad walks around the cabin, to the backyard of the house. Yet, he doesn’t stop. We keep going, walking into a wooded area. With each step my curiosity rises.

We clear the woods and it all becomes a little clearer. Dad often likes to shoot a few rounds to blow off steam. I’ve never been up here before, but I know he goes out to shoot with my uncles Joe, Steve, and Chase often enough.

I get ready to take a seat on a nearby tree stomp, but my father’s voice interrupts my action. “Come over here with me for a bit,” Dad says.

I move to the makeshift table he has set the cases on. It’s like two long pieces of wood were nailed together and placed on top of wooden posts. It looks sturdy enough and seems to hold up under the heavy looking cases.

I move to Dad’s side, looking up at him. At first, he looks down at me, not saying a word. I can see sadness in his eyes as he looks back at me.

He reaches to brush a hand over my new haircut, the first time he has acknowledged it. Tugging me in for a hug, he kisses the top of my head. I wrap my arms around his middle, absorbing the hug.

“Talk to me, Kiddo,” he says, his voice choked-up. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I reply, pulling away slowly.

He seems to reluctantly release me. I watch the wheels turn in his head, while he studies my face. I do my best to keep anything from surfacing. After all, I’ve had years of practice.

“I still remember the day you were born like it was yesterday,” Dad says, his smile returning. “I swore I’d do anything I could to protect you. I wish it were as easy to keep that promise as it was to make it. I never thought your mother would walk away the way she did.

“I should’ve talked to you sooner about how that made you feel. If this is about her, tell me. We can figure things out,” Dad tries.

I frown, shaking my head. “I just wanted a change, Dad. It had nothing to do with her,” I shrug.

“How are things at school?”

I shrug again, leaning a hip up against the table. “It’s okay, I guess. My grades are good,” I reply.

“Are the other kids good to you,” Dad asks cautiously.

I give him a smirk. “Honestly Dad, if they weren’t, I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Dad throws his head back and laughs. “That’s my girl,” he chuckles, bringing me in for another hug, placing a kiss on my forehead. “In that case, I want to talk to you about a few things. Your mother hated when I used to rough house with you. I think every girl should be able to handle herself.”

Dad releases me, reaching to open one of the cases. My lips part when all of the guns inside come into view. I look up at my dad, then, back at the guns.

“You want to teach me to shoot?” I say softly.

“Your cousin, Bean is a better sniper than some of the men I’ve served with. I think it’s time to get you up to speed,” Dad replies.

I nod wordlessly. I can feel the sweat breakout on my forehead. I’m afraid of guns. I’ve seen what they can do. I’ve never thought to touch one.

Yes, I know Aunt Cass keeps two shotguns over the front door of the house. I’ve just never seen her use them. To me, they’ve been just as much decoration in the house as the drapes.

When dad reaches in, removing one of the pistols and a clip, I feel my palm drip with sweat, as they begin to shake. I’m not sure I want to do this. Sensing my hesitation, Dad puts down the gun, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll take it slow. If you’re not comfortable doing this, we can work on some hand to hand combat for a bit,” Dad says to reassure me.

I bite my lip. “Okay,” I nod, blowing out a breath.

Dad picks the gun back up and walks me through loading it. When he places it in my hand, my hesitation begins to wean. The heavy metal brings an unexpected comfort.

Dad retrieves his own pistol from the case. He loads it, then aims at the targets already set up in the distance. I listen intently to his words.

“Guns don’t hurt people, but we can use them to hurt people. Don’t aim one of these things unless you’re ready to use it and to face the consequences of that action,” Dad says.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Saving your own life is always a good reason to use one,” Dad nods. “Now, I’m going to aim at the target and filter out everything else.”

I hold my breath when dad begins to let off a few rounds. He shoots right through the glass bottles, one by one. Not a shot wasted.

I’m in awe, my dad has always been my hero. Seeing him with the gun in his hand,—proving he knows how to use it,—fills me with a feeling I can’t quite describe just yet. I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing, until his final shot rings out.

“You’re up, Kiddo. Just aim and shoot. No pressure,” Dad coaches.

I lick my dry lips, aiming the gun at the targets. I pull the trigger the first time and miss. My shoulders sag, I drop my hands to my sides, still gripping the gun in my fingers.

“Hey, that was just your first try. You got this, Heather. Come on, try again,” Dad says soothingly.

I nod, lifting my arms again, widening my stance. I focus on the glass bottle, blocking out everything but my dad. I listen as he quietly instructs me some more.

“That’s it, now squeeze,” Dad gives the soft command.

I do as he says, gasping when the first bottle shatters. I try again and the next one explodes before my eyes. I squeeze again and again.

I yelp with joy. Placing the gun on the table, I jump into my dad’s arms. I can finally place the feeling I have. It’s empowerment. I’ve never felt this empowered.

Suddenly, I can taste the promise Braxton and I made to each other, a few weeks ago. I push back that fear that has been gripping me for longer than I want to remember. Before, in my head, I could only see Eugene pulling the trigger on Skinny Man.

Now, my side having guns too has become a reality. Not only does it help to see my dad using a gun, but he’s offered me the chance to know how to use one myself. Which means, someday, I’ll be able to settle the score with Ernest.

I lick my lips, tasting the sweetest thought I’ve ever had. I don’t even realize how closely my father has been watching me, as I now bounce on my feet in front of him.

His eyes are dark. I begin to fidget, wondering if I’ve revealed too much. I turn back for the table and the gun, checking the clip to avoid my dad’s gaze.

“I’m always here to listen, Heather. All you have to do is talk to me,” Dad says to fill the growing silence.

“I know, Dad, I know,” I nod.