Sienna

I was supposed to work the dinner shift, but the second I got into Kace’s truck, I knew I wasn’t going to work. So as he drove, I casually sent a few texts to find someone to cover for me. Lexi offered to cover and work a double, as long as it was approved. I asked her to take care of it, that I was taking a mental health day. Maybe she was covering for me because she felt bad about what happened. Maybe that was the wrong way of getting someone to cover my shift, but whatever.

I was with Kace. Right where I wanted to be.

“Where are going?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said. “Don’t worry. It’s not scary.”

“I didn’t suggest that.”

He grinned. “I want to show you where I found my passion for junk.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

As we moved out of the part of town that Kace called the shit hole, I felt relieved. He took a left and we drove by a pizza place that had probably been there for a hundred years. It was the kind of place where it looked like a dump but had the best food ever.

It was another ten minutes before Kace pulled up to a house that looked like it needed some serious work. Or a wrecking ball to just end its life. The porch was tilted, the pillars cracked, paint chipped and scuffed down to the bare wood. The storm door had the screen peeled back from the top right corner, just flapping away. The front door had three small glass panes, the one on the left with a piece of wood covering it, telling me that the glass had been broken. In the front window was a faded newspaper page of an American flag. There was some kind of plant in the front window too, most of it brown and dead, but a few random pieces were green and thriving. The bushes were overgrown. The grass matched. Everything about the house screamed…

“Shit hole,” Kace whispered to me. “A complete and total shit hole.”

“What is this?”

“This is where I grew up, darlin’,” he said.

I looked at him. “It’s not that bad.”

He laughed. “Don’t be like that, Sienna. It’s a dump. But it wasn’t always like this. Come here, I want to show you something.”

Kace inched forward and swung a right turn down what looked like a man made dirt path. The truck bumped along the rocks for a few seconds before he stopped and finally parked it. He turned the truck off and got out.

We were near the back of the house where there was a deceivingly massive yard.

“Those are old apple and pear trees,” he said, pointing. “You can’t eat them, but me and Mack used to collect them and hit them with baseball bats. It was pretty fun.”

I pointed to one of the trees with a few pieces of wood halfway up. “What happened there?”

“Tried to make a treehouse once,” Kace said. “Didn’t turn out so well. Come here.”

He offered his hand and I took it. Our fingers didn’t interlock though. It wasn’t that kind of holding hands. He was just guiding the way through the yard.

“This is actually my grandfather’s house,” he said. “He was a construction guy all his life. Built a lot of houses and buildings in this town and around the state. He used to collect stuff too. Everyone picked on him for his junk, but when I was kid and things weren’t going all that great, he would take me to his work shed and show me his collections of junk.”

“So that’s where you got it from,” I said, smiling.

“For the most part, yeah.”

“Does your grandfather still live here?” I asked.

Kace looked down at his feet as we walked. “No. He passed away when I was ten.”

“Ten? Oh, Kace…”

“It’s okay. It happens. His heart gave out. It is what it is. I didn’t bring you here to talk about that stuff though. I wanted to show you where I come to do my work.”

He pointed to an old looking shed. Actually, it looked like a barn to me. Maybe not quite as big, but the shape was similar.

He paused at the large door and reached up to unlatch a metal lock. The door opened with a long creaking sound and I was hit with the smell of musty wood and a hint of sawdust.

I stepped inside and looked around.

“It’s all junk,” Kace said.

“It’s…”

“A fucking mess, darlin’,” he said with a smile. “A lot of stuff in the corners was from my grandfather, so I don’t bother to touch it. But this is where I come when I find a project to work on. I obviously can’t do it at my apartment.”

I nodded. “I kind of wondered about that. Where you worked. This is nice.”

“No it’s not,” he said. “But it fits me. I get to hide here and do my thing.”

There was a long bench from end to end with tools, pieces of wood, and random items stacked everywhere.

“There was this one time I remember,” Kace said. He looked around. “It was a really bad day. My grandfather put me in his car and we went for a drive. We didn’t talk. There was no talking because it was only going to be excuses. We took a drive for maybe an hour when he saw a random yard sale. So he pulled over and there was this mirror. It was more of a frame with a mirror in the center. It was kind of ugly. But he insisted on getting it. We brought it back here, sanded the wood down and refinished it. Cleaned up the glass and made it look brand new. Then he took me to some antique type store and sold the mirror for ten times what he paid for it. He gave me the money and told me to keep it safe.”

“Did you keep it safe?” I asked.

“Fuck no, darlin’. I took that cash and me and Mack got on our bikes and went to the arcade. Then we bought comic books. Then we bought pizza. I blew through the money in five hours. But something about that day… my grandfather sort of plucked me out of hell for a little bit. And it stuck with me.”

Kace put his hands to the table and took a deep breath.

I had never seen him vulnerable before. Not even the slightest bit. Up to that point, he’d never really told me anything about himself or his life.

For a few seconds I didn’t know how to react. I stepped toward him and touched his arm.

“Whatever that hell was for you, I’m sorry you went through it.”

He nodded. “It’s life, Sienna. And I think out of everyone I’ve met, you understand that. So maybe that’s the reason why…”

I pulled at his arm, wanting him to turn and look at me. I felt like with each breath I took, I was getting closer to him. We were invading each other’s pasts and presents. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Not at all.

Kace turned and looked beyond me. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” I asked.

I turned my head and saw a man standing near the doorway.

He looked angry. Really angry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled in a slurred voice. “This is my fucking house. This is my fucking property.”

Kace slipped an arm around my waist and shifted me back.

“Kace, what’s happening?” I asked.

“Darlin’ … we need to go now.”

* * *

The man reached for the door but missed it and fell to the side. His shoulder smashed against the doorway and he turned, falling right into the other side of the doorway. He quickly hugged it, groaning as he did so. He was in a dirty white shirt with ripped jeans. He had no shoes on and one sock on his left foot.

“Kace…”

“Hey, it’s me,” Kace said as he approached the obviously drunk man. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The man looked at Kace. “Oh, Kace. Jesus Christ. You fucking scared me half to death. I was looking for Bootsy out here and I heard a goddamn noise.”

“Bootsy?” Kace asked.

“Yeah. Your goddamn dog,” the man said. “The one Santa Claus had to fucking bring you. Right?”

“Bootsy’s been dead for years, Dad,” Kace said.

Dad?

I covered my mouth.

“Huh?” Kace’s dad asked. “Oh. Right. Yeah. I was just messing with you, Kace. Oh, it’s good to see you. Hey, who is this?”

Kace’s dad looked at me.

“I’m Sienna,” I said.

“Sienna. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Carl. I’m Kace’s father. Now you know where he gets his good looks from.”

Carl put an arm around Kace. He was a good six inches shorter than his son. He smiled and was missing a bunch of teeth. There was a resemblance there but believe me, Kace was cleaned up, tall, built, and looked nothing like the rough shape of his father.

I could see the look in Kace’s eyes. He was pissed off and maybe even ashamed. Because it was pretty blatant that his father was dead drunk.

I smiled. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Dad, you have to go back inside.”

“Like hell I do,” Carl said. “This is my place. My house.”

“I pay for this place,” Kace said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Carl said. “How about this guy, huh?” Carl looked at me and pointed to Kace. “Fixing up old shit and selling it to rich people. What a brain on him, huh? And here I thought he was going to be a football player.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

“Football?” Kace asked. “Dad, I never played football.”

“Oh, you sure did, kiddo. I took you out in the backyard and we threw the old pigskin around. You had great hands.”

“He still does,” I said, not thinking as the words came out. My face burned red hot as I scrambled to point to the long table with supplies. “He uses his hands to make things that people like.”

“Right,” his dad said with a nod. “Are you here to buy something?”

“Possibly,” Kace said. “So how about you leave us be now?”

“Sure, sure, sure. I’d hate to mess you up here, Kace. Work your magic.”

Kace put a hand on me as his father turned. Carl made it two steps before standing on his own foot and tripping forward.

“Goddammit,” he cried out as he fell to the ground.

He hit it hard and I jumped forward.

“No,” Kace whispered to me. “Please.”

Kace went to his father’s aid, crouching to help him. Carl threw a quick elbow and hit Kace in the mouth. His head snapped back and I saw blood. He jumped up and hurried back into the workshop, his fists balled up tightly.

“Kace…”

He turned and threw a punch, hitting a piece of a wood, shattering it.

“Fuck,” he growled.

I tried to get near him but he shook me away and looked back at me. “Go to my truck, darlin’. You don’t need to see this shit right now.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“Just go to my fucking truck. Please.”

Kace left the workshop again just as his father was up on one foot. Carl reached for nothing and fell to his side, smashing his right shoulder into the ground. That’s when he burst into laughter. He was a beaten up, old, dirty drunk, that was giggling at the air. And believe me, this wasn’t a laughing matter. At all.

My heart twisted and ached as Kace stood over Carl.

Something told me that this wasn’t the first time that Kace had had to deal with this situation.

I slowly exited the workshop and walked through the yard. I kept myself slightly turned so that I could see Kace and his father.

Kace got Carl to his feet as Carl kept laughing.

“You see that damn root?” Carl called out. “I sure as hell didn’t.”

“You didn’t trip, Dad,” Kace said in a cold voice. “You’d better go and take a shower and clean up. You smell like shit.”

“Hardworking smell like shit, Kace,” Carl said.

He tried to reach across his body and touch Kace. Kace backed away to keep his father from touching his face, but Carl managed to get his shirt, leaving a smear of dirt and mud.

I saw the rage in Kace’s eyes. Those old feelings of being a kid and feeling helpless while a parent does the worst things possible. And you’re unsure what to do because at the end of the day, you still need them. No matter what.

I froze and felt my throat clench as I fought back tears.

Kace looked down at his shirt.

Carl started to laugh again. “What the hell, Kace? Are you afraid of a little dirt? What are you, some pansy, huh? You fucking loser.”

That’s when Kace snapped. He shoved his hands into Carl’s shoulder and flung him across the yard like he was a toy.

I gasped when I saw it happen.

Kace looked right at me. His face dropped. If he wasn’t ashamed before, he was definitely ashamed now.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he turned. He walked to his father and helped him back up. Carl’s head bobbed around as he switched between laughing and singing. I had no idea what song he was trying to sing, but it wasn’t very good at all.

“Shower and bed, Dad,” Kace said. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ll fucking sleep when I’m dead,” Carl howled and laughed.

Kace walked Carl up the back steps to the house and went inside.

I waited a few seconds before I retreated back to the truck. I got inside and sat there, gazing at the empty driver’s spot, taking slow breaths, trying to keep myself contained.

To me, there was never such a true thing as fate. That stuff was used in movies to make parts believable, even when they weren’t. But there I was, sitting in Kace’s truck, trying to process everything that had happened between us. How he’d saved me from hurting myself. How he’d saved me from getting hurt in a different way. And now I sat there, witnessing some of his living scars.

It was another ten minutes before he came back to the truck.

He got inside, slammed the door, and started it.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said as he put the truck in reverse.

“I didn’t ask,” I said.

“I feel your stare burning at me, darlin’. I’ll take you back to your car.”

Kace got to the end of the road and cut the wheel. He put the truck in drive and crept forward, pausing at the front of the house.

I reached for his hand and squeezed.

His head snapped around to the look at me. His eyes were…

“Kace,” I whispered, “Take me to your place… I want to be with you.”