Lake Merwin, WA
April 22nd, 2021
He could almost hear the car doors closing from where he sat, the multiple thumps of each door being shut firmly, some perhaps a little too firmly, reaching his ears as his suspicions seemed about to be confirmed. Sighing to himself looked up at the hill on the other side of the lake, crossing his hands behind his head as saw the church resting high on the hill, a refuge for those that came here when they needed a place of worship. He’d walked into it just once, long enough to see that it didn’t hold any appeal for him before leaving for good.
His neighbors in this place liked him well enough and had wondered why he didn’t do a lot of things they did, why he wasn’t social, and why he was friendly but not into everything this place had to offer. That was pretty simple, he didn’t want to be. He had his RV, his truck, his boat, and a steady line of cash coming in from one of his old schemes that people were still sending money to, he didn’t need anything else. He certainly didn’t need women any longer, and he didn’t need anyone knowing where he was. That unfortunately had changed only a year ago when the first of his grandkids had tracked him down.
“There you are,” came a voice from the docks that was followed by hard, heavy footsteps that seemed to mean business. “Do you have any idea what’s coming to you?”
Closing his eyes he smiled as he replied, “Nope, and I don’t care.”
That seemed to stop the young man dead in his tracks for a moment as he could hear the skid of rubber soles on the hard plastic of the dock, and it made him smile. No one had ever been able to make him repent for the things he did, and no matter how long he’d stared at the cross’s that adorned the church across the lake he just couldn’t find it in him to say he was sorry. He knew he’d done people wrong, and he didn’t care.
“You son of a bitch,” the young man muttered. He just smiled a little more, rocking back as he opened his eyes to see the dark-skinned youth that was obviously the grandchild of one Tabitha, one of the three dark-skinned women he’d taken to bed over the years. If he remembered correctly she’d been the one in Grand Rapids, Michigan, that had wanted to take him to Burger King one night and had ended up getting her own version of ‘the Whopper’ when they returned home. Ah yeah, she’d been good at the time.
This kid was a spitting image of her, but thankfully he didn’t look too feminine.
“Son,” he said quietly, “If you’d known my mother then you would realize that’s a compliment.”
(to be continued)