Once the moment turned awkward, they shifted back from each other on the step and straightened out a bit, the way men do. They sat again in silence. Jack let a misplaced chuckle slip out that reminded Will so much of his father he almost started crying again, but he didn’t. He’d already gotten that out. Instead, he unintentionally mimicked Jack’s chuckle, which caused them both to laugh even harder. Will supposed their sudden mood swing brought on curious stares from some of the casserole eaters behind them, but he didn’t care.
“You know,” Jack said, “your father was pretty proud of you. He talked about you all the time.”
Will figured the drone would begin now, but he played along. “He did?”
“Of course he did. He rarely talked to me about anything else.”
“No,” Will said, elaborating on his point, “I mean, you two talked? I got the impression that you guys didn’t talk to each other at all.”
“Well, we didn’t exactly have Wednesday-night chat sessions or anything, but he was my brother, you know. We talked. Holidays, birthdays — that kind of thing.”
“Oh.” Will rested his elbows on his knees. He couldn’t help but wonder if what Jack had said was true or if he was lying just to make his nephew feel good.
“I’d ask him how things were going and immediately he’d get to rambling on about you.”
“What was the deal with you two, anyway?” Will asked. “He never talked to me about you.” He knew his words were callous. Jack didn’t seem to mind. “Did y’all have a falling out or something?”
“Or something,” Jack said, as if that took care of describing it. “We just led two very different lives. Your dad was always kind of a straight arrow, even when we were kids. He always did the right thing, despite what people thought of him or what it cost him. That’s what made him so damn likable.” Jack motioned with one shiny hand back toward the house. “It’s also why his house is packed out with so many people right now.”
Will rolled his eyes.
“Hey, think what you want about those people in there, but every one of them wishes they had an ounce of the stuff that made your father the man he was. I can promise you that. I know I do.”
That much sounded right to Will. He let his uncle talk.
“He was the kind of guy that people just wanted to be around. The kind you wanted in your corner. Very much the opposite of me.”
Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Back in the day,” he said, “me and my buddies did some dumb things — like lifting beer from Pollard’s or dragging three-oh-twos up on McDowell Road. Stuff like that always had me locking horns with your father, because he never approved. He definitely had a way of making you feel his disappointment if you strayed from the righteous path.”
Will felt himself nodding in agreement. He’d gotten into a fight at school once. He couldn’t even remember what started it, but he could remember after he was sent home how the look on his dad’s face had been far worse punishment than a whupping would have been.
“Your old man cast a long shadow, if you catch my meaning.”
“Yeah, I do. He was a high-road kind of guy.”
“The problems we had? That was all me. If your dad was a high-road kind of guy, then I was the low-road kind. I always found the easy way to do things and it always got me into trouble.” He thought on that for a second then added, “Your dad just didn’t understand. For him, being a fuck-up, and all the bad stuff that comes with it, just didn’t compute.”
Will felt a pinprick of joy when his uncle dropped the f-bomb. The adults he knew usually never cussed around kids. Hearing the f-bomb made him feel more grown up and less like the child everyone felt sorry for.
“When we were boys,” Jack said, “I used to resent your old man for being such a tight-ass, but as we grew up I started to realize that for all of his soapboxing and straight-shooter bullshit, he never once gave up on me or backed down from someone or something I got tangled up in. And believe me when I tell you, kiddo, I brought a truckload of bad news into his life. He could’ve walked away from me at any time and nobody would have blamed him, but Hank didn’t have it in him to walk away from anything.”
Hank. That was a name reserved only for the people that truly knew Will’s dad. Most everybody called him Henry, or Mr. Henry even, but never Hank. Mom called him Hank. Nana called him Hank. The name sounded strange coming from someone Will had just met, but it was also comforting, and it made the conversation sound like something warmer than it had just a couple of moments ago. It made it feel like family.
“I also realized that I was never going to change,” Jack continued. “I was pretty comfortable with the way I lived my life, so I decided it was best for me to stay away. Your old man never argued with that. I was single and had no one to look out for but myself. He had a pretty wife and a kid on the way. He didn’t need me around causing him any grief.” Jack got quiet and a sadness swirled on the porch like a miniature twister between them. Will shooed it away in his mind. He realized he felt less lonely. The ache in his chest had dulled — not much, but some.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” he said. “I don’t really know anybody in there other than Nana and a few guys my dad worked with. I think you’re maybe the only person here that isn’t looking at me like I’m on suicide watch. If one more person asks me if I’m okay, I think I’m gonna scream — or puke.”
Jack smiled, and it made him look more like Will’s dad than ever. He put his arm around the boy again. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear, because although I love your mama and all, I know she hates me and can’t wait for me to get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I wouldn’t say she hates you.”
Jack raised one eyebrow — another mannerism that echoed Will’s dad. He looked back toward the front door where Will’s mother had been standing for who knew how long.
“Are you okay?” she said. The question was for Will, but her blistering stare was all for Jack.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m fine.”
She stood with her hands on her hips for a moment while she made that decision for herself and then finally backed away into the house. Will knew even if he couldn’t see her, she’d stay within earshot of him and Jack. Jack seemed to know it too. They began to speak more softly.
“Okay, she hates you.”
“Told you.”
“But she’s feeling no pain right now, so I think you’re safe.”
“Well, to be completely honest, kiddo, no disrespect, but I don’t care what your mama thinks of me. I didn’t come here for her. I came here for your dad — and for you.”
“Why me? I don’t even know you.”
“And that’s sort of the point,” Jack said. “I know I haven’t been the greatest uncle to you and you’ve got no reason in the world to put any stock in anything I say, but it’s important to me that you understand something.”
“What’s that?”
“I loved your father. I did. And I didn’t tell him that enough while he was alive. I never thanked him for anything he did for me or told him how much he meant to me. Now he’s gone, and I can’t. That’s on me. I’ve got to live with it, and so I don’t want to screw up and do the same thing twice.”
Will didn’t know what to say. Stupidly, he just nodded.
“William, listen. From this moment on, as cheesy as this may sound, I will never be more than a phone call away. My brother was the best man I’ve ever known, and my bet is that you’re going to turn out to be just like him. I want to be around to see that. I need to see that. I guess I’m saying that anything you need, Will, anytime you need it, from anywhere you are, I got your six.”