he said. “But really, it’s such a firm decision. Is there some specific reason? That might help me to get it and not take it personally.”
She sighed. “Ugly divorce. Divorce scars. Now do you get it?”
He shrugged. “Well, of course. But I’ve never heard of a nice divorce. I haven’t heard of anyone singing happy tunes after one, either.”
“Lucky you. You haven’t had the experience,” she said.
“I haven’t been divorced, no. I’ve had a couple of breakups and I agree they’re very tough. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I might’ve known that was going to end badly. Eventually I just moved on.” He drank some beer. “I guess you’re not there yet.”
Rob came out of the kitchen carrying Dakota’s lunch.
“Hey, Dakota. How’s it going?”
“Excellent, Rob. How are you?”
Before he could answer, Sid interrupted. “Rob, did you know Dakota is one of those Joneses? Cal, Maggie, Sierra, and by association Sully, Connie and there may be more.”
“Sure,” Rob said. “You didn’t know that?”
“Did you know the Joneses are named after states, cities and mountains?”
“I don’t know if I realized that,” Rob said. “Enjoy your burger. That’s Sid’s favorite.” Then he turned and was gone.
Dakota took a big bite. He chewed and swallowed. “Your brother likes me,” he said.
“It’s not going to do you any good,” she replied.
* * *
Dakota fell into a very uneventful, satisfying routine. He worked three long days a week and had Sunday through Wednesday off. He started at the crack of dawn, punching in at 5:00 a.m. and out at 3:00 p.m. They told him over the summer he might be able to pick up one more day and additional benefits, but he wasn’t too worried. He had the VA and a sister-in-law who was a doctor. There was still plenty of time in that schedule for him to help Sully and he managed to have dinner at the bar and grill at least two nights a week. He saw Cal and Sierra now and then, hung out with Sully sometimes, and although Tom didn’t have all that much time to spare, they managed to have a beer at Sully’s twice.
April was bringing the first blooms and campers, and the blossoming of his new friendship with Sully. First Sierra and now Dakota found in him the sane, philosophical and comical father they hadn’t had. For Dakota it started when he told Sully, “I guess you know we grew up picking vegetables with other migrant workers, living in a bus and getting no proper education.”
“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why that worked,” Sully said, scratching his mostly bald head.
“It didn’t work,” Dakota said. “It was awful.”
“And yet look at the lot of you,” Sully said. “You all turned out good. You didn’t just survive it, you aced it. But offering a manual on child raising that suggested that kind of upbringing as a way of creating a success...” He shook his head.
“It’s well-known that some lucky bastard will always rise out of poverty and ignorance and, in spite of hard times, make something of himself...”
“I know this,” Sully said. “A kid here, a kid there, escapes a poor, uneducated family and makes good. But the Jones clan? Near as I can tell—there were four of you and all four of you not only survived, but excelled.”
“Dumb luck, I guess,” Dakota said.
“There was some nurturing there,” Sully said. “Your mother, maybe your father on his better days, each other. Somehow it happened. I couldn’t have done it.”
Dakota laughed. “No, you couldn’t. Your daughter is Maggie!”
“Oh, I don’t take any credit for Maggie,” Sully said. “Her mother and stepfather raised her. Maggie’s mother left me when she was just small, took her away. I had failed them, see. Not that Phoebe, my ex-wife, was any treasure, mind you. We’re cordial now on account of Maggie, but it’s no secret we’d sooner live on different planets. She’s a giant pain in the ass. Her husband, Walter, a gentleman to the bone, not only puts up with her, he puts up with her generously. He’s a saint.”
Dakota chuckled. He’d heard from both Maggie and Cal that this Phoebe was annoying. “And you didn’t remarry?” he asked Sully.
“Why tempt fate?” Sully said. “Proved the first time I had no judgment where women were concerned. I met her and married her in less time than it takes paint to dry. That’s a clue.”
“But don’t you sometimes get...a little...lonely?”
“Did I say I’d never crossed paths with a woman? Even this old man can tell you, sometimes just being around a woman makes certain things better. Don’t go telling Maggie I said that. She’ll try to picture it in her head and get all riled up. But I’ve been friendly with women over the years. It’s a wise man who knows his limitations, son. Remember that.”
“I will,” Dakota said. But he couldn’t help but laugh.
He vowed to remember that. But he continued to go to the bar for two or three dinners a week. When Sid saw him coming, she gave a half smile and shook her head. She realized he was relentless. He liked her. And he could tell one of the problems she was having right now was that she also liked him. Well, maybe he shouldn’t go that far. She enjoyed him. Whatever the husband had done must have been so devious she was afraid that lurking beneath the surface of every good guy was a monster. Why else was the idea of even a cup of coffee such a terrible notion?
But Dakota was patient. He spent the month of April settling into the world of trash hauling. The first couple of weeks he hung on the side of the truck and picked up scattered refuse while a man named Lawrence drove and dumped the buckets. Lawrence was forty-seven but looked much older. His hair was going white; he had a wife and six kids. When he talked about his wife, everything came with an appreciative laugh and a headshake. “Ooh-wee, Benita made some of the best taco pie this man ever had!” Or, “Damn me, that woman got her fist on those boys o’ mine and they don’t dare talk back at their mama!” In short, Lawrence had a good, normal, happy life with all the usual problems. Dakota wanted to work with Lawrence forever. But he really wanted to drive. “You get to do that soon enough, boy,” Lawrence said.
April was full of rain and flowers. Hauling trash in the rain was just the same but wetter. But as the days passed, Dakota thought Sid might be softening up toward him, just a little bit.
The most extraordinary thing in the world
is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman
and their ordinary children.
—GILBERT K. CHESTERTON
TOM CANADAY WAS a happy man in general, always upbeat and positive even when times were challenging. It was his nature. His father
