GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) (12 page)

He knew what
was happening, and it was more than his heart could bear. With a slight shuffle here and another there, he made the long journey down the hall, holding onto his cup of coffee, praying it wouldn’t slosh about so much that it would fall and shatter as it had the previous day. His mind played cruel tricks on him; he could’ve sworn he saw his grandson praying that morning. He hadn’t seen Zen pray since he was a little boy and he was certain the tyrant didn’t believe in the Creator anymore. Perhaps that was far too harsh… Zen had had a hard go at it. And Hiawatha only asked he’d live to see the day when the young man allowed forgiveness to enter his heart.

On a relieved sigh, he entered his bedroom, or was it someone else’s? He stood there at the doorway, confused and hurting. Setting the coffee down on the nightstand, he looked at the bed out of the corner of his eye. Yes, the quilt looked awfully familiar. He’d watched Denise leave and heard Zen’s keys, the usual nightly exchange. Oddly enough, he hadn’t seen the boy though. Yes, Zen was grown, but he couldn’t help seeing the bright-eyed child he’d once been. He’d hated to see the light go out of the boy’s eyes. It happened after his parents’ deaths, and threatened to never return after he was clued in on the nature of the issue at hand. Zen was hard headed, and then, he became also hard hearted.

He’d never received the confirmation that his grandson was happy,
truly
happy, and that fact always bothered him. Sure, he worked hard and made a decent wage, owned his own home and had a car to get from A to B—but happiness? Zen seemed to see it as a foreign attainment, not fit for him. He reached for his hot mug, and hoped it had cooled down a bit. Taking a faint sip, he struggled to keep the thing steady, only to surprise himself and enjoy it all the more.

“Hmm, this needs some sugar.” He got to his feet and decided to make his way back to the kitchen to grab a few packets of the stuff. He tried to envision where they were… The pantry? The refrigerator? Definitely the pantry… As he journeyed up the hall once again, he couldn’t help but overhear Zen on the phone. That was the only way he knew what the boy was doing and what trouble he may be into. Zen didn’t share these things with him anymore, the nuisances of his life, and it bothered him so. He lingered by the door a wee bit too long, but he simply couldn’t help himself…

“I’m sorry about this too, Mr. Herschel. But I have thought it over and…yes, yes, I know it’s an opportunity of a lifetime… I’ve always dreamed of playing with a band like Pop Evil… I know Leigh feels that way; I do, too… Yes, I’ll never forget our dinner together. I had a great time. This is hard for me. You have no idea… Uh huh, yes, I’m disappointed, too; but my grandfather is sick, like I said…uh huh, I get that, I do… I’m sure I could get quality care for him in Michigan but this is where his life is built. He’s been through a lot, you know?

“Moving him to a totally different state that he is unfamiliar with at his age could be upsetting for him, and it would be unfair. Plus, his only living son is here and his friends, too. Mmm hmmmm, yeah… I wish there was, too. No, actually my girlfriend is unhappy with me right now for not taking this opportunity. Yes, mmm hmm…I’m sorry to have wasted your time… Well, thank you for that, but I apologize just the same…”

Hiawatha couldn’t stomach one more second of it. Bitterness settling within him, he angrily made his way down the hall back to his room, stumbling about as if in a drunken stupor. He tossed the sugar packets onto the floor, no longer thirsty, hungry, sleepy, or concerned. All he felt was heartache, and it suited him just fine. Cool clamminess covered his being, and his soul too, as he fell upon the unmade bed and glared up at the empty, stark ceiling.

I’m the caretaker… not the patient. He’s my grandson… wasting his life away for me. He’s young… his whole life ahead of him…

Yet, darker feelings emerged within him as well; ones he felt sudden shame for.

…But I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to be alone. He’s the only one that cares about me, loves me… My Degan is dead; my bride, Osha, is dead, too… My son, Len, does not care. I’m too old and feeble to help the council now… I forget too much, too fast, too easily. My body is failing me. Yes, my Zen is all I can depend on. Len… no, that is not a possibility. He’s never been responsible, helpful or kind. Zen is my life… Where was he going? Michigan? Who is Pop Evil? Some band perhaps… What a strange name for a band… Was that his dream going up in smoke? It must’ve been… He said he was going out of town; Denise watched over me. Was his dream ruined on account of me? He’s so talented. I bet that’s what this was. That band wanted my grandson… wanted his very special gift…

He swiped at his tired eyes and looked at his fingertips. They glistened from something warm and clear, something that reminded him of rain. Perhaps it was the spring season bringing rain…

“Everything has it’s season. Planting Moon, Moon of the Fallen Leaves, Maple Moon, and Corn Harvest Moon.”

He smiled sadly as he kept staring at the smeared tears on his hand.

I’m a burden. If I could commit suicide, I would…but then, my spirit would be bound to Earth for eternity.

And then, another tear ran down his face, navigating over the creases and lines, determined to make it through. This one, he let live. This one, he didn’t try to erase from existence with the swipe of an age-spotted hand…

Silver looked across
the table, catching Simone’s eye. She crossed her legs, clad in the same suit she’d worn to the fancy, boys’ club type dinner meeting in Michigan. That evening, she’d sat amongst a motley crew of musically inclined derelicts, including the Canadian lead singer who’d killed her with giggles over the way he pronounced some words. It was a bit difficult to concentrate on the good news laid at her feet, though. Zenith was at work. Matter of fact, he told her he’d clocked in early and sent her a text that stated:

I’m not going to Michigan. I’m not going to be a part of Pop Evil. We can talk about it later. Let’s have dinner tomorrow night.

…And that was simply it.

She thought back on what had happened that morning.

Upon receiving the text, she’d promptly left her cubicle, navigating the navy blue carpet with her shiny, black flats, and practically flew to the coffee-smelling break room. Her meeting was scheduled in five minutes, but she was certain she could get the fool back on track in less than four. He picked up on the third ring and had the audacity to sound blasé and lax, as if her call was causing him insurmountable displeasure.

She demanded an explanation, expressed her irritation at him throwing this chance away. An argument ensued, one in which she was told she didn’t understand, that he loved her, and that his decision was final… and then, he hung up.

…and her heart broke on his behalf.

And now here she sat. Because of Zenith, who’d given her the extra push needed, her dreams were materializing right before her eyes. She’d learned of his dirty deed as well. There was an old, beat-up suitcase with some of her work, in resume form. Included in this mish mash collection sat a sheet with her work address scribbled across it in his handwriting, along with her weekly work schedule and Simone’s name scribbled upon it, and spelled incorrectly, in red ink.

The fucker had been up at her job, unbeknown to her. She confronted Simone, and the woman confessed with a nervous chuckle. Nevertheless, Silver’s anger quickly dissipated and she felt nothing but love for the meddling fool. But in that special moment, her thoughts were often distracted by the fact that her desires were materializing while
his
dreams were crumbling like bricks on a rundown building…just like the one they’d torn down in Brooklyn that she loved to loiter around as a child…

Just as she had told Clara, she’d given the true love of her life permission to make a path for himself, and it killed her inside that he wasn’t taking her up on her offer. But one thing she understood, now more than ever, was that love was not selfish. True love, in its purest form, wanted what was best for the object of one’s affection. She couldn’t be happy if her Zenith wasn’t happy; he’d handicap her with his lost dream, whether he intended to or not. Their situation however was far more manageable than Paw’s. A long distance relationship could be established and preserved, and perhaps she could relocate in due time—they’d discussed all of that and then some during their trip to the heart of Michigan, while still living on cloud nine in the midst of snow and elation. But Paw was a different matter…

“And that’s why we’re giving you the contract,” Simone interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the here and now.

“Thank you. I just…” She smiled and shook her head as she swung her foot back and forth like a pendulum. “I’m grateful for the opportunity, you know? Thank you… thank you so much.”

“You deserve it. You will create the game, design it, and help out with the software testing and quality control groups. You’ll be involved in each and every step.”

…Thank you, Zenith.

She smiled down into her lap, recalling his words to her:
‘You’ll hear a thousand ‘No’s’ but you’ll never hear a ‘Yes’ if you never ask.’
She agreed with that, but when she said she’d asked in more ways than one, he replied, ‘
Then stop asking, Silver, and start taking…’

When she left Simone’s office, a sense of relief surrounded her, as well as gloom. She looked down at her cell phone and contemplated calling Zenith back. She sat at her cubicle, twirling the phone around in her hand, then finally set it down.

I’m going to give him a little space, but when I do speak to him, I’m going to remind him that while he is proficient at the grind, works like a damn dog most days, to never reap the rewards is a tremendous loss, a death of sorts. I can’t make him take this chance, but he’s going to know that he is destined for more than working himself to the bone, and it’s time he got to see some of the loot, get the riches, make a better way, a better life… trimmed in silver and gold…

“You’ve had your
say, and I’ve had mine.” Zen exhaled loudly. They were sitting in front of her house. She kept her expression blank.

“Yes.” She sucked her teeth and looked flippantly out the front window of the truck for a moment. “I guess you’re right.”

“I respect what you said, baby, but I have to do what feels right. So at this point, there really is no use to keeping this conversation going. You’ve hollered at me, I’ve hollered at you… I don’t like that, but we got it all out, so just let it go.”

She swallowed and crossed her legs, her lips now twisted in obvious annoyance. Yet, she kept still, quiet—said nothing more. He leaned back in his seat.

“I love you, Silver. You know that, right?”

“Yes. I just wanted better for… never mind.” She shook her head and rubbed her hands together in a nervous gesture.

“I
got
better. Better is you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “No regrets. I believe that if something is supposed to happen, it will, you know? I don’t have to force it. I don’t have to make it work. Just like us.” He pointed to himself and then to her. “We didn’t force this shit; we let it happen. Once we saw what was going on, that we were enjoying each other, missing one another, falling in love—we took care of it, we nurtured it. Nothing about me and you was created by
us
… it was just pure love.” He pulled her towards him in an embrace. She hugged so tight… so long… so strong. He caressed up and down her back and covered her neck in kisses.

“It’s going to be alright, Silver. What’s mine is mine, and somehow, some way, I’ll get what I’m supposed to get, alright? Just like I got you, just like I get everything in my life that is good and helpful and wonderful. Just believe in me, baby… No sacrifices of love are needed; if that is the case, then it’s just not right for me, and I don’t want it…”