Chapter 2

The coaching staff watches YouTube highlights for the next opponent when the bus parks close to the locker room, and the team carries their gear and equipment. There's a gentle breeze, and the team secures the locker room before they head out to their vehicles. Those who don't jump into the back of pickup trucks and head out to Cowboy Lake near the Northwestern edge of the city. The headlights from all the cars, trucks, and SUVs never curve much during the drive since most roads are straight but riddled with potholes. Clarke has Hector in his car, but instead of sitting and yelling out the window, Hector removes the sunroof before they leave the parking lot. He's hooting and howling with his arms stretched out and other football team members honking.

"Wooh! I feel so alive!" Hector screams right before he slips back into the passenger seat, nearly gagging.

Already aware of Hector's gagging and coughing, Clarke can't help but laugh, "You swallowed a bug, didn't you?"

Nodding yes, Hector appears like he's about to vomit with his face turned completely red, and he holds his stomach, "No! Don't you dare puke in my car! Lettme pull over!" Clarke screams, locking up the brakes as they slide to a halt.

Hector barely pokes his head out of the window before the first taste of puke spews out of his mouth. He hacks and gags for a few more minutes before taking a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his mouth, "I think I swallowed a stink bug. Ugh, I felt the creepy, crawly little bastard stuck in the back of my throat, wait," Hector mentions, then pukes again, imagining the small gray and spotted bug crawling around the back of his throat."

"It's all good. I think I'm puked out!" he mentions, hanging over the side of the door and staring at the dust-riddled pavement.

Clarke shifts back into Drive, listening to his best friend's voice go scratchy. Hector moans and groans, but when they finish driving over the speedbumps, the light from the bond fire started at the parking lot end of the lake draws their attention as the music grows louder the closer they get.

"I'll say this much about this shithole. We do know how to throw a party after a game." Clarke mentions struggling to keep his eyes on the crowd and nearby cars.

It isn't long before they're out with the rest of the team to enjoy seeing their classmates act like idiots after ingesting too much alcohol and having a rough house in the lake. Clarke notices over by the picnic pavilion several people are dancing. The one he notices more than any other is the girl he's had a crush on since he was thirteen years old, Tracy Wilcox. She's one of the most beautiful young women at Brighton High, but she's made it well known she isn't into dating or fucking around with boys. The five-foot-nine tall beauty has a dark tan, petite, naturally curly chestnut with blond streaks of hair halfway down her back, and her beauty has been the top bet for almost every horny male under eighteen in Brighton. Tracy has always been the girl Clarke would never admit to wanting to be with since his dream is lightyears away from hers.

"Clarke! Yo, planet Earth to Clarke Harbor, go dance with her man," Hector suggests, nudging against Clarke's shoulder, "Ya can't fool me, amigo, now scat before I do something to embarrass yo'r ass, man."

Snapped back to reality, Clarke doesn't hesitate to get one up on Hector, "You mean like swallowing a stink bug or the time you tried showing off and split your shorts in front of the flag team?"

"Ah man, shut that mouth and go get ya groove on. I have it on good authority that Miss Thang over there ain't about to turn you down."

Uneasy about listening to Hector, Clarke gets a few yards away and then looks back at Hector. He's noticed that Hector's changed his appearance by sliding his cap backward and hiking up part of his running pants to below the knee to appear more gangster with how he carries himself. Clarke gets a slight snicker, then proceeds to the dance party, where he slowly works himself into a rhythm, trying to make it over to Tracy.

It's not until the 2Pac song, California Love, ends and the bond fire gets fueled that Tracy notices Clarke trying to get closer. When Shakira starts to play, Tracy wiggles her hips and turns to Clarke, motioning him to come to her. He can't take his eyes off her; the sight of the cut-off shirt and booty shorts with a shimmering belly chain has Clarke feeling jittery. Tracy takes him by the arm when Clarke's within reach, drawing him close as the crowd rumbles, seeing them together. Tracy puts the moves on with her lightly sweaty back against Clarke's torso and works her way down to a bent position, then back up, making him feel like he's on cloud nine, dancing with the hottest woman on the planet.

Moving to the next song, Tracy's feeling the heat from the fire nearby. She takes Clarke by the arm to get something to drink. She takes out a bottle of water for herself and asks Clarke what he wants.

"Um, I'm good with a Coke or something." Clarke manages to get out, bumbling over his words.

"Clarke Harbor. We've known each other since we were in kindergarten. Why are you so skittish around me all of a sudden? You're one of the best players and smartest guys at school. Do I make you nervous?" Tracy asks and winks at Clarke when she tosses him a can of Coca-Cola.

"Thanks. However, ya know, you're hot," Clarke admits.

Tracy hears a slapping noise after Clarke pops his hand over his mouth.

Between the music and background noise, Clarke barely hears Tracy laugh. The glow of the fire flickers around them. There's someone in the crowd that's recorded their dancing. Someone who also has a secret long-hidden crush on Tracy, and he plans to come between her and Clarke should anything happen.

Hector's seen hanging out with other Hispanic students. He looks back and sees Clarke and Tracy talking. He smiles and then proceeds to return to conversations in Spanish, talking trash about most of the white people they can't stand.

Finished with their drinks, Clarke takes the bottle and can, throwing them in the faded red metal trash can. With Tracy right behind him, staring at him hard, he's caught off guard, "Um, is there something I should know?" He asks.

"Oh yeah! I've never noticed before, but you have a nice ass. God dang, I bet I could bounce quarters off that hard surface. I like what I see," Tracy says, knowing she's embarrassing Clarke, "So, how about this. We head back to the dance area and have fun until we can't dance anymore."

"Fucking A-right! Let's have some fun." Clarke replies, taking Tracy by the hand and walking across the gravel path to the middle of the dance area, where the fun continues.

Slowly the fire begins to die, but the orange and yellow glow is replaced with KC lights from the tops of various trucks at different heights. The shine is shared between those by the cold water, the walking path, and the dance area, so the party doesn't lose momentum until a little after one o'clock. Finally, the Sheriff and several deputies arrive to break up the gathering.

Behind the bright LED spotlights, the blue and white lights on top of the cruisers can barely be seen, "Alright, kids, you've been out here long enough. Time to get home. Drive safe, or we will arrest you," the Sheriff announces through the loudspeaker on his cruiser and sits in his SUV until the fire is doused with dirt and sand kicked on it to cover the embers.

"C'mon now, y'all, scat or else! You have three minutes to move on home before I lose my patience." The Sheriff states.

Before Clarke can meet up with Hector at his car, Tracy takes his hand, "Hey. I had fun tonight. So," she pauses to make him wait, "So, don't be a stranger and call me. My number's on my Facebook profile. Bye, sweetness."

"I'll do that, but don't ignore me when I call. Bye, beautiful," Clarke says, walking away without looking back at Tracy.

Over at his Cougar, Hector's mouth barely gaps open, seeing the exchange between Clarke and Tracy.

"Damn, son, did you just do the talk and walk away move? That's ballsy! Go, Clarke, go, Clarke!" Hector teases, dancing in place with his hands clutched at his chest, bouncing them like playing with breasts.

"Shut the hell up and get in my car," Clarke tells him while they laugh and pull away.

As the early morning wind whips into the sports coupe, the sound of music reminds the world that Clarke and Hector can't sing to save their lives. Unaware they're being followed, Tracy has the top down on her dark silver Pontiac Solstice. Over the wind whipping her hair everywhere, she hears the out-of-tune singing and keeps a smile thanks to the free entertainment. They pull away from the road leading to Cowboy Lake and part ways on South Katy Road.

Pulled up along the curb, Hector is shocked to see his uncle has returned.

"This can't be good. That's my uncle's station wagon in front of us. Oh God, I hope everything is okay with my sisters or mom and dad," Hector says, feeling his heart beating hard and fast."

"Dude, do you need me to follow you up?" Clarke offers, ready to head up.

Hector shakes his head 'no,' knowing Clarke takes a chance at getting shot since most drug runners hang out in the hallways at night, and Clarke's skin color is enough to make them uncomfortable, "Not a chance! I ain't gonna be the reason you get shot. Go home; I'll hit ya up tomorrow, or well, later today. Peace, amigo." Hector states, with his voice being shaky.

"Rodge that, call me if you need anything, and I mean 'anything' at all."

A fist bump exchange sends Hector inside, where he's instantly met with dealers calling out to him in Spanish as insults echo out to Clarke until the heavy security door slams shut. Clarke gives it a moment to see Hector's apartment light come on before pulling away.

Driving down South Katy, Clarke turns onto West Pine Street and sees the street is empty, with only a few street lamps illuminating the way to Old Dallas Road, where he turns to make his way home. Parked in the driveway, Clarke cranks the windows up and hears screaming from inside the house when he shuts the door to his Cougar.

"GET OUT!" Daisy, his mother screams, nose to nose with Wade.

Shoving her back, Wade draws his fist back, "Make me, you nasty ass whore! How many other men are you fucking behind my back?"

Slapping Wade's face, Daisy uses her momentum to leave a glowing red mark, "Not as many as the hookers you've fucked at that Bate's looking motel you've been living at, you piece of shit. Get out of my house before I have you arrested!"

In a drunken rage, Wade rushes Daisy, sending her head through the wall with dust and pieces of plaster falling to the hardwood floor, "Don't ever hit me, you stupid bitch."

Feeling something under her nose and breathing hard, Daisy feels something warm and thick. She places her finger there to discover some blood. She screams and gets back to her feet, shoving her hands into Wade's face and pushing him against the kitchen table, "I'll fucking kill you for this!" she screams with blood covering her lips and chin.

"Get off my mom!" Clarke cries out when he sees Wade take Daisy by the wrists before kicking her in the stomach, sending her tumbling to the floor.

Clarke charges and jumps over the table onto Wade's back, but the force helps Wade escape Clarke's grip and drops a knee into his ribs as he punches Clarke in the face with his other hand choking him. Daisy sees her son being assaulted and returns to her feet to stop Wade from beating her son, "ASSHOLE!" She shrieks, yanking Wade by the hair and trying to drag him away from Clarke.

Not long after Daisy drags Wade away, deputies enter the front door to break up the commotion that was called in by a neighbor. They see Daisy, a lightweight, five-foot-six, ash brown hair woman trying to rip the hair out of Wade. The only female deputy rushes over to pull her off her husband so they can begin their investigation.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! That's enough! What's the reason for all of the brawling?" The dark skin female deputy stands between the combatants.

Daisy doesn't waste time explaining her side of the altercation, "Ma'am, I told my husband he needs to go not too long ago, and he refuses to go. I had him served with separation papers. So, he shows up here drunk. I'm fed up with his cheating, lying, and drinking. I'm afraid for my children, especially my two younger girls, that he may hurt them or rape and kill them. He has a DVP against him, and you can see why. Look at my son and my wall. That sorry rat bastard shoved my face through the wall and busted my nose."

The trail of blood splashed on the floor is consistent with Daisy's story, and the deputy orders EMS to arrive at the scene. She looks at Wade and asks his version of events, "Sir, what do you have for yourself, and what's happened here?"

"Miss, I ain't going to lie and say things are purdy right now because I'd be lying through my teeth," Wade begins, "But, if you haven't noticed my face, I'm a bigwig at City Hall. I'm Wade Snyder, and I'm the head financial advisor."

The lady deputy isn't familiar with him, "Sorry, sir, your name doesn't ring a bell. I'm Sharon Teller. I'm the transfer from Abilene. Apologies for meeting under these circumstances. Sir, I'm going to ask you to turn around and place your hands behind your back. Mr. Snyder, you're only being detained for now until we get this sorted out and I verify the DVP order." Deputy Sharon Teller orders, going for her handcuffs.

"Oh, you have such soft hands, deputy, and that perfume, what fragrance is that?" Wade says, trying to flirt to get his way, "Is that Chanel I smell? I bet you get freaky with these cuffs at home. Am I right?"

"Sir, I'm only going to say this once. If you try to proposition me, I will take you in right now. I am an officer of the law, not some twenty-dollar hooker on a corner. Deputy Honaker, search him for me."

Wade sees Deputy Teller playing hard to get, so he turns his drunken charm up more, "A woman on a power trip, so hot! C'mon, take me to your cruiser and beat me down. I'll be the robber you need to frisk, baby."

It's a mistake that Wade pays for when Deputy Honaker shoves him against the wall to pat him down, "Ugh, be gentle homo, I have a hard-on. If you hurt the power penis, I'll sue!" Wade cries out, groaning in frustration.

"Sir, you were warned about speaking to a law enforcement officer in an unprofessional manner," Deputy Honaker mentions, "He's clean, ma'am.

With Wade being escorted to the cruiser until dispatch verifies the protection order and he's taken off to jail, paramedics arrive, tend to a semi-conscious Clarke, and clean the blood off Daisy's face. Clarke and Daisy are taken by ambulance to Brighton General Hospital, where they're examined, and concussion tests and X-rays are used to rule out any immediate danger. Clarke is cleared, but Daisy is given a pain shot at the base of her skull.

"Ah! Easy Darell! I realize it takes some practice to get it right on the spot, but that smarts!" Daisy expresses, groaning, feeling the needle pierce while trying not to flinch.

"Sorry, Daisy, it's my first time administering this kind of injection," the male nurse states, pushing the pain medicine through the syringe.

Soon they're Ubered back to the house, where Clarke passes out on the couch, and Daisy gets some rest in the recliner, where they sleep until after nine-thirty. The neighbor called authorities when Daisy's two younger girls ran for help. Inside, the battle-torn home shows the scars from the fight. The girls see the hole in the wall with various items scattered everywhere. The seventy-inch flatscreen TV is busted; the glass that held the game systems and cable box lies covered in broken glass.

"Mommy, are you hurt?" Casey, the youngest child, asks. She looks up at her mother, and all Daisy sees is the youngest clone of her late husband with long dark hair and bangs hanging above her eyes.

With tears in her dark brown eyes, Daisy pulls Casey over her knee, "I'm okay, my sweet girl. It's proper for you to ask, and don't worry, Wade is never coming back here. I'm serious this time. I give you my mommy promise."

Casey reaches out, hugging her mother, sobbing at Wade's promise to permanently vanish from their lives.

"I love you, mommy! I love you even more than gummy bears."

That's all it takes for Daisy to break as tears fall from her cheeks. Amber, the middle child, takes after her mother with lighter hair, deep blue eyes, and short style spiky hair in the back and walks over, hugging her mother. Clarke doesn't get the chance as the house phone rings. He sees it's the jail and tosses the phone to his mother, "If he comes back here to live, I'm taking Amber and Casey, and we're leaving. We can't live like this anymore, mom. I swear I will murder him."

Nervous, Daisy answers the phone and accepts the reverse charge, "What do you want?" Daisy motions for the girls to get down and walks back to her bedroom, "If you do, I swear I'll rip your balls off your body!" The children hear her scream, followed by the bedroom door.

Concerned, Clarke motions his sisters to stay as he tiptoes back to the bedroom door, "You do that and ruin my career, and I could lose my pharmacy. A law hasn't been invented to charge me for what I'll do to you. My children are everything to me. Casey is why I was able to buy the pharmacy after he died. You ruin my life, and I will end yours."

Silence falls on the other side of the door. Pressing his ear firmly against the door, Clarke hears his mother begin to sob, "Fine. I won't press any charges, but I can't control what Clarke will do."

Unable to listen any further, Clarke barges into the bedroom, taking the phone from his mother, "Listen here, you son of a bitch. I will have you arrested if you ever come back to this house. I won't let you hurt my family."

Clarke's cut off when Wade interjects, "Oh, like how you failed last night. I loved how I beat the ugly off your face. I'm coming back, but I'm getting my stuff and moving on from your whore of a mother, but if you press charges against me and she doesn't drop the DVP, I will kill you all. I'll gut you, rape your mother, hang your sisters, and not leave a trail leading back to me."

The line goes dead, and Clarke hangs up the phone, dropping it on the bed, "I'm not dropping charges. I'm going down to file charges right now. I've had it with his dumbass. No matter what it costs, I'm sending him to jail."

"Clarke, don't!" Daisy tells him, "I can't tell you why but he's held something over me, which is why he's still here. Please trust me when I say don't do it."

Without reason, Clarke looks at his mother with a cold stare she's never seen, "Fuck you, I'm not putting up with this shit any longer. You married one of the worst guys on the planet. He beats you, mom, degrades all of us, and you bent over and asked him to fuck you in the ass with no lube. I don't care what he has on you. I mean it when I say I will kill him."

Without a chance to collect her thoughts, Daisy sits on the king-size bed with a lost glare in her eyes. Clarke doesn't waste time picking up his keys and slams the bright blue front door shut, shaking the pictures on the wall. Amber and Casey look at each other and retreat to their bedroom. Amber takes Casey's favorite movie and slides it into the DVD player. Casey sits on the multi-colored rug on the floor, feeling scared the family is falling apart.

Clarke arrives at Hector's but sees the station wagon is gone, so he doesn't bother getting out of the car, fearing someone will get the wrong idea with bloodstains on his shirt. Clarke pulls away to head to Family Dollar on the corner of West Birch Street and goes inside, buying a pack of plain black t-shirts and throwing them on after a few steps walking out of the store. Before he can toss in the bloodstained shirt, Clarke looks over to see Hector's uncle's station wagon over at 7/11, which is when he checks to make sure it's clear before he dashes across the way.

Inside the air-conditioned store, the sound of the radio rings out with static through the outdated, yellow brick interior and grimy stained tile floor. Over at the cooler, Clarke selects his favorite coconut-flavored water. He turns to see Hector is busy with a couple waiting for him to ring up a package of grape cigarillos. They exchange some small talk, but Hector sees Clarke standing there with his black eye and bruising on his cheek when the couple head outside.

"Nah, amigo, I know you didn't get yo'r ass handed to you by that worthless POS," Hector says as Clarke walks to the register.

Trying to find the best response, Clarke stands there, shrugging his shoulders, "Everyone loses, but he's in jail, and I'm going to press charges. I saw you were here. So, I thought I'd drop in to say hey, so 'hey,' and what time do you get off? I think I'm going to crash at your place tonight. Oh, and what did your uncle want?"

"Be there at three on the dot. And my uncle came back to lend me my aunt's ride. I ain't gotta set of wheels, so he wanted to make sure I'm covered for everything. It's nice to have someone looking out for me."

"Cool deal. Anywho, here's what I want; ring it up, sir," Clarke says with exhaustion beginning to settle in his voice.

Hector rings the water up, but before Clarke can take out his wallet, Hector takes his debit card and swipes it, "It's on me this time. You're like my brother, and here," Hector pauses long enough to toss Clarke his keys, "Take Nara's spare key and go crash for a bit after you send Wade to jail. You look beat, and not in a good way."

It's the first time Clarke's laughed since leaving the party at Cowboy Lake. He takes the Hello Kitty pink spare key and slips it in his pocket, "Thanks, man. I can order pizzas later or something if you want," Clarke mentions before he covers his mouth, yawning.

"Nah, I got us covered. Now get lost and get ya business handled so you don't risk falling asleep behind the wheel."

Clarke and Hector exchange a fist bump, but Clarke is temporarily blinded when walking out into the sunlight. His hand covers his eyes as he struts over to his car. In the tan cloth seat, Clarke sits there to get a couple of sips of his flavored water and proceeds to the Sheriff's office to fill out the paperwork but learns that his mother beat him to the punch and filled out the reports, naming him as a victim of domestic violence. He's shocked at his mother's decision to take the long-awaited steps to finally kick Wade out of their lives. Relieved to have that responsibility taken out of his hands, Clarke drives to Hector's, uses the key to get inside, and passes out on the couch until Hector arrives home with food.

"Knock, knock, I'm home bitch! You best be wearing that tight little number that shows off those impeccable abs and that sweet tight ass!" Hector teases.

Clarke pulls himself up as his feet hit the concrete floor and catches a whiff of Texas Chili Dogs and cheese and bacon-smothered fries from Dewey's Hotdog Stand right beside the Family Dollar store, "Oh hell, you're too good to me, sweetie!" Clarke teases back.

"For what I dished out for this meal, I best get a thank you kiss or get some later," Hector continues the teasement.

"If it's as good as it smells, I'll bend over the couch and let you have it. Hot dammit, I'm starving!"

Hector nearly drops the food and the gallon of fountain Stewart's Root Beer after Clarke blows him a kiss, "Oh for fuck's sake, you didn't do anything with that hair. Now how am I supposed to get in the mood if you look downright trashy?"

Feeling insulted, Clarke sees it as the way to end their banter, "Then you ain't getting in my pants tonight, little man. I've seen how you've treated others in my position, and I deserve better."

Neither one can help but laugh until tears form. It's a bit painful for Clarke to wipe away the few tears from his black eye, but they manage to calm down and dive into the brown paper bags taking what they want. Hector fills the two Styrofoam cups with root beer, then doesn't say anything until after he rips a massive, deep belch, "My bad! It felt a lot smaller coming up."

"I needed this. I've lived in Hell since my mother brought that pudgy motherfucker home. He's consistently insisting that we're gay, and shit pushed my buttons like nothing else. All the drinking and arguing made life pure Hell."

"And here I thought y'all had it made. My parents always had to keep one eye open for the feds. Now they're stuck in Mexico. My family's been torn apart, too, amigo. I guess not everything inside a nice-looking house doesn't make life peachy."

Clarke sits there thinking of his father, trying not to get choked up, "You're right; it's not always what you would think. Real life isn't like TV; it sucks in reality. Anywho, let's drop this mushy stuff and play a little Xbox, shall we."

"Done!" Hector replies. The rest of the afternoon is spent playing Halo until Clarke decides to go home to talk to his mother.

The humidity rises that evening as Clarke and Hector feel the moisture in the air, with about ten pounds of weight hanging over their bodies.

"Yo, this is where we part for now. We may have to deal with this on the field, but if it's by choice, I'm out. Peace, amigo," Hector says with his fist out for a bump.

With a fist bump exchanged, Clarke walks to his car, where a wave of supercharged heat blasts him when the door opens. The quick heat flash doesn't last more than a few seconds, but the heat built up inside the classic Cougar leaves Clarke needing to stop on the way home for an ice-cold drink from 7/11 from the soda fountain. He is hydrated with a large Mountain Dew Code Red with lite ice, Clarke finishes drinking at home, but he's caught off guard seeing his mother sitting in the front yard on a red and black checked plaid blanket. Clarke notices the blanket is old and partially faded in spots.

"Mom, are you okay?" Clarke asks, seeing her dressed in a black dress and high heels, makeup painted on her face, and a glass of white wine in her hand with a disposable plate next to her, "What's with the second plate and glass of wine?"

Sniffling, Daisy stares vacantly at the only tree in the front yard, "Yes and no," she pauses and blinks as she stares at the tree, "I did it. I took the chance and pressed charges against Wade. He'll be out on bond at some point, but he's out of our lives. Your Uncle Hank and Aunt Peggie came over to pack up his junk and sent it to that cheap motel where he likes to fuck those whores. He's gone, baby, and he'll never return to this house."

His mother's words carry a heavy feeling of guilt in his mind. Clarke kneels close to his mother to console her, "It's for the best, mom. It was a matter of time before he killed any of us, if not all of us. I'm sorry it hurts."

Wiping away a tear with her free hand, Daisy reveals why she's sitting in the perfectly manicured yard, "That's not what's bothering me. I don't like, much less love, that fat pig," she hesitates through a sigh and sniffles again, "Before you were born, your father and I would sit out here on clear, beautiful evenings like this and talk about our dreams. It was on this very blanket where we shared everything. Good and bad days at work or class when we were in college and whatnot. I haven't recognized this place since he died."

Intrigued, Clarke shifts to be in front of his mother, "I never knew that."

"Yeah, he was such a soft and quiet man. God, he loved you kids more than you could ever imagine. Especially because you look exactly like him; you inherited my eyes. Oh, son, how he used to toss you. You'd giggle and laugh with your little arms and legs stretched out. I can see it like it's happening right now." Daisy stops and places her slightly wrinkled hand over her lipstick-painted lips as more tears form and glide down her cheeks.

"It's okay to miss him. I do," Clarke says, beginning to feel his mother's sadness.

As the breeze blows around them, Daisy moves her hand, taking a napkin and handing it to Clarke.

"I don't know how much you remember about him being sick, but he pushed through every once of pain to provide for us while I was beginning at the pharmacy. Mr. Cavianni was in the process of selling it to me, but it didn't wrap up until your dad passed. His life insurance was just enough to cover the cost of his retirement and what we had in our savings. He worked until his last breath to ensure I could provide for you kids."

Traveling through the flashing memories of his father's last days, Clarke had no idea how sick he was around the time he died, "I knew dad wasn't feeling good, but what killed him? I've always tried to tell myself he died from natural causes, but now I need to know."

"You remember he worked for the water treatment plant, right?" As Clarke shakes his head yes, Daisy mentions and watches, "So, he worked with hexavalent chromium. As it turned out, the company wasn't fully aware that the version of that chemical was lethal. Your dad was one of several treatment employees that got cancer and died."

Suddenly Clarke begins to feel angry that his father's death could have potentially been avoided, but Daisy continues with her story, ignoring the crimson glow on Clarke's face.

"However, your father covered his pain and side effects from his pain meds as long as possible. Some nights, he skipped dinner with us to lie in so much pain that he would sleep on the floor to avoid hurting me if he got violent. Anyway, yeah, you lost your father from that. I feel so bad that Casey didn't get to know him at all. Another reason why I named her after your father. But back to the story before we got diverted."

Daisy takes a moment to collect herself and clears her throat, "Before I got pregnant with you, your dad and I would sit out here and enjoy the view and weather. Most evenings like this, I love how the sky lights up that bright cherry shade and the humidity drops, making it comfortable. We'd talk about having kids and what kind of life we wanted."

"Yeah, uh-huh, okay," are all Clarke's responses while his mother continues.

"Oh, the day we found out that you were coming was such a great day. Everyone said that I was glowing, but your father had such a bright aura around him that it would have blocked the stars and moon that night if it was physically visible. On his next day off, he was at Home Depot, preparing everything for your room. All he drank was a mocha latte working on your room. Which is why your bedroom has always been that color. I could sit here for hours telling you how he sang and read to you when I started to show later on. The day he held you, Casey, your dad, cried so hard that God wept with him because all it did for days was rain enough to keep the ground saturated."

Suddenly Clarke feels an incredibly cool and calm energy wave over him and the sensation of a hand on his shoulder, "That gave me chills, mom. I ain't gonna lie," he mentions.

"I still see the two of you out here tossing your little foam football. You were so happy having daddy play with you. Sundays were the best after church. We'd stop by Arby's and get sandwiches and chicken strips so you and your dad would have something to eat while watching the Texans game. I can't even begin to describe how that still makes me feel, and when Amber was coming, the glow around him was that much brighter."

The moment of silence falls as they recall the day Amber was brought home. Clarke was about to start elementary school. Clarke remembers holding Amber in the hospital chair, giggling that he had become a big brother, "It just came back to me the first time I saw and held Amber. I remember dad kneeling on my right side, telling me that it's my job to keep her safe and seeing him wipe away tears."

"Oh yeah, and Casey, she was our miracle pregnancy. Your dad was already sick, but he had one last good day, and well one plus two made three children. What killed me was he died two months before she was born. Like with you and Amber, he sang, read, and told her how much he loved her until his last breath. The last thing he said was how sorry he was, but he'll be around to protect her even if she couldn't see him. He died a happy father," Daisy tells her son, seeing him about to cry.

Daisy wipes away the tears by taking another napkin to Clarke's cheeks, "It's okay to miss him. I do, every day. That's why when I'm home alone, I pull out this old blanket and make our favorite sandwiches to enjoy with the wine we had after we got married. He and the three of you matter the most to me."

"Speaking of that assclown, what does he have on you?"

"That's a subject for another day. Help me clean up and take this stuff inside," Daisy stops and reaches to place her hand on Clarke's cheek, "What does matter is he's gone and never coming back. Being out here, I can see your father in your eyes. You have that same smile and light in your eyes for life. I hope that you love some woman the way he loved me one day."

Stunned, Clarke gets to his feet to help clean up the wine and food while his mother folds the blanket and puts it in a box under her bed. The rest of the evening, Clarke sits on the back deck thinking of his father and revisiting every memory he can draw and feels the same cool wave sensation that came over him while talking to his mother.