Jasper Reed couldn’t believe what had happened just hours ago. Not only had it been humiliating, it had come totally out of the blue. The twenty-one year old was arrested by his own uncle. And for what? Public intoxication. Big fucking deal, he said to himself as he slipped out of the beer-stained snap-button shirt he’d worn to the Green Tree Bar and Grill last night. His favorite Aerosmith t-shirt was dry, warm and familiar, more to the college senior’s liking than the starched long-sleeved shirt he’d yanked out of his closet twelve hours earlier merely to impress the girls in his hometown.
His mother stood in the doorway of his bedroom…glaring. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she said. “Now, everyone in town’s going to know my son’s a derelict.”
“I had too much to drink,” said Jasper. “That doesn’t make me a lowlife.”
“Is this what they teach you at Texas Tech?” she asked. “To be the town drunk?”
“Not at all,” said Jasper. “I come by it naturally. My father had that honor.” He grinned. “And that’s saying a lot in a town with a glut of serious drinkers. Now it’s my turn. Luckily, I had a genetic headstart on the competition.”
“Your father had problems, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior.”
“Tell me about it,” said Jasper. He tapped the toe of his right Addidas sneaker on the wooden floor. His left foot was already cozy in the Dickies socks he’d bought for himself at Target in Lubbock, the most comfortable socks he’d ever owned, the pair his mother thought hideous.
“What did your Uncle Kyle say to you?”
“What could he say? He’s the damned sheriff. He took my wallet and belt, put me into a pukey cell, gave me a dirty look then made me listen to some crappy old-school country music while he dozed at his desk.”
“You’re lucky,” said his mother, “he could’ve roughed you up.” She paused. “I almost wish he had. Maybe that would knock some sense into you.”
“Kyle? Uncle Kyle? That old man wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Someone should knock you around,” said his mother, “I guess I’ve been too lax…and besides, Kyle’s not that old.”
“Mother, I got drunk and a little out of control.” He sighed. “Do we have to make a federal case out of it? It won’t happen again.”
The woman glowered at him, then asked, “I suppose you drink at college?”
“Everyone drinks in college, for crying out loud. Where have you been?”
“How would I know what goes on at some ritzy college. I never got to go.”
“I know, I know. You never had the advantages I’ve had.” Jasper stopped. “I know full well that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done for me. That I’m an ingrate. I know all about it, Mother. I’ve heard it all a thousand times. I screwed up. What do you want me to say?”
“You could start with a simple apology.” She squinted. “Then you could go back to the Green Tree and tell Thomas Murphy you’re sorry. Then you might let your Uncle Kyle know how ashamed you are. If it wasn’t for Kyle you wouldn’t be going to that college. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“Thomas Murphy’s a goddamned bartender,” said Jasper. “I’m sure he’s seen more than his share of dudes who’ve had too much to drink. And Uncle Kyle’s the sheriff. He’s seen worse.”
“Do they teach you to cuss like that in Lubbock?” His mother shook her head. “In front of your mother no less? I didn’t raise you to behave like this.”
“No. You raised me to get good grades and kiss everyone’s ass.” Jasper smirked. “And I do both pretty damned well.”
“I don’t know what’s with you.” His mother shook her head. “Your uncle’s going to come over and talk to you this afternoon. I expect you to listen…and be polite for a change.”
“Mother, he locked me up, for Christ’s sake. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
“Apparently not. I want you to fully appreciate what you’re putting us through.”
“Jesus.”
“That’s enough,” she said. “And you, Mr. Know It All, can stop using the Lord’s name in vain, right this minute. And I don’t want you looking like some kind of no-account when Kyle gets here. Put on a decent shirt and a clean pair of jeans. You might want to take a shower. You smell like a pigsty.”
The sheriff sat, his thick legs spraddled like a bronc rider awaiting his ride, his Stetson on his knee, a smile on his chapped lips. The cushioned rocking chair Jasper’s mother prided herself on discovering at Walmart in San Angelo—for practically nothing—sagged under his weight. The woman sat, legs and arms crossed, on the floral-print sofa, the piece of furniture that was more than a bit ornate for Dos Pesos, Texas. Wisely, the college student was beyond criticizing his mother on her tastes. Why bother? he thought. She’ll never change. In spite of her nose-in-the-air posturing, she’s really nothing more than a big fish in a very small pond.
“So,” said the sheriff, “you and your friends had quite a time of it last night.”
“Things got out of hand,” said Jasper. “What else is there to do in a town that’s got nothing to offer but tumbleweeds and rattlesnakes?” He looked down at the carpeted floor. He liked his uncle. A lot. “But I’m the only one that got arrested. That doesn’t seem fair.”
The lawman chuckled. “Don’t be so sure of that. I got you out of there before the state troopers arrived. If I hadn’t, they would’ve run you into Ft. Stockton. You were better off spending the night right here in the Contreras County jail with me.”
Jasper leaned forward in the wingback chair across the room from his uncle. “Arturo and Joey got arrested?”
“Even more so than you,” said the sheriff.
“See,” said Jasper’s mother, “I told you your uncle was only looking out for you. You should thank him. But, no, not you. You think you know everything.”
The sheriff grimaced. “Cora Beth, maybe it would be best if I talked to the boy in private. Could you get me a cup of coffee?” He winked at Jasper.
“Don’t you dare let him off the hook,” said Jasper’s mother. “Not only is he a public nuisance, but he’s become rude to his own mother.”
Mrs. Reed bustled out of the room, but only after she gave her son the evil eye.
“Pay no attention to your mother,” said the sheriff. “She’s just worried. She cares about you.”
“What’s going to happen to Arturo and Joey?” asked Jasper.
“That’s up to those state troopers and the owner of the Green Tree,” said the sheriff. He tilted his head then nodded. “You fellas raised quite a ruckus. Tom Murphy’s a pretty decent guy. He’ll try to smooth things over with his boss.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re damned lucky Tom was bartending. If Sam Bricker was behind the bar you’d be wishin’ you’d never been born. You boys broke a mirror and busted up a damned table. You’re gonna have to pay for the damages.”
“I don’t remember any of it.”
“I ain’t surprised. You were pretty zonked when I escorted you outta there.”
“Uncle Kyle, we were only drinking beer. With a shot or two of tequila.”
“That’ll do it.”
“My mother thinks I’m going to turn out like my father.”
The sheriff shook his head. “Oren Reed was my younger brother,” he said. “He had a wild side to him. I don’t see that in you. And he could display a mean streak whenever the mood hit him. You messed up. That don’t make you anything like Oren. Your mother only wants what’s best for you. That’s all. That’s her job. My brother put that poor woman through hell. You were too young to remember any of that.”
“I took a psychology class last semester,” said Jasper, “alcoholism and depression can be inherited.” Jasper blinked.
Kyle Reed laughed. “Maybe so. I don’t know about that kinda thing. I just don’t see it in you. I saw it in Oren. Everyone did. That son of a bitch could be downright nuts. He drove my mother to bein’ the way she is. I know damn well what folks say about your grandma. And they’re right. She can be a pistol, but there ain’t no meanness…or craziness in you. And you don’t talk all wacky like Oren did. You’ve just gotta watch your p’s and q’s. And to not mix your beer with tequila.” He shook his head. “Come to think of it, you might want to stay clear of Arturo and Joey while you’re home. Those two boys ain’t nothin’ but trouble.”
“I remember my father,” said the student.
“You were just a boy when it happened,” said the sheriff. “Shucks, you must’ve been five, maybe six?”
“I was six,” said Jasper. “But I remember that night pretty damned well. We were in this very room when he locked us in and had that standoff with you and your deputies.” He paused. “My mother was crying. I guess I was too, but I had no idea what was going on until he put that thirty-eight to his head. I think I pissed my pants. I don’t remember. He was standing on that chair over there with that damned gun in his hand and that rope around his neck. He was calling my mother names and cussing about you.”
“That gun weren’t loaded. And if he’d hung himself he woulda brought that danged light fixture down on.” The uncle grinned. “It was more of a plea for help than anything. Once he got into that hospital in Big Spring he started gettin’ better. It’s a shame he didn’t live longer than he did. He was just startin’ to turn his life around up there in Odessa.”
“You were the one who talked him down that night, Uncle Kyle. You sat in that same chair you’re sitting in now. You were so damned calm.”
“Like I said, he wasn’t out to do no one no harm. Other than himself.”
Jasper grimaced. “He scared the crap out of me.”
“And your mother.”
“Did the army do that to him? He was in Afghanistan when I was born. Mother said they messed him up.”
The sheriff took a deep breath. “There ain’t no tellin’ what happened to Oren. He was a pretty good kid.” He winced. “Sometimes these things just happen.”
Alone in the living room Jasper couldn’t decide whether or not to face the music and head over to the Green Tree Bar and Grill to make his peace with Thomas Murphy or to wait a spell. He pulled his mother’s photo album from the bookcase beside his chair. Old photographs fascinated him. They always had.
There were pictures of his Grandmother Reed holding him as a baby. A snapshot of his mother, pregnant, sitting beside Uncle Kyle, on a picnic somewhere, most likely Big Bend. Another shot of his father in uniform. His mother’s mother held him as an infant with his mother looking on in another. Grandma Baker, Jasper thought. I hardly remember her. She died when I was four. Another of his mother, with Kyle, a young woman with long hair, the future sheriff’s arm around her, as if they were out on a date. Mother was so young, murmured Jasper. And pretty. Kyle had a full head of hair and a flat belly. Jasper wished there were more of his father. His favorite was of the heavy drinking man with four other soldiers, probably taken in Afghanistan, before the man ever laid eyes on his only child, years before that night. His father had that faraway look that Jasper remembered all too well. Everyone seemed so happy back then. Everyone but his father.