Tell you what,” Jessup says, easing into the booth next to his sister. “Special occasion. We’re celebrating your daddy coming home.” He’s still got the two twenties in his hand from the cash machine, but they aren’t needed with Earl’s money. Instead of putting the bills on the table and offering to treat, he stuffs them into the pocket of his jeans. David John is watching him, so Jessup gives a nod, but there’s something changed about his stepfather and Jessup can’t read it.
He slides all the way across, into his sister, bumping her friendly with his hip. “You get a shake and I’ll get a malt, and we can share.” Jewel smiles broadly and Jessup looks more closely. “You finally lost that tooth.”
Jewel rolls her lips up and thrusts her face toward him so that he can get a good look at the gap. “Wiggled it out during the third quarter.”
He rolls his eyes back and sticks out his tongue so that she giggles. “Come on, now,” he says. “Nobody here wants to see your gross, bloody gums. Put your lips back down.”
David John slaps his hand on the table lightly. “I’ll tell you, Jessup, your mom said you’d gotten big, and I knew you’d turned into quite a player, but whoa. You were something else on that field. You done good, kid. That hit right before halftime.” Something that sounds like a laugh seems to catch in his throat. “Knocked that kid so hard you got him throwing up. Bet he wished he’d stayed home tonight. Taught him a lesson for sure.”
Jessup wonders what David John would say if he told him about Corson confronting him in the parking lot after the game. He knows what David John’s brother would say. Even if Jessup hasn’t gone to church since Ricky killed those boys, his mother keeps trying to get him to go, tells him about what Earl’s been preaching. A big one is standing up for yourself, about how the only way to protect yourself from savagery is to stand your ground. At church, Ricky and David John are held up as heroes. Stand for your race or you stand for nothing.
David John has his arm around Jessup’s mother’s shoulder, and she’s leaning into him like all she wants is for them to be one person. Four years, Jessup thinks. Four years they’ve been apart. He doesn’t want it in his head, but he knows it’s been a long time for the two of them, and the walls are thin in the trailer. Jewel can sleep through anything, but Jessup’s glad he’ll be out late tonight. He doesn’t like sleeping with his headphones on.
They order burgers and fries and shakes and malts, his mom and stepfather sharing an order. David John talks about how things are going to be now that he’s home. He’s already got a couple of plumbing jobs lined up. Old customers who can see past his time in jail and congregants from the Blessed Church of the White America who will pay cash. “It’ll take a while to get up and rolling full speed again,” David John says, “but things will be back to normal soon enough.”
Not for Ricky, Jessup thinks, but he doesn’t say it.
“Monday I’ll start working. Got some good leads. Going to have to sort through my tools. Cindy said you’ve got everything out in the shed?” Jessup nods. “Well then, that’s good. But tomorrow, well, tomorrow I think we all need to go out for some ice cream as a family. What do you think about that, darling?” he says, winking at Jewel. “And Cindy, how about some fried chicken for dinner? In the afternoon, Jessup, you can take the recliner and I’ll cuddle up on the couch with my two girls and watch some college football. And just so you all can plan ahead, know that if you want to take a shower, you best get started early, because I’m aiming to use up all of the hot water. I’m going to take a shower so long that you’ll start to worry I’ve pruned up into nothing. Jessup—”
“I’m hunting in the morning,” Jessup says. It comes out quicker than he expected, but if David John minds having his words stepped on, he doesn’t show it.
“Hunting?”
“Deer hunting. Freezer’s empty. And I’m working tomorrow afternoon and night. Two to eight.”
The waitress has delivered their drinks, so Jewel is going at her shake already. His mom can’t seem to stop herself from smiling, but David John is looking at Jessup evenly. Not angry, not happy. Just figuring things out. There’s a blankness there.
For a second Jessup feels like a little kid again. “Sorry,” he blurts out. “Wasn’t thinking. Should have gotten out of work this weekend so I could have been at home.”
David John shakes his head, but the blankness is gone. He’s smiling now. “Nope. I’m proud of you, Jessup. Most kids your age, they work, that money goes into buying a new phone or making their car shiny or new clothes or whatever, but your mom’s been telling me how you’ve been pitching in.” Jessup can feel the crumpled bills in his pocket, pushing against his wallet. “You did good. We ain’t welfare queens in some ghetto. We’re good country people and we work for what we get. I’m sorry that things have been hard the last couple of years, but what’s past is past. I’m here now. What you earn is yours from now on out, Jessup. You’re a teenager, and you should have a chance to act like one. You spend that money on something fun. You and Wyatt should get yourselves up to a little trouble. You got that?”
“Yes, sir,” Jessup says.
“And Sunday,” David John says. “You’ll be coming to church?”
It sounds like a question, but it isn’t a question.
The waitress brings the burgers to the table. David John reaches out to take his wife’s hand and Jessup’s hand, Jessup reaching for Jewel, Jewel for their mother, the four of them linked in an unbroken circle.
“Dear Jesus,” David John says. Jessup bows his head and closes his eyes.