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Coal
Walking up to the car rental counter, I ask for any available SUV or all-wheel drive vehicle. The girl takes in my six-two frame and smiles. I smile back. I know I look good, but she does nothing for me. She’s cute but in an overdone way. She’s made up like she’s going clubbing instead of working at an airport. Her uniform is standard car rental attire, but I can tell the manager has left for the day because the girl has undone quite a few buttons, exposing the tops of her breasts.
“I can show you to the local hotel.” She offers as I sign the contract.
“Thank you, but I’m heading out of town.” I slide the contract back, and she folds up my copies and slips them in an envelope. I watch as she writes the car information on the outside, but it’s the phone number with hearts that causes me to grit my teeth.
“Well, if you change your mind…” She taps the phone number as she explains where the car is parked and the rules to refill it before returning it. I smile and turn away, pulling my duffle over my shoulder. I head for the exit hating that I’m back here again. Granted, Louisville isn’t my final destination, but it’s close enough to my home.
Fuck, home.
I haven’t thought about that word in eight years. I work, then I go to a small apartment I inhabit. But it isn’t a home. There’s a bed, a kitchen, TV, and my workout bench. I spend more time on base in the gym, or volunteering for every mission I can get on. Yeah, I could have stayed in the barracks, but I needed to get away from other people. I wanted my own space. No, I needed my own space.
I walk up to the large white SUV; it’s bigger than my Jeep Rubicon back in Nevada, but it’ll do. After I throw my duffle onto the passenger seat and adjust the driver’s seat to my taller frame, I set off toward the last place I want to be.
The drive from Louisville to Santa Claus, Indiana, takes just over an hour. I don’t have to meet the attorney until four this afternoon at the Christmas Lake Golf Course clubhouse. It’s about two in the afternoon now and I decide to drive around town getting to know it again. I expected changes, but I did not expect the large theme and water park combo. I turn down North Holiday Boulevard, passing the American Legion, and see the campgrounds my father has owned since I was a small boy. They have a light show celebrating Rudolph now. I shake my head. What happened to the town I knew?
The town is now ready for the Christmas season every day of the year regardless of the weather. I continue down the boulevard, passing a new doctor’s office, and take a left as the memories hit me. My mom’s gallery is just down the way. But as I get a look at the large parking lot with the post office, visitors bureau, and a small mall, I pull over and find a spot to park. I grab my mid-thigh length, wool black trench coat off the passenger seat and step out of the SUV. The temperature is cooler than what I’m used to in the desert. I put my coat on and pull it tight over my white button-down shirt to cut the chill.
Walking across the lot, I see the Ace Hardware store and a new boutique. I continue through the bank parking lot past them. There sitting like a lonely sentry is the small cottage shop my mother used to work out of. I jog up the stairs and walk across the porch to the front windows. The memories flash behind my eyes. I can almost see her standing there surrounded by artwork. She took such pride in the fact she was giving the locals a place to sell their wares. Sheets now cover easels and dust covers everything.
“Hey, man, that place isn’t open,” a voice says from behind me. I turn around and see a gangly teenage boy. He’s in torn jeans that barely fit him, hanging lower than they should be.
“Pull your pants up.” I order the kid. “I know it’s not open.”
“Mr. Bah Humbug doesn’t like people on this porch.” The kid smarts off, standing tall and letting his pants slide down more.
I want to chuckle at the nickname because that is exactly what my father is like.
“Yeah, well, let him come tell me himself.” I move toward the stairs. The boy takes me in more before throwing down the skateboard in his hand and taking off across the parking lot. “Pull up your pants, punk,” I holler at his back.
My phone vibrates from my pocket and I slip it out.
“Bridger,” I growl into the phone as I watch the teenager skate past another teen, who he smacks in the head and says something that I can’t make out. “Mother fucker,” I exclaim, forgetting the phone is in my hand.
“Coal, are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry, Lee,” I say to my family’s attorney. “This town has changed a lot.”
“You’re here already? Where are you?”
“My mom’s gallery.” I look up at the sign and see it’s covered. It no longer says Christmas with Eloise Art Studio. I miss her standing here in what was her space.
“I’ll meet you there,” Lee says and hangs up.
I look back across the way to see the two punk teens, and as they go past me, a small woman with green eyes captures my attention. She turns to look at me before her hood obscures her face and she’s off. Her eyes were so bright it was like looking into the green lights of a Christmas tree, but without the joy. I watch her as she heads out. A part of me wants to follow her, but there is nothing in this town I want or need. I make my way back up onto the porch and wait for the attorney.
As I look out across the parking lot toward the trees, I remember running through those woods as a kid. Then when I was a teenager, I would ride my bike from the high school to my mom’s gallery to help her out. Earl, my father, was very rarely around growing up. He was out making money by buying more and more property and having it zoned for business. He owns this whole area I’m standing in. I wouldn’t be surprised if he owned that amusement park or sold his land to the owners to build on.
I try not to think of the last time I talked to him. It was right after I turned eighteen. My mother had died the month before my birthday; she would still be alive if Earl had been home when she fell. But he was out with whatever secretary or club housewife was the flavor of the month. I had told him I’d never forgive him, and he’d told me to get out. Not a problem. I’d walked to the nearest Air Force recruiting office and enlisted. I’m now a para-jumper living my life the way I want. I don’t depend on his money for anything. I haven’t been back to this town until now when Lee called me yesterday and woke me up. Earl died, and I needed to come back to take care of matters.
I’m shaken from my thoughts as Lee approaches. He’s worked for my family since he got out of law school, a job he fell into because of his father who worked for my family as well. Now Lee is completely in charge of all legal matters regarding the Bridger family. Even though I’ve been estranged from my father, I still talk to Lee regularly. He has less hair than the last time I saw him, with more gray to the brown, but he still has the same smile.
“Coal, how are you doing, kid?” He holds out his hand for me to shake. I take it and my large hand swallows his thinner one. “Well, guess not a kid anymore.” He chuckles.
“Hello, Lee.” I smile at him and nod toward the door of my mother’s gallery, praying he’ll unlock it. Shortly after her death, Earl locked it and wouldn’t let me in. With him gone now, I’m hoping I can get whatever I can before it’s given to whomever Earl made his heir.