Read Online Valley of the Dudes by Ryan Field - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ryan Field
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Rush and his aunt were
the only ones left. The women from his mother’s knitting circle and a few neighbors
attended the funeral. Harold, Rush’s old boyfriend, was there, too. He showed up in a
navy blue suit and stood next to Rush during the entire service.
When it was over, Harold walked him back to the limousine and said, “If you
need anything, let me know.” Then he reached for Rush’s hand, squeezed it, and added,
“I mean that.”
Rush smiled and shook his hand. Though he was still in shock, it was nice to
know Harold didn’t hold any hard feelings against him for moving to New York. “I’m
glad you came today, Harold. Thank you.” He’d told everyone he knew in New York not
to come to the funeral, especially Lance Sharp. Rush wanted to go through this alone. For some reason he didn’t fully understand, he wanted to keep his New York life and his
New England life separated.
Harold smiled and let go of his hand. As he stepped back, he said, “I’m around if
you need anything.”
Rush nodded and said, “Thank you.”
The day after the funeral, Rush’s aunt announced that she was going to visit her
cousin in Florida that weekend,and she would stay down there indefinitely. She spoke
with a stiff upper lip, but there were tears streaming down her face. “I’m not ready to be
alone in this big old house,” she said. “I am coming back. But I want to get away for the
time being. This was just too much of a shock for me. I’m the older one. I should have
gone first.”
Rush hugged her as hard as he could, wiping a few tears from his eyes. In only a
week’s time, she seemed to have aged years. “Why don’t you come to New York and
stay with me for a while?”
She shook her head back and forth. “New York isn’t for me,” she said. “I’d be
more comfortable in Florida with my cousin. But thank you for asking. You’re a good
boy.”
She was gone by that weekend. Rush booked a flight and drove her to the airport.
On Saturday morning, while Rush was still in bed, his cell phone rang. When he
picked it up off the nightstand, he saw it was only seven in the morning. He rubbed his
eyes and said, “Hello?” The drapes were drawn and his room was still dark. He wouldn’t
have been able to read the caller ID. “Are you awake yet?” Lance Sharp shouted. “Because I’m at the train station and
I need someone to pick me up.”
Rush bolted forward. “You’re where ?”
“I’m here, in Connecticut,” he said. “Are you coming to get me or should I call a
taxi?”
Rush smiled and sighed. Hearing Lance’s voice, after a week of absolute hell,
made every muscle in his body relax. “I’ll be right there,” Rush said. “I have to get
dressed first.”
When he hung up, he jumped out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a white
turtleneck. Though his reddish brown hair was short, it was sticking up on top and
pressed down on the sides, so he covered his head with a knitted cap. Then he washed his
face with cold water and brushed his teeth.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up to the platform in his mother’s old Jeep
Wagoneer. It was olive green with a white top and wooden side panels. The car was more
than twenty-five years old and it still ran like it had just been driven off the showroom
floor. Rush’s mother had only owned a few cars in her lifetime. She’d come from old
New England stock, where they believed in holding on to their money and driving their
cars until they couldn’t be driven anymore. The car before the Jeep had been a Chrysler
station wagon from the 1950s.
Lance was standing near the steps, wearing a black leather jacket, dark sunglasses,
and a pair of expensive jeans. His thick gold watch sparkled and his shoes shone. Even
though Rush knew this was Lance’s idea of a
the only ones left. The women from his mother’s knitting circle and a few neighbors
attended the funeral. Harold, Rush’s old boyfriend, was there, too. He showed up in a
navy blue suit and stood next to Rush during the entire service.
When it was over, Harold walked him back to the limousine and said, “If you
need anything, let me know.” Then he reached for Rush’s hand, squeezed it, and added,
“I mean that.”
Rush smiled and shook his hand. Though he was still in shock, it was nice to
know Harold didn’t hold any hard feelings against him for moving to New York. “I’m
glad you came today, Harold. Thank you.” He’d told everyone he knew in New York not
to come to the funeral, especially Lance Sharp. Rush wanted to go through this alone. For some reason he didn’t fully understand, he wanted to keep his New York life and his
New England life separated.
Harold smiled and let go of his hand. As he stepped back, he said, “I’m around if
you need anything.”
Rush nodded and said, “Thank you.”
The day after the funeral, Rush’s aunt announced that she was going to visit her
cousin in Florida that weekend,and she would stay down there indefinitely. She spoke
with a stiff upper lip, but there were tears streaming down her face. “I’m not ready to be
alone in this big old house,” she said. “I am coming back. But I want to get away for the
time being. This was just too much of a shock for me. I’m the older one. I should have
gone first.”
Rush hugged her as hard as he could, wiping a few tears from his eyes. In only a
week’s time, she seemed to have aged years. “Why don’t you come to New York and
stay with me for a while?”
She shook her head back and forth. “New York isn’t for me,” she said. “I’d be
more comfortable in Florida with my cousin. But thank you for asking. You’re a good
boy.”
She was gone by that weekend. Rush booked a flight and drove her to the airport.
On Saturday morning, while Rush was still in bed, his cell phone rang. When he
picked it up off the nightstand, he saw it was only seven in the morning. He rubbed his
eyes and said, “Hello?” The drapes were drawn and his room was still dark. He wouldn’t
have been able to read the caller ID. “Are you awake yet?” Lance Sharp shouted. “Because I’m at the train station and
I need someone to pick me up.”
Rush bolted forward. “You’re where ?”
“I’m here, in Connecticut,” he said. “Are you coming to get me or should I call a
taxi?”
Rush smiled and sighed. Hearing Lance’s voice, after a week of absolute hell,
made every muscle in his body relax. “I’ll be right there,” Rush said. “I have to get
dressed first.”
When he hung up, he jumped out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a white
turtleneck. Though his reddish brown hair was short, it was sticking up on top and
pressed down on the sides, so he covered his head with a knitted cap. Then he washed his
face with cold water and brushed his teeth.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up to the platform in his mother’s old Jeep
Wagoneer. It was olive green with a white top and wooden side panels. The car was more
than twenty-five years old and it still ran like it had just been driven off the showroom
floor. Rush’s mother had only owned a few cars in her lifetime. She’d come from old
New England stock, where they believed in holding on to their money and driving their
cars until they couldn’t be driven anymore. The car before the Jeep had been a Chrysler
station wagon from the 1950s.
Lance was standing near the steps, wearing a black leather jacket, dark sunglasses,
and a pair of expensive jeans. His thick gold watch sparkled and his shoes shone. Even
though Rush knew this was Lance’s idea of a
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