scratched up and scraped and gashed and dented somewhere.”
“So you’re saying Aiden wasn’t in a motorcycle accident at all.”
“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” he said.
“I’m trying to see how all this fits together. And why it matters. So maybe he wasn’t in an accident. He’s still dead. Something still killed him.”
“That’s right. You’re right. He’s still dead,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Jesus! I’m trying to talk to you. I don’t know whatever it is you think I should know. If he didn’t crash, what happened? How did Aiden end up dead out there in the middle of the street?”
“If he didn’t crash, someone killed him and made it look like an accident,” my dad said. Casey monitored our exchange like an avid ping-pong fan. “Or maybe they intentionally left the scene looking suspicious enough for people to wonder what happened. Maybe they wanted people to know there was no accident. Maybe it’s a message.”
“A message? To who? From who?”
“To anyone who got sideways with them.”
“Got sideways with who?”
“Jesus, for my son, you sure are ignorant.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking ignorant. So educate me,” I said. “Sideways with who? Why would someone make a message out of Aiden? You’re not making any sense. You call me fucking ignorant!”
“Aiden was on heroine.”
Heroine? Aiden had smoked weed since sixth grade. But he never got into anything harder than that. Aiden had tried cocaine at a party once and freaked out. He said he’d never touch anything like that again.
“OK. You need to walk me through this step by step,” I said. “Because I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“A few months back. He was in a bad place.”
“Aiden would never be stupid enough to shoot heroine,” I said.
“I’m telling you, he was having a hard time. I don’t know what all was going on. He never talked about it. But you could sit with him in silence and feel the weight dragging on him. The way he just stared ahead sometimes. He was my son, and I should have pulled it out of him. I should have known it would eat him up. I thought he was being moody, but he was disappearing from the inside out. You don’t see it until you look back. But I see it now.”
As much as I tried to listen for any important details, I couldn’t help but cringe away from my dad as he puffed that cloud of self-pity around himself. Did he feel any true remorse? Or was he casting a smoke-screen so he would be the object of our sympathy? Why weep for poor departed Aiden when my dad was here in the flesh to console? Whether he deserved any sympathy or not, I had none to give to him. Someone else could coddle that old man. I was only interested in the truth about Aiden. He saw the stare I had fixed on him.
“You don’t believe me,” he said. “Yeah, your old man’s a lying fuck. I’m making all this shit up. Fine. Ask Casey or Paige if Aiden was using heroine. They’ll tell you.”
Casey was rigid, trying to stay on the sidelines. I reminded myself of what I had come for.
“Do you have Aiden’s bike here?” I asked.
“The bike’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Aiden was still paying for it. It wasn’t even in his name. The guy he was buying it from took it.”
“So who’s this guy?” I asked.
“Jeremiah. That’s the only name I know for him. He’s a welder. Lives on Third. Down on the sixteen or seventeen hundred block. I’d know it if I saw it.”
I had my car keys out before he finished. I assumed he was inviting himself along as my guide. But when he saw I was serious, he backed down.
“I just opened a beer,” he said.
“Put it in the fridge. I’m flying out tomorrow so I need to see that bike today.”
He took a long drink, left the beer on the coffee table, and grumbled all the way to the car. The address he described was a few minutes away. I knew the area so that eradicated the necessity for communication until he had
“So you’re saying Aiden wasn’t in a motorcycle accident at all.”
“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” he said.
“I’m trying to see how all this fits together. And why it matters. So maybe he wasn’t in an accident. He’s still dead. Something still killed him.”
“That’s right. You’re right. He’s still dead,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Jesus! I’m trying to talk to you. I don’t know whatever it is you think I should know. If he didn’t crash, what happened? How did Aiden end up dead out there in the middle of the street?”
“If he didn’t crash, someone killed him and made it look like an accident,” my dad said. Casey monitored our exchange like an avid ping-pong fan. “Or maybe they intentionally left the scene looking suspicious enough for people to wonder what happened. Maybe they wanted people to know there was no accident. Maybe it’s a message.”
“A message? To who? From who?”
“To anyone who got sideways with them.”
“Got sideways with who?”
“Jesus, for my son, you sure are ignorant.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking ignorant. So educate me,” I said. “Sideways with who? Why would someone make a message out of Aiden? You’re not making any sense. You call me fucking ignorant!”
“Aiden was on heroine.”
Heroine? Aiden had smoked weed since sixth grade. But he never got into anything harder than that. Aiden had tried cocaine at a party once and freaked out. He said he’d never touch anything like that again.
“OK. You need to walk me through this step by step,” I said. “Because I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“A few months back. He was in a bad place.”
“Aiden would never be stupid enough to shoot heroine,” I said.
“I’m telling you, he was having a hard time. I don’t know what all was going on. He never talked about it. But you could sit with him in silence and feel the weight dragging on him. The way he just stared ahead sometimes. He was my son, and I should have pulled it out of him. I should have known it would eat him up. I thought he was being moody, but he was disappearing from the inside out. You don’t see it until you look back. But I see it now.”
As much as I tried to listen for any important details, I couldn’t help but cringe away from my dad as he puffed that cloud of self-pity around himself. Did he feel any true remorse? Or was he casting a smoke-screen so he would be the object of our sympathy? Why weep for poor departed Aiden when my dad was here in the flesh to console? Whether he deserved any sympathy or not, I had none to give to him. Someone else could coddle that old man. I was only interested in the truth about Aiden. He saw the stare I had fixed on him.
“You don’t believe me,” he said. “Yeah, your old man’s a lying fuck. I’m making all this shit up. Fine. Ask Casey or Paige if Aiden was using heroine. They’ll tell you.”
Casey was rigid, trying to stay on the sidelines. I reminded myself of what I had come for.
“Do you have Aiden’s bike here?” I asked.
“The bike’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Aiden was still paying for it. It wasn’t even in his name. The guy he was buying it from took it.”
“So who’s this guy?” I asked.
“Jeremiah. That’s the only name I know for him. He’s a welder. Lives on Third. Down on the sixteen or seventeen hundred block. I’d know it if I saw it.”
I had my car keys out before he finished. I assumed he was inviting himself along as my guide. But when he saw I was serious, he backed down.
“I just opened a beer,” he said.
“Put it in the fridge. I’m flying out tomorrow so I need to see that bike today.”
He took a long drink, left the beer on the coffee table, and grumbled all the way to the car. The address he described was a few minutes away. I knew the area so that eradicated the necessity for communication until he had
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