Saltine crackers and a quarter jar of peanut butter. A container of half and half. Dirty glasses on top of the counters. The constant drip of the water faucet. Semis streak down Highway 41.

He stands in the kitchen, looking through drawers. Coffee is stirred with a butter knife. The old man sticks it in his mouth and wipes the blade clean. The hot drink is slurped.

Walter begins talking to himself as he goes over to the couch. At first, it’s mumbling, then a full-on conversation with himself. He lights a cigarette. Hands are shaking. The old man blows out gray smoke along with white air. He covers his shoulders and body in a blanket while talking to an invisible Thelma.

Where are you? Are you here? I don’t see you. Must’ve been some kind of delusion the other night. Thought I heard you. Thought I saw you. I’ve been wrong before, he inhales. Walter looks at the pictures on the wall of stick figures holding hands. He realizes it’s a drawing of Bobby and Thelma. He’s nowhere in the picture.

You loved him. Didn’t you? Walter asks the air. He told me you used to hold him at night when I was away. Did you hold onto him for too long? He takes a drink of coffee. Did you love him more than me? he waits for an answer. I remember calling you from Pittsburgh one night. Was on one of my crazy drives. The phone rang and rang and rang. Nobody answered. It was late. Round midnight. And I wondered if you two were asleep. Wondered if he was tucked away in his bed or ours. Well. Which was it? Silence.  That’s what I thought. Exactly what I thought.

In walks Bobby with a duffel bag of pot bricks. He plops the bag down by the couch and starts unloading the contents on the table. The old man is still quiet.

What’re you looking at? Bobby asks. Hey, he snaps his fingers in front of Walter’s face. Come on now. Stop staring staring into space. He pulls out a bottle of Fireball. Here. Drink up. Bobby tosses the bottle to him, and he fumbles it. The old man picks it up and begins to drink. That coffee will only get you so far. Need some gas is what you need. A little fuel. A motorcycle speeds throughout the trailer park.

I need answers, Walter says. But I’m scared to ask. I’ve never been so afraid, he takes another drink. Did you and Thelma love each other? Bobby stops unloading the bag.

What’re you getting at?

All those times I wasn’t here. Did you…

Have another drink, dad. Maybe it’ll clear your head.

Or make it foggy. I know about you two boy. I’m onto you. Bobby smacks the old man in the face. Hits him hard with the back of his hand. He reaches into his pocket and grabs a wadded up twenty, and throws it at him. He begins to leave.

You should’ve been here, dad. Should’ve been here.

The End