His left hand shook, making the ice cubes clink around the rocks glass as he brought it to his lips. Steven Reynolds stared at the last sip of Scotch before he drank it. The peat flavor didn’t have time to settle on his tongue before he swallowed. The alcohol didn’t burn as much as the guilt did.
He sat the glass down on the table, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The pungent smell of cheap lemon floor cleaner and dishwashing liquid burned the back of his nose. He’d mopped the kitchen and dining room floor and cleaned the dishes earlier when he’d come home from the insurance adjuster’s office. The scent of dust and stale dirt had joined the sour stink of what were once pleasant aromas of microwave dinners he’d eaten every day for the last two weeks. He’d almost puked. It was the first time he’d regretted asking his wife to take their two children who still lived at home to her cousin’s house three states away.
He’d assumed he could handle the drawn-out insurance claim process better if they weren’t around. But the truth was unforgiving. The wildfire that had destroyed his furniture business had also incinerated his confidence. For the first time in a long while, he felt like a failure. And as he opened his eyes and looked at the half-empty bottle sitting across from a pile of paperwork, he thought something much worse.
He believed he was acting like his father. And with the loss of everything he’d built, he may have finally become the man.
As he started to reach for the bottle, his cell phone on the table vibrated.
Another call from his oldest son, Nick.
He’d called every day since the fire, but Steven hadn’t answered. His son was on the other side of the country and was going to begin his Naval deployment in two days’ time.
Steven didn’t answer and reached for the bottle. Before he could grab it, he knocked the contents of the table onto the floor. His glass shattered, and papers flew around the room.
He clenched his fists.
His face burned.
“Damn it!” At that instant, memories of finding his dad passed out drunk in the yard and having to bail him out of jail since his mom had left them long ago came to mind. He took a few deep breaths to calm down. That’s when he noticed the unopened business envelope lying on the floor. The top of it had begun to darken as what was left of the Scotch and ice soaked the edge. He looked at the return address.
“Dawson Mackenzie from Billings, Montana? You’re a long way from Gatlinburg,” he said.
Steven reached down and picked the envelope up. He ran his finger behind the flap and tore it open. He pulled out a piece of yellow paper when two items fell onto the table. One of them was a very old business card from when he’d opened his furniture business almost twelve years earlier. The other looked like a baseball card he’d collected as a kid.
He looked at the trading card. A comic book character was on the front. He had a muscular build and was wearing a black suit that covered his entire body. He clung upside down to the side of a silver skyscraper above a sprawling city beneath and held a newspaper open in front of him. Two large green horizontal slits were where his eyes were supposed to be. They ran from his ears inward at forty-five-degree angles until they reached the bridge of his nose. On his chest, there was a large paw with its claws extended in the same color as his eyes. The words ‘The Lion’ were printed near the bottom edge.
Steven put the card down and opened the letter. The words inside were handwritten in cursive, and despite the paper being wet, none of the characters had faded.
Mr. Reynolds,
You probably don’t remember me, and I hope you’ve forgotten the man I was when we met a decade ago. I was eating breakfast at the Pancake Factory in Gatlinburg because it was the only place I could find with a counter that didn’t serve alcohol. That was the first day I’d decided to get sober. I’d just lost custody of my son and was at the bottom of a long slide.
I’d been an artist who’d sold several pieces to influential and connected people in my industry. As word got around, I began to believe my own hype. At some point I started to live like I thought was expected of someone in my position. I tried to fuel my creativity with any kind of vice I could and eventually settled on alcohol.
That decision had led to me meeting and spending time with people who’ve never so much as reached out to me since then. In between drinks, I met someone and we ended up having a son. Eventually my façade faded, and she got tired of my antics and kicked me out.
The day the two of us met, I rambled on to anyone that would listen. Most folks ignored me, but you listened. We ended up talking, but I honestly don’t remember most of our conversation. The part I do changed my life.
You asked me if I had kids, and I told you I did have one who was just getting out of diapers, but I’d just lost custody of him. I told you I couldn’t blame her because all I did was drink and cry, and I probably wasn’t pleasant to be around. I hadn’t done any work for months and thought I’d ruined everything.
When I asked you about your family, you said you had three kids but could relate to my story. You said your old man had been a drunk who was never wrong and missed out on yours and your kid’s lives too. You told me to be proud of myself because at least I was trying to get better.
When I got up to leave, I realized I didn’t have any money and had cut up my credit cards to keep from buying any more booze. You paid my check, gave me one of your business cards and told me to call you if I needed a job since you’d just started your own business.
Even though I never took you up on that offer, that day became the first in years I could enjoy existing again. I’ve stayed sober since.
While I can’t repay you, I wanted to let you know I’m about to publish my first graphic novel next month. It’s called The Lion, and it’s about a man who overcame his own arrogance to become a superhero. I included one of the trading cards that will be given out at the launch party and wanted to see if you could come. There’ll be about twenty people there, but I hope you can join us.
The character turned out well, but I had to hold back on my design. The original sketch was much more colorful, but the publisher told me that if I didn’t simplify it, I could pay for everything myself!
Thanks again for all you did for me. I think I told you then, but just in case, my son’s name is Greg, and he’ll be there too. I’d love to introduce you. I hope to see you soon.
Sincerely,
Dawson
The signature was beautiful and legible, especially when compared to the nearly illegible one beside it. A phone number and email were listed below the names.
Steven pulled out his phone and looked up Dawson’s name. True to the letter, he was indeed an artist who was about to release a graphic novel the following month, and the image listed matched the one on the trading card.
Steven stared at the screen. He tried to remember the conversation, but he couldn’t. He smiled, then looked at the bottle and felt an ache in his chest. He was about to stand up, but before he could move, his phone buzzed again.
This time, it was an unknown number. Steven rejected it and pulled up the list of calls he’d missed. He selected his son’s name and confirmed the number.
His chest tightened as the first ring went unanswered. His head ached as the second followed suit. Just before the third, he heard a voice on the other end, and he let the breath he didn’t realize he was holding go.