He looked older than the last time. Or maybe I just noticed it more when I hadn't seen him in a while. But I saw it now, the way age had settled into him like rust on a frame. He’d been a big man once, but the mass had slumped, heavy and soft in the wrong places. He had my eyes, or I had his, and I'd never decided how I felt about that.
"How've you been?" I said.
He looked at me over the top of his can. "Since when do you care?"
"I'm asking, aren't I?"
He shrugged and looked out at the field. "Same as always."
I nodded. Same as always meant drinking and watching the days go by and making sure everyone in reach knew whose fault it was. I didn't say that.
"I need to come in for a minute," I said. "There's something of Mom's I need to get."
That got his attention. He looked back at me, slower this time. Then he stood, pushed the screen door open and went inside without a word. I followed him in.
The house smelled the same as it always had. Stale air and cigarette smoke, the mustiness of a place that never got opened up. It was worse than I remembered. Dishes in the sink, a pile of post on the table that hadn't been touched in weeks. The curtains my mother had hung were still there, grey with dustnow, the hem coming loose on one side. I'd fixed that hem once. Apparently nobody had since.
He leaned against the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen, can in hand.
"So." He took a pull from his can, eyes on me. "What is it you need?"
I looked at him for a second. There was no way to say this that didn't open a door I didn't want opened. I knew that coming in. I'd known it the whole ride here.
"Mom's ring," I said.
He didn't say anything right away. Just looked at me the way he did when he was deciding which direction to come from.
"That Clarke girl then." He said it like he was turning something over in his mouth.
"Madison," I said. "Yes."
He made a sound low in his throat, not quite a laugh. Took another pull from his can and looked at me like I'd just said something funny.
"Well." He tilted his head. "Look at you."
I let it sit there and kept my mouth shut. I'd learned a long time ago that engaging with him was like grabbing the wrong end of something—you always came away worse off. I just needed the ring. I needed to get out of here and get back to Maddie and do this thing before I talked myself out of it.
"So, the ring," I said. "Where is it?"
He didn't move. Just stayed there looking at me with that half-smile that meant he was getting comfortable.
"Heard she's going to be a doctor," he said.
I didn't answer.
"Smart girl. Always was." He took a pull from his can. "Doctor friends. Doctor money. Whole different world from this one." He gestured vaguely at the room, at me, at everything."And you're going to show up with your mother's ring and your greasy hands and do what exactly?"
"That's not your business."
"No," he said, easy as anything. "Suppose it's not." He looked at the can in his hand for a moment. "Just seems like you'd be holding her back is all."
The room was quiet except for the sound of the field outside, the wind moving through it.
"Must be nice," he said. "Thinking you're the kind of man who gets to keep a woman like that."
"Guess I'm a lucky guy," I said.
He held my eyes until the air in the room felt too thin, then pushed off the doorframe and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard a cabinet open, glass on glass. He came back with a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers, dropped into the couch and poured two fingers into each without asking.