Blue Bruiser Story, Alberta Blues
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Dennis waited patiently for a man named Dr.Hullard at the base steps of a doctor's office outside. It felt good once in awhile to just lean back and relax in his old stomping grounds of Alberta, Canada. Never could stand the weather though, not so much the cold. More the... wind. Yeah. The wind. A brisk whine of an old creaky door interrupted that small trailing thought real quick.
"Ah, there he is. How are you faring Dennis?" a wrinkled voice asked.
"Better then you, you dinkus codger. How is the wife?" Dennis jovially popped along with a slap on the back of the emerging Dr. Hullard.
"Martha has been dead for near twenty years, Den--" the feebled Dr. Hullard began, with a hint of despair on his tongue.
Dennis quickly waved that unfortunate answer away from his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, Yancy. How are the kids? I heard Joshua got his masters... in something or other."
"Bio-engineering or some such new garfangled approach to it. Too much trying to play god. As for the other two... Mary's Alice is pregnant again and the other prances around in a blue suit punching fellers all over hells half acre." Yancy Hullard shot off. "Jumping around and kicking down tanks, without so much as a mind to call."
Dennis rubbed his mustache, as they started slowly walking down the street (with respect to Dr. Hullard's slowed movement in old age) to a old but refurbished pub. "It's good to hear about Alice though. I doubt she even remembers me, come to think of it. And we talked about this dad stu--" Dennis started.
Yancy Hullard wasn't about to let his age interfere with his fiery attitude... at least not until he was in a coffin. "Dennis ______ , Foster-Father or Father makes no hell of a difference to me, Kiddo. Your a Hullard of all accounts, and you should damn well act like it by giving your old coot of a dad a git-darn phone call, even in the blasted wee hours of the night, once a hell-damn year."
Dennis scoffed while he scanned the street quickly for life. It was as quiet as the grave. He remembered the old days when Yancy Hull-- er, "Dad" was much more spry, reasonably well built and one of the town doctors in emerging Calgary. It was a heckuva lot smaller back then. He also remembered how Yancy used to kick him around after coming home so late or after starting fights at school.
"Get off my back, you boiled old egghead. I came to see ya, didn't I?" Dennis quickly shot back.
"I got a right mind to give ya a bit of a cuffing boy, your just lucky I'm up in my years or I aughta-" Yancy retorted with a wheeze and a shaking fist. Not many people that'd say that to Dennis, even half jokingly. He couldn't help but laugh.
"Thats the Yancy I re--"
"Dad!"
"Thats the old man I remember. So then, Pops... if we're going to stroll down memory lane... I'm sure you are all for footing the pub bill." Dennis joked. Funny how Dennis' dry humor actually got somewhat funny, even to himself, around the old stomping ground. Well, he used to be a riot. All those good old jokes are now staples in the book of "heard it" though. Yancy wasn't too bitter about the little exchange... he was just happy to see his foster-son again after so long, and possibly the last time.
Dennis left town during the late nineteen fifties for New York. Yancy housed Dennis since he was a scrappy sixteen year old after his disgruntled father left him. Greased blonde hair, linebacker frame, dirty leather jackets, a like for loud music, fast cars and that little booth out in the soda shoppe... Dennis was a handful. No problem for Yancy Hullard though. A doctor and a golden glove boxer back in his day. He knew how to hit, when to hit, how to stitch, and was solid in his old age approach to parenting. His kids didn't much like him, and don't much like him now... but they are all good people. With good families... and never ending stories about funny and sad times about childhood. Good drinking stories.
Dennis recalled the night he left town. Rolling about the small town and it's backroads in a beefed up hotrod, the car that swallowed up all of Dennis' time and part timer money. It was a sweet set of wheels... Yancy still had it somewhere on his property. No doubt tarped up, neglected, and nearly completely forgotten about... by both parties. Still, back in the day, it was the real showstopper. Dennis' then crowning achievement, planning to drive off the face of the earth with it. That was all before hand planning though, never to be acted upon. Everyone has a plan that never comes to fruitition and Dennis is no exception. The death of his small standing want for a long roadtrip anywhere with Stacy McGwinty was also the death on a seventeen year old kid. Liqour, the boys, and a hotrod at night on a dark tuesday was just good enough of a mix to end a teenagers life. Accidently, of course... but you don't usually deal in accidentals in homicide.
After all those beating and ravings about posture, attitude, and being an overall rebel... Dennis did the only thing he could think of when he hit that teenager. Boot it down to Yancy's place and beg for help. Which is what he did and what Yancy gave him... despite knowing the circumstances. Five hundred dollars and jumping a train in the night with Yancy's blessing was the long trip for a young man to New York. Yancy tarped the car, hid it and lied to the police. All for a young man he considered a son. Dennis' life in Calgary fell apart pretty quickly when the police broke Tommy Locklaw, one of the boys, into spilling the beans on what happened. It was the talk to the town for awhile but like most things it died. The warrant fell through, was never recorded into the new system, and fell through the cracks. Dennis lost his job, his college degree [and his linebacker spot on the football team], his name and what surprisingly hurt him the most, a foster-family. He became Dennis Kereden then. No longer Dennis ______ .
Yancy elbowed open the door to the pub, since Dennis was lost in thought and stumbling around like a giest beside him. That sound alone was enough to startle Dennis back to the land of the living, or the present moment. Briskly following Yancy into the pub, he scoped the television a couple of stool-campers where looking up at. Some guntoting criminals had been found out back near the oil fields and were openning fire on several Mounties. Dennis just trudged on by and sat down by his father. It was priorities to Dennis. The world can burn, this time.
