Hardstone woke to the sight of Dell peering intently at him.  He felt like twenty miles of bad road. Just over his left shoulder some machine was beeping, an annoyingly whiny sound that made him angry.

“What happened?” he asked, his mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton and Super-glued together.

“Well, first off; you’re alive. If the little punk had loaded slugs instead of buck shot, you might not be. One of the little SOB’s shot you as you left the house. The cops showed up just minutes after the little party you threw and arrested twelve of them. They’re all facing weapons and drug charges. They won’t be home for Christmas.” Dell said.

“As for you, I am supposed to inform the detective in the hall when you’re awake; apparently they want to ask you some questions. I don’t figure we need to rush anything for a minute or two though.”  Dell looked at him closely. “Geez, Jim; why didn’t you just save a lot of trouble and blow the little shits away?”

“I couldn’t. I wanted to, but; I realized that as much as I hated them, they were just a bunch of wannabes, I kept thinking about Michael, about all the things I should have done for and with him and didn’t. I guess I realized that killing them wouldn’t make me feel any better.”

The two talked for several moments; and finally, Dell got up and stepped into the hall.

The questioning had been routine, just clarifying things they already had a fuzzy picture of.  The cop looked at him at the end of the questioning and sighed.

“You realize of course, this means that you’re going to lose your concealed permit. You might even have some probation and some fines; but, I can’t see any charges looming on your horizon.”  She leaned down and kissed him fully on the lips, the sweet tender kiss of a wife and mother whose life had been shattered. “Jim, they don’t know about you and me; they can’t ever; or there would be a serious investigation.  I just wanted to say thank you. Michael would have…” she stopped. Detective Denise Lyscombe, former girlfriend of Jim Hardstone and mother of Michael Lyscombe,walked from the room in tears.

Denise had been right. His carry permit had been revoked and he had would be placed on two years probation for communicating a threat; however, no criminal charges had been filed.

Denise and Hardstone had met when Jim worked for the Washington State Police, Denise had been a rookie with Spokane P.D., they had broken it off when Hardstone had tried to talk her into leaving the force when she got pregnant. They still struggled to maintain a relationship, yet; it was obvious they were working at it.

It took two weeks for Jim to get mobile enough to move around. The buck shot had torn through dermis but had not penetrated. He would be a little stiff for a while, but, he would be fine, physically.

The cemetery was well-manicured and pristine and Jim nodded internally at the choice. Michael deserved at least this much from his absentee father. He stood looking at the marble headstone and trying to remember ever feeling so empty inside. The loss was almost too much to bear and he kept thinking that he just wanted to breathe again.

A skateboard lay against the stone, not one of the new polycarbonate boards, but an old fashioned hand built board. Jim had seen this last in his mom’s garage as a kid getting ready to head off to Parris Island.

Jim smiled, placed the board back and turned to leave, the cold winter wind blowing at his hair.