Fear and Courage

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

At home on 5th Street, Brian stashed his bike in the separate cluttered garage and joined his dad on the street, where he washed his “baby,” a twenty-year-old Kenworth truck tractor. It had a windshield ding and a few scratches and tiny dents here and there, but the paint was in good shape, and it was his dad’s pride and joy.

Sweat rolled off his large head. “Have a good ride?”

“I guess.”

“You guess? Something happen?” He obviously saw the grass-stained clothes and frowned.

Brian didn’t want to go into it and got a sponge from the soapy pail.

His dad dumped the wheel brush into the bucket. “What happened? Were you with one of your girlfriends? If so, you damn well better remember to use a hood on your manhood each and every time you do it.” He winked and dropped his hand on Brian’s neck, giving a squeeze. “Now, tell your old man the truth. What happened?”

“I was at Mrs. Guardino’s and then was riding around and ran into Robby McNamara and his little gang, is all.”

“Did they hurt you?” Dad’s huge frame blocked the sun.

“Not really.”

“That means ‘yes.’”

“He punched me once, but I sort of blocked it.”

“And?”

“He said I was a black boy in a white neighborhood. They slapped, punched, and kicked me and knocked me down.”

“How many?”

“Two McNamara boys and one other kid actually hit me. Others, including Justus, watched.”

Dad’s eyes grew big and his mouth flattened. He took a deep breath and grabbed some gum from his pocket, unwrapped several pieces, then shoved them in his mouth—his substitute for cigarettes.

“Don’t get mad, Dad. I just won’t go on that street. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”

Dad’s Southern twang grew more noticeable when he got mad. “Don’t you ever be sorry for being who you are or going where you have a right to be.” With his brows knitted and the corners of his mouth pulled down, he picked up the wheel brush and went back to washing. Brian worked the front of the rig.

When they finished, the truck gleamed in the strong sunlight. Brian loved being in and near the vehicle, and he treasured the times he went on runs with his dad around the San Francisco Bay area.

Everywhere they went, or almost everywhere, his dad was respected for his driving skills. One time when a new driver had held up traffic because he couldn’t get a trailer backed into a tight alley in San Francisco, it had resulted in shouts, swearing, and honking. Dad had run over, pulling Brian with him. He’d jumped on the running board of the other truck and offered to get the rig where it should be. The stressed young driver had slid over to let Dad in, who backed into the loading dock in a minute, giving a verbal tutorial to the driver and Brian. The car drivers had waved and shouted thanks, and Brian’s heart had swelled with pride.

Once, a dock manager had made a comment under his breath that it was better when all the truckers were white. Brian’s dad had said a lot of mankind’s history came from Africa.

Now, they finished washing the truck and put away the cleaning stuff. “Start the engine, son. I need to check the pressure lines and gauges.” When he finished, he nodded for Brian to turn off the engine.

Yelling from Jim’s house next door grabbed their attention and they traded glances. Oh, no. They were at it again.

Brian winced and asked, “Can’t you do something?”

“Not unless Jim says it’s okay, and you know he never does. I know what I want to do, but that’s sort of illegal.” He gave a sad smile.

“Sort of?”

Dad reached low to wrap an arm around Brian’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of this heat.”

Inside, Brian lovingly bumped his dad. “I’m glad I got you as a dad.”

“And I’m proud of you, son. You’re a good boy. I’ve never had a call from school or the police. I just hope you’re not secretly a hit man for the Mafia.”

They shared a laugh.

The yelling from next door escalated, then got quiet.

Worrying for Jim, Brian headed to his haven, the cool basement where he felt safe. He paced before settling into a chair and turned on the old TV. He didn’t really look forward to junior college. He never fit in and had no real friends, just acquaintances in high school, and college would likely be the same. He had no idea what he wanted to do, except cooking. Dad wanted them to be a father-son team, but it didn’t touch his heart deep enough. Besides, Brian was small and slender, and his dad tall and huge.

He thought of Jim who often filled his thoughts and made Brian feel good. Sexy Jim, with a well-shaped ass and killer smile. He was certainly hot and bordering on handsome except for the smaller-than-average nose, which Brian thought was cute. Brian’s c**k filled.