Like Grownups Do by Nathan Roden

good one and kept Jack engaged enough that he didn’t notice the steady flow of full beer bottles that Babe put in front of him. Before long, they were both drunk enough, and peeing often enough, that they were going in the back yard. They let Mr. Pendleton out as they went because having a dog makes it okay to pee outside, especially when you’re drunk.
    Jack and Mr. Pendleton returned from the latest excursion as halftime began. The dog went back to sleep immediately. Babe lowered the volume as the talking heads began their rundown of the scores of the day.
     
    “This is great, Babe. Thanks for having me over,” Jack said.
    “The pleasure is all mine. We used to do this a lot.”
    “Yeah.” Jack said, turning to stare out the glass wall at the moonlit back yard. “You want to hear something crazy?”
    “What’s that?”
    “It feels like… like she’s here— in this house. Not like a ghost, or anything creepy. I’m drunk, but still—shit. I’m sorry. I should keep my fat mouth shut. ”
    “No, don’t be sorry, Jack. I know what you’re talking about. I feel her, too; and not just under the influence.”
    Jack sat his beer bottle down and ran his hands through his hair.
    “I’ve almost forgotten how to talk like a human being; all the fucking secrets. My life has been nothing but one long, endless chain of secrets—ever since Dad was killed. I can’t even open my mouth without funneling everything through the filter. Is this classified? Does this person have clearance? Does this violate protocol? Does this person need-to-know ? Finding secrets, keeping secrets, leaking secrets—do you know how fucked up that is? People are not supposed to live like this. Goddammit. What good do secrets do for anybody, anyway?”
     
    Jack took a deep breath. He picked up his beer and drained it.
    Babe was on his feet before Jack emptied the bottle. He was back quickly and placed two full bottles on the table. He said nothing but he sensed that the evening was going precisely where he had hoped it would go.
    “If you promise not to arrest me, I’m going to tell you a secret,” Jack said.
    Babe raised his right hand. “I hereby solemnly promise not to arrest you, Agent Englemann.”
    “What do you know about my dad’s death?” Jack asked.
    Babe let out a long breath. “Jill said that he was in a pursuit and something went wrong with the squad car. He was killed in a rollover.”
     
    “Well, that was the official bullshit story; which, if I didn’t say so already, was total bullshit . Dad had been with the sheriff’s department for a few years when they started drilling on his parent’s land. A couple of years later and they’re into serious money. They start hounding Dad to quit his job. But he never wanted to be anything but a cop. ‘You don’t have to be out there risking your life, son!’ they would say. Then my Mother started on him, the same story.
    “You would think this would have been a great situation, right? You have big, easy family money now. Easy street. Relax. Hell, just ask anybody. What would your life be like if we threw a couple of million dollars at it? ‘Oh, that would solve aaaallllllll my problems!’ It didn’t work for Dad, though. He started drinking more. A lot more. I used to see him leave for work, drunk as shit . They took his car away but they didn’t know what else to do with him.
     
    “One night he walked to the station as drunk as a skunk. He went into the station—walked right in, opened the box on the wall and took the keys to a car. The only person there was the on-duty dispatcher and she said she didn’t see him. No one really knows what happened after that. The next morning I was riding my bike to a friend’s house and I saw the wreckage around the bridge column. He must have been flying .
     
    “He had gone through the windshield and what was left of him was surrounded by pulverized glass and beer cans. The car was practically vaporized , and these