Preach and me flew home. The band voted. Tim stood down, because he was my oldest friend, but he knew Preach was the one who should go. Not for me, for Mom and the girls.

We didn’t make dick and every penny we could, we set aside ’cause Tommy played it that way.

He wanted us in a studio. He wanted us to cut a demo. Studio time cost a fortune.

He was getting us more money and sometimes managed to get us takes of the door. That was part that Tommy was a man it was hard to say no to and part that we were getting a following.

Seriously.

Sometimes, we’d play “Give Then Take” and people would sing it with us, not that first record pressed, not a joke.

Tommy found the cheapest seats he could get, and I’ll always owe it to the boys that they let us have the money so we could fly home for Dad’s funeral.

Preach was the rock, you know? Not just for me. For Mom. Penny. My baby sister, Lana.

He did dishes, man.

[Leans forward, shaking head then hangs it]

[Mumbling] He did everything.

[Long silence]

[Coughs, lifts head, but does not sit back]

He slept on the floor by my bed in my old bedroom. Mom hadn’t moved anything out. We didn’t have a guest room. He didn’t sleep on the couch. He slept on a sleeping bag on the floor by my bed the whole week we were there.

One of those nights, that was when he told me.

Told me how he knew his version of giving then taking and how fuckin’ serious-ass ugly that shit was.

Told me about his parents.

About why he was not in Louisiana but in Indiana and, “We’ll tour one day, brother. But we will not go down there. We will never go down there.”

New Orleans is a party town and it’s a fantastic place. I’ve been there more than once.

But we never played there.

Not once.

He didn’t tell me that to lay a heavy vibe on me.

He told me that so I could rejoice even after my loss.

Preacher had what he had.

My dad cowed to my mom, hated doing it, didn’t hide it, didn’t stop doing it, ended up hating her for it.

But in the end, she stood by his side and she took him to his treatments, and she held his hand when he slipped away and she wept at his funeral holding my hand and Lana’s hand, while me and Preach held onto Penny.

And my dad loved me.

It was fucked up, but it was family.

What Preach had was just fucked up.

So, I got what he was saying.

I felt what he was saying.

Dad was gone and that sucked.

But I’d had a dad like him.

So, I was lucky.