Searching through the house for a phone number. On the gunmetal fridge, he finds the name “Blake,” with a phone number beside it. Thinks he’ll make contact with the mysterious son. Last thing Hunter wants is to leave Sid alone with his demons tonight. Making the call, he explains who he is. That he had gone out with Blake’s father. That Sid had had episode after episode at the local VFW and that Hunter feels he is maybe getting worse. That he thinks someone should come stay with him, seeing as he’d been drinking.

It eats away at Hunter. His father had always told him to trust your gut. Don’t leave things unattended or you might live to regret it later. And they never left his grandfather unattended. Hunter would never forgive himself if he were to leave and Sid created a situation that caused him to bring harm to himself or others.

Waiting for Blake to arrive, Itch and Nugget keep an eye on Sid, who brakes out a deck of cards, and they start playing euchre at a table in the living room. Beams cut through the dark, flashing across the windows, throwing shadows on the walls of Sid’s house. Hunter opens the front door, and everyone stares in surprise. Hunter shakes his hand. He feels as though he has reached into a mirror, and his reflection has met him halfway.

“Thanks for calling,” Blake said.

“Not a problem. Really didn’t think it was safe to leave your dad here alone.”

“Agreed. I do worry about him. But he refuses to move in with me.” Blake comes inside, looks at Sid seated across from Itch. “How we doing, Pop?”

“Oh, I was hoping to get about three sheets to the wind, but this peckerwood and his buddies thought I was acting a fool. Brought me home, and you know the rest. Now I’m trying to learn them on euchre.”

“I see.” Blake tells Sid.

Itch and Nugget nod, smile, and say, “What’s up?” Then Blake says to Hunter, “Heard a lot about you.”

Hunter tries not to stare, but the kid is a younger version of him. And he tells Blake, “Funny, I never knew about you.”

“My grandparents raised me at first. Little bit of bad blood between Pop and Mom around the time I was born. They eventually worked things out. Travis and I talk, but we’re so far from having any common interest, it’s just words filling the time.”

“I hear that. So you live and work around the area?”

“Live down in Marengo. Got a custom bike shop up in Paoli. Saw your-all’s bikes out front. Some sweet fuckin’ Harleys.”

The coincidence is unsettling. His appearance, and a bike shop to boot. Hunter says, “Thanks. We’re all gearheads. I do custom work too.”

“Small world. But you no longer live around here?”