Ethan leaned back in the rocking chair on the porch, tipping back a glistening glass of ice-cold Mountain Dew. He sipped luxuriously, pinky out, and gave an exaggerated ahhhh as the sugary drink settled in his stomach.

  Henry leveled a flat gaze at him as he reached down to scratch Scuppers behind the ears. Henry was, in fact, a dog person. Scuppers’ leg was sporting a clean bandage, and he looked like a completely different dog after they had given him a bath and treated his wounds.

  He’d wasted no time in making himself at home, and even had his own food and water bowls on the porch, courtesy of Henry. His paw rested familiarly on Henry’s foot, and he lounged lazily as the sun began to set.

  “Did you give him that chew toy?” Ethan asked, noticing a bone-shaped squeaky toy that Scuppers was happily gnawing away at.

  “Wasn’t me,” Henry replied as he continued to scratch behind the dog's ears. Ethan shrugged — maybe it somehow made it into the stuff he’d picked up from the store in Azalea. It had been a whirlwind flight from the small town, so he didn’t recall that particular detail.

  Henry hadn’t even hesitated when Ethan skidded to a halt in front of the house, yelling for help. He’d jumped into action immediately to help the injured dog with no questions asked, working in his calm, methodical way as he tended to Scuppers’ wounds.

  Scuppers had immediately taken to the old man, and Ethan could only chide himself at the pang of jealousy when the dog chose to lie down next to the old farmer instead of him. He was glad Henry had taken to Scuppers, and his worries that the dog wouldn’t be welcomed were soon dispelled.

  “My son would drink that crap by the gallon,” Henry said, pointing at the soda in Ethan’s hand. “Stay up all night doin’ God knows what and still somehow managed to get straight A’s in school.”

  Ethan sat in silence, letting the old man talk. He was acutely curious about the old man’s past, though he hesitated to pry, sensing the sorrow woven into the silence surrounding the faded photographs and the dusty memorabilia in Trevor’s old room.

  “Trevor was… well, he was good at darn near everything he put his mind to. Came second in state for wrestling, ya know. Coulda gone to college on a baseball scholarship,” he stated with a hint of pride in his voice. “He was always more interested in computers, though.”

  Henry rocked back and forth in the rocking chair as he lost himself in memories of a time long past, his eyes staring into the middle-distance as he relived visions of the past.

  “He got a full ride to Stanford,” he said, nodding to himself. “Still went to Thompson Farm every weekend to help out and even graduated summa cum laude.”

  “Thompson Farm?” Ethan asked, confused by the statement. “But he was all the way in California, how did he come back here every weekend?”

  Henry started, looking at Ethan as though he’d forgotten he was there. “Well, to tell you the truth, this ain’t the original Thompson Farm,” he said, leaning conspiratorially toward Ethan. “You see, I’m kind of the black sheep of the family, and the original Thompson Farm is in the San Joaquin Valley. Has been for over a hundred years.”

  “No shit?” Ethan exclaimed. “Wait a minute, you’re the black sheep of the family? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well, believe it, son,” he said, his gaze turning steely. “My great sin was in marrying an Asian woman. Pa put me out on my ass after I married Quynh.”

  Ethan’s mouth dropped open in shock. Henry just chuckled at his reaction. “Yessir, my pa fought in the Second World War and couldn’t abide anyone that looked different from him, and especially not anyone Asian.”

  For the first time, Ethan thought he saw a hint of anger in Henry’s eyes. “My pa went to war and found hate. He couldn’t forgive me for going to war and finding love. Idiot man couldn’t even tell the difference between Japanese and Vietnamese.”

  “Oh my God, Henry, I’m so sorry,” Ethan said, unable to mask his disgust.

  Henry only waved a dismissive hand. “He never accepted my marriage to Quynh, but got over his racism right quick when the grandson he’d never met made it into Stanford,” he said, a hint of bitterness tinging his words. “Dumb bastard didn’t realize the kid got all his brains from his momma.”

  They sat in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Ethan was surprised when it was Henry who eventually broke the silence.

  “My son… he and I never could see eye to eye,” he murmured. “I think it was more my fault than his. And by the time I figured it out, it was too late. I’d lost him.”

  “Did he… pass away?” Ethan asked tentatively.

  “Nah,” Henry replied, seeming to ponder for a time before continuing. “His mother, my wife, passed away about six years ago. You see, he and I were like fire and ice, but Quynh… well, she kept us together. When she died, I… we said some hard things to each other.”

  Ethan noticed a glassy sheen in his gaze as he relived the memory. “I’ve only talked to my son once since then. He called to tell me my pa had passed. I… I tried. God, I tried to mend the fence. But it was too little too late, and now he’s…”

  Ethan felt tears well up in his own eyes and a lump forming in his throat. This unshakable man was carrying grief and guilt as deep as his own, and he hadn’t seen it. He’d suspected a sad story, but could never have known. Henry slumped back into his chair, clearly done speaking on the subject.

  Ethan took a deep breath. If he can open up, so can I, he thought, bolstering his courage.

  “My, um, mom,” Ethan started, his voice cracking, forcing him to stop and collect himself. “She had a hard life. My dad was… well, he was an animal.”

  Henry’s steady gaze bored into him, seeing the soul Ethan bared to him now.

  “We finally got away,” Ethan said, his voice tinged with a sad smile. “Just kept driving until her old car gave out. And for a while there… we had a good run. She was the best mom — funny, fierce, always looking out for me. You’d have liked her, Henry. You really would’ve.”

  Henry nodded, offering a quiet, understanding smile that gave Ethan the courage to go on.

  “She’s the one who taught me how to cook. How to be kind. How to punch a bully in the nose,” he added with a soft laugh. “Then came the diagnosis… and nine months later, she was gone.” Ethan breathed in a shuddering breath.

  “The doctors gave her three, but she was tough. Stubborn, really. I think she held on for me. Even so, it was so quick. She was gone so fast.”

  Tears flowed freely now, but Ethan didn’t care. “I… I don’t think I’ve been quite right since I lost her. I’ve been too scared to do much of anything since she died. Hell, it took the world ending for me to even have a goal bigger than just surviving the day,” he said bitterly.

  “I just fucking miss her,” Ethan sobbed, burying his face in his hands. He hadn’t intended to share so much, but the hurt pushed its way out of him and wrapped icy fingers around his neck. Like it had done many times since his mom passed.

  There was one difference this time around.

  A strong, weathered hand gently rested on his shoulder. Ethan looked up and saw that Henry had silently risen to his feet and walked over to him. He pulled Ethan up and locked him in a fierce hug. Ethan resisted at first. He’d lose Henry, too. His survival instinct, born of his past traumas, screamed at him to push away — to protect himself from the pain that came from losing someone you loved.

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  Henry seemed to sense it and pulled him in tighter. And finally… finally, Ethan let go. He gave in to what his heart had been screaming for years: he wanted to love and be loved. Needed it. Deserved it. His arms wrapped around the old farmer, clutching him like a lifeline as he buried his face in Henry’s chest. The sobs came hard, shaking him to his core, but Henry held firm, solid, unmoving, safe.

  “Hey now,” Henry said soothingly. “You’re the Comeback Kid, remember? Ain’t nothin’ this world has to throw at ya that you ain’t gonna overcome. And you know what? It’s okay to miss her. That sadness is a gift, because it means you truly loved her. We honor our loved ones when we miss them.”

  Henry held him tighter, and for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt like he had come home.

  Ethan and Henry talked well into the night. Sharing stories of their lost loved ones and the things they learned from them. Henry had grown up on a farm in the San Joaquin Valley that he described as a paradise.

  “You could drop seeds on the ground and they would sprout,” he’d said with a wistfulness in his eyes that Ethan could tell ran deep. He talked for a long time about how perfect that farm was and how he’d tried his best to make his own farm modeled after it.

  It turned out that Henry’s wife had also lost the battle with cancer, slowly declining over several years with Henry as her caregiver. She’d kept her spirits up until the very end, where she passed peacefully in their home.

  “Fuck cancer,” Ethan had said. “Fuck cancer,” Henry agreed.

  Even though they had stayed up late, Ethan awoke the next day feeling refreshed and like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He drew strength from the bond he and Henry now had, and he trotted across the lawn toward his garden planters with renewed vigor.

  Scuppers limped along behind him, taking a long time to cross the distance. The eager pup had watched Henry set off for the fields earlier that morning, looking like he wished he could go with him, but still too injured to roam that far. Henry had informed him he’d be on the tractor today, something that Ethan was interested to learn, but Henry had encouraged him to focus on his garden project before taking on anything else.

  Ethan knelt next to Joel and beckoned Scuppers over. “Scuppers, I’d like you to meet Joel. Joel, meet Scuppers. He’s your new brother. They were all out of Stuart Littles, sorry.”

  Scuppers gave Joel a sniff and flicked out his tongue to lap at one of Joel’s leaves. Ethan chuckled and reached out to scratch behind Scuppers’ ears affectionately and gave him a kiss on the head before standing up. Ethan began to stretch, preparing to give the garden beds’ soil a much-needed overhaul.

  “All right, boys, let’s do this,” Ethan said in his best action hero voice as he dramatically pulled on his work gloves and snatched up his hoe. Henry had been kind enough to mix the fertilizer into the compost while Ethan had been giving Scuppers a bath, so he was able to jump right into mixing the concoction into the soil.

  “Ya see now, Scuppers,” Ethan said in his best Henry imitation as he spread the compost over the first planter. “Ya gotta make sure you get compost and fertilizer to make sure your crops grow big and strong.” Scuppers stood close by, his head cocked in curiosity and his tail wagging amiably as he watched Ethan toiling away.

  He mixed the dirt with his hoe, the earth turning a rich, dark color as he churned it thoroughly. He’d scrubbed the hoe vigorously at the outdoor spigot to get the remains of the monster blood off. Not only did the hoe need to be clean for the work he was doing, he wasn’t sure Henry would appreciate seeing his wife’s former tool covered in blood.

  “The compost feeds the soil, making it rich in nutrients and better at holding in water, Mr. Scupperino,” Ethan explained to Scuppers, who was attentively listening. “Meanwhile, the fertilizer is like steroids for Joel, so don’t be jealous when he’s freaking jacked and you’re still just a pup.”

  Ethan labored tirelessly through the morning, relishing the heat in his muscles and the company of the inquisitive dog at his side. When he saw Henry returning from the fields for lunch, Scuppers made his way to the old man as fast as he could in his hobbled state. Henry bent down and affectionately petted the dog, making sure to get behind his ears.

  “I’ll be right there, Henry!” Ethan called, raising a hand in greeting. Ethan was on a roll and didn’t want to stop before completing the final step before planting. He yanked over the long, industrial-grade hose and watered each planter in turn, spending more or less time on each one depending on what he intended to plant there.

  The smell of wet earth filled his nostrils, and his excitement grew as his goal of actually planting seeds in the ground drew closer. Once he was done, he washed his hands with the hose and ran around the front of the farmhouse to join Henry and Scuppers for lunch.

  Ethan scaled the porch two steps at a time, a noticeable pep in his step.

  "Yer awfully proud of yourself for someone who spent all mornin’ making mud,” Henry drawled, his voice dry. He’d already finished eating his sandwich and was now idly munching on mixed nuts. With a practiced motion, he scooped up a handful, gave them a reflexive shake in his fist before tossing them into his mouth.

  “Ho ho, good one, old man, but nothing will get me down today,” Ethan said cheerily as he sat down and bit into his sandwich. He noticed Scuppers had yet another chew toy — this one in the shape of a cob of corn.

  “Wasn’t that chew toy a bone?” Ethan asked, his head cocked quizzically. Scuppers looked up at him and seemed to give him a dog version of a shrug.

  That dog is way too smart to be normal, he thought with a shake of his head.

  “Anyway, I wanted to run my plan past you to see what you think.” Ethan extracted a folded piece of paper from his pocket and extended it toward Henry. The old man took it, studying his chicken scratch writing.

  The paper had nine boxes, almost like a tic-tac-toe board, in which Ethan had written the names of various plants he planned to sow in the garden beds. He’d even included a few doodles for illustrative purposes.

  Henry’s face scrunched up in consternation before he looked up seriously at Ethan.

  “There is no way on God’s green earth that you are planting marijuana on my farm, son,” he reprimanded sternly.

  “What the hell? What are you talking about?” Ethan asked as he looked over Henry’s shoulder at his plans. Henry jabbed a finger at one of his doodles of a leaf. “No, Henry, that’s a mint leaf! I swear, I would never-” Ethan cut off as he saw the mischievous gleam in the old man’s eye.

  “Ah, man, not cool, dude,” Ethan pronounced as he took his seat again. “Maybe I should grow some of the devil’s lettuce just to spite you.”

  Henry only chuckled at his own joke before studying the diagram again.

  “Hand me your pen,” he said, extending a hand. “Good start, but I’ll save you some heartache.”

  In less than a minute, Henry had updated the diagram to reflect a more optimized design. He turned it toward Ethan to show him the changes:

  “Mint doesn’t play nice with other plants,” he said, gesturing to the bottom middle square. “It’ll need its own planter. You could plant different types of mint there, like peppermint, spearmint — but that’s it.” Ethan nodded along, trusting the seasoned farmer’s expertise.

  “Put some garlic or chives by the raspberries to deter pests…”

  Henry proceeded to explain his reasoning behind the changes he’d made, once again revealing his deep knowledge of living things. There was a synergy needed to achieve an ideal ecosystem for his plants to flourish that made Ethan’s head spin. He was glad to have Henry there to help. At first glance, the task appeared simple, but he was having trouble remembering everything.

  “Just do the job that’s in front of ya,” Henry said placidly when Ethan shared his concern.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ethan said, nodding along to Henry’s words. “I just want to get it right.”

  Henry only grunted and slapped his knees before standing, Scuppers following his lead.

  “We’ll need to get some gasoline soon. I’m just about empty on my tractor,” Henry said, changing the subject.

  “We should just bring a whole fuel truck here,” Ethan said eagerly. “I saw one on the way to Azalea. Henry gave an affirmative grunt and made his way down the steps, pausing to look back.

  “Oh, and for what it’s worth,” he said with that mischievous gleam in his eye. “My wife’s herb garden included some of the more… recreational herbs.” Without another word, he strode away. Ethan’s mouth dropped open in shock. After a moment, he burst into raucous laughter, holding his sides as he cackled.

  He continued to chuckle heartily as he jumped down the steps and made his way back to the garden planters.