Twenty-six days ago, Chicago.

Kyle leaned back in the chair that used to belong to grandfather. It had been reupholstered, re-stuffed, and other than the cigarette burns in the wood on the arms, it looked as he always remembered it. His eyes drifted closed, remembering the good times his family had, and how his grandfather and grandmother stayed behind when the opportunity rose for his father?s business in Rhy?Din. He remembered the old man?s pride in building Ford trucks, then cars before retiring from the Torrence Avenue Assembly plant.

?Nothing for me out there, Son. I was born here, I?ll die here.? The old man had said as they were readying to leave on their big family adventure. Six years later they returned for the funeral.

The room was the exact way his grandparent?s had left it. A 1978 Cubs schedule on the wall next to the chair in which he sat, and his grandmother?s knitting basket next to the chair she sat in. The Lakeview area had changed since he was a kid, but no matter the money offered, he just wouldn?t sell the house. It was his escape. Every year at least, sometimes more he would come back unwind and enjoy what he still considered his home.

A soft knock at the front door made him open one eye and glance toward the clock. They were right on time, as usual. He stood and moved for the door of the house and looked out the small window at the top. The kid was young, and it was probably his first job, the Panino?s hat was a bit crooked and too large for his head. Kyle pulled open the door and looked down as the kid looked up.

?Hey man, thin crust peperoni and chicken marsala?? He asked. His voice was barely louder than his knock.

Kyle reached for his wallet and passed the kid the payment for his food and a nice tip. ?Stay safe out there, huh?? The kid looked at him with big eyes after he realized the tip with his payment was more than he made in a week, usually.

?Hey, thanks man.? The kid smiled, waved and started for his little truck with a spring in his step. Kyle remembered when the little things meant that much to him. The door was pushed closed and locked before walking toward the kitchen with the boxes.

A bottle of beer was taken out of the fridge, and placed on the table next to the plain, white plate. The pizza box was opened first and a large slice taken from within. Just as he was about to take a bite, his phone rang. He scowled and put the thin slice on the plate and picked up his phone and look at the name, Deacon.

?Yeah?? Kyle answered.
?Where are you??
?You know where I am.?
?Oh, I forgot. Look, I hate to ask??
?Then don?t.?
?You want to stay there with ghosts??
?Screw you, Deke.? Kyle picked up the slice and took a bite, chewing noisily.
?I need your help.?
?It?ll wait.? Kyle opened the top on the beer and took a swallow.
?I need help.?
?Admission is the first step,? He said as he looked around the pale yellow and white kitchen.
?You are in rare form,? Deke said with a sigh. ?Nothing I can do to change your mind??
?Look, this is my time,? Kyle said. ?I come back here to see my sister, and unwind from all the crap that goes on around there. She?s about to have another kid, and I will be here for the birth of my new niece.?
?She?s having another one? What is that, four??
?Three Deke, this is number three. Allison Renee.?
?I wonder what Caitlin and I will have,? Deke said, his voice quiet.

?Who knows, but if you are going to be a father, you need to grow the flick up.? Kyle snapped. ?Understand that the world doesn?t revolve around you.?
?You are a dick when you are on vacation.?
?Only when you call, telling me you need help.?
?Fine, it will wait until you come back.?
?Great,? Kyle said as he pushed the end button on the phone.

He wasn?t going to give Deke an in, like he always had in the past, and let him talk him into coming home early from his trip. Allison was going to see her Uncle before her second birthday. She wouldn?t be asking her mother who he was when he saw her next time. The slice of pizza was picked up and he took another bite. As he reached for the beer his phone rang again.

?What the hell do you want?? He nearly shouted into the phone, thinking it was Deke again.
?Uh, Kyle?? His brother in law Tim asked. ?Catch you at a bad time??
?Christ, no?sorry Tim, what?s up?? Kyle tried to play it off.
?You okay?? Tim asked, with concern. They may have had differences when they were younger, but there was an understanding now. If he hurt Kyle?s sister, Kyle would bury him in the family plot.
?Yeah, no. I?m good. My boss was on the phone a minute ago and asking me stuff I didn?t know the answer to.? He hated to lie to family.
?Oh. Bosses can be dicks.? Tim chuckled. ?Hey, we are heading to the hospital, she?s been having some pains and we want to be safe.?
?She okay? The baby and stuff?? A million scenarios were running through his mind.
?Yeah, she?s okay but she?s getting her bag and I?m starting the car, but need to go help her.?
?What hospital??
?Rush, they?ve got a Women?s Health thing there.?
?I?ll find it and meet you there.?
?Come on man, you just got in town, relax until we know something.? Tim was possibly the nicest guy Kyle knew, especially since he?d gotten him out of some trouble.

?I am not missing the possible birth of my niece,? Kyle said. ?Are you bringing Kevin and Trin?? He asked while putting the pizza slice back into the box. ?Have you eaten? I just got some pizza, I can bring. It may be cold but better than hospital food.?
?Paninos?? Tim asked.
?You know it.?
?Bring it with you.? He said with another laugh. ?The kids are staying with my mom and dad but you?ve got to see them before you leave.?
?Don?t worry, this trip is all about family. See you soon.?

Tommy's had been uneventful. The bag said nothing as Kyle worked with hard jabs and well placed body blows. It took the beating from the anger that had welled up in him as he spoke of Deacon and was reminded again that family was important, yet rarely seen.

He was walking down the street, gym back over one shoulder lost in thought until he found himself in the familiar green, neon light glow of Odell's Pub. He pushed the door in and as soon as he walked in Mike, the owner let out a string of curses.

"As I live an' breathe, ya ain't dead!" Mike left his place behind the bar and walked over to bear hug the younger man. The owner was well past seventy, and still the biggest, toughest guy Kyle had ever known. "I thought the devil himself done took ya to the pit, Boy!" He clapped a hand on Kyle's shoulder then said to the meager crowd. "Drinks are on da house!" Of course the drunks cheered and others looked at Kyle, wondering what was so special that a cheap bastard like Mike would pour a few rounds for free.

"How ya been, Mikey?" Kyle slid onto a bar stool and nodded to the other guys looking his way.

"Eh, ya know Boy. I'm making it." Mike had been 'making it' for years. "Fellas, this is Kyle Wasek. He coulda been the pitcher for da cubs, but a motorcycle wreck ended his dream." The men seemed excited at first, then sorry for Kyle. The loss of a dream seems to have that effect on people.

Kyle frowned, the shoulder was never injured, and the bike wreck he walked away from. Just like his hometown, and he did it all for Deacon and the money he made with the man. Deke offered him more than a pitcher could make in a year, and like a fool he took it.

The boilermaker was placed in front of him with a slap on the bar. "Fellas, a toast to my boy, Kyle!" Mike lifted his bottle of water, while others lifted their fresh drinks of choice and everyone shouted, "To Kyle!"

Kyle sat at the bar, talking to Mike about how much things had changed, what had been going on, mostly, with his life and how work had been treating him. He had been lying so long, it disgusted him how easily the words fell from his mouth.

"The recession hit everyone hard, Mikey. I had to start over twice." Kyle picked up his coffee and took a sip as Mike nodded. "So many people faired much worse than I did."

Mike listened while cleaning the bar. The crowd had all but gone, save for two guys watching the small old TV on the back of the bar, calling the boxers bums and saying how they would do things differently.

"Ya know, I nearly had to shut my doors, Boy. It was bad. I mean I own this place, but no one was buyin'. No one had money ta come in for even a beer." Mike offered. "Broke me heart, thinking of these doors closin'. Ted Abernathy sat right there where you are. The bat up here has signatures dating from the thirties, when my Da started collectin' them." Mike loved his sports. "Ditka and the team came in one night, just because to hang out with their fans. History lives in this building, Boy."

Kyle always liked hearing Mike's stories. He knew there weren't going to be many more years of sharing tales with the older guy. "I know man. You can't shut this place down. If it's money, I can..."

Mike held up his hand. "You just told me that you were strugglin' too." He interrupted. "Maybe it's time I retire."

"Don't say that. Where am I going to get stew in the winter?" Kyle smiled and lifted his coffee. "Or the best cup of coffee in Chicago?"

"Go to a soup kitchen and Starbucks, Ya bum!" Mike's answer to that made them both laugh. "You should quit your high and mighty job and come work for me. Sling drinks and keep the history."

Kyle shook his head, laughing. "Right, people come here for you and your stories. What the hell would I tell them?"

Mike smiled and was about to say something when a couple staggered in through the door. The male was an inch and fifty pounds lighter than Kyle, the female, obviously was a working girl. They were laughing loudly and had seen more than just drinking for the night.

"Can I get you a drink?" Mike asked as his hand dropped below the bar. Kyle knew there was another bat, well used for busting heads and a sawed off Remington Room Howitzer.

"Beer for me, and where's the can in this joint?" The man asked as he looked at the drunks, then Mike and finally Kyle.

"Bog's in the back." Mike jerked a thumb. "The lady wants a drink?" He eyed her and she nodded.

"Shot of Jim, please." Her voice was small, barely heard over the boxing match on the old TV.

The beer, and the shot were placed on the bar, and Mike watched as the couple moved to the back, before turning back to look at Kyle. "He was packin'."

"Yeah, looks like at least a .40." Kyle agreed and watched as the couple disappeared into the men's room. "They also just went into the Men's."

"Ah, let 'em go at it. I was young once." Mike said with a chuckle. "Besides, I just hose the room out anyway."

"That's nasty, Mike." Kyle said with another chuckle. "Now, who do I have to kill for another cup of coffee in this joint?" His hands instantly came up as he knew what Mike's reaction would be. The older man moved to stand in front of Kyle and he took several swings at the younger man playfully.

"The day you ever thinkin' about takin' me out, even in a dream, you better wake up and apologize."

They laughed and continued their game until they heard a muffled scream from the back.

Mike looked at Kyle and started to go back toward the restrooms.

"Mike, you call the cops if I am not back in five. Deal?" Kyle said as he slid from the stool.

"That guy, he could be dangerous." Mike had concern all over his face.

"So am I," Kyle grinned. "The heavy bag just wasn't therapeutic tonight, maybe bouncing a drunk will be." He rolled his neck to the side and started walking toward the back.