“You’re just saying that in the hopes that my good heart and philanthropist spirit will earn you brownie points?”
“Nope, I’m serious. It’s all straight answers from here on out.”
“So, you really would have drunk piss if I made it a condition of the sale?”
“Yes, sir, I believe I would have.”
“What’s with the sir stuff? You’re from the north, son, not further south than we already are.”
“Just wanted to be respectful, I guess.”
“Alright then. You can keep on calling me ‘sir.’ I kind of like it.” Silas shifts with a rustle of plaid and blue jeans. Yes, he’s that hip that he’s in his nineties and can still rock a pair of jeans and a good old button-down with snaps—buffalo plaid. Nice and trendy.
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
“Lucky for you, you don’t have to drink piss. Not now, not tomorrow, and not ever, unless you have a fancy for doing it.”
“I don’t think I ever will unless I get lost in some backwoods area and need to survive or something. I’ve heard that a human can drink their own…erm, never mind.”
Silas looks more amused at my words than grossed out. “Interesting. Interesting. I think if I got lost, I might just lay down and die. Won’t be long now anyway, or so everyone keeps saying. Jesus, you get past ninety, and people keep looking at you every other second like they expect you to up and kick it from one minute to the next.”
“I’m sure you’ll live past a hundred.”
“Ha! Who would want to with the world going to shit the way it has? No, I’d be happy enough in the ground. I’m certain of that. I don’t care what comes next unless I come back and have to do this shit all over again. Not that I can complain much. I’ve had a pretty good run of things this go-round, so maybe coming back wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe…never mind. The car. We’re talking about the car.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm, well, I have an offer for you. If you’re willing to drink…uh…never mind. If you’re willing to do just about anything or pay just about anything, I think you’ll be willing to do this.”
I sit back and wait because suddenly, Silas has a sort of devious gleam in those big, shockingly clear blue eyes of his. Back in the day, I bet this guy raised some hell and then some. If Silas got stranded somewhere, even right now at ninety-two, he wouldn’t drink his own urine. He’d probably bushcraft up a shelter, kill something with his bare hands, and command water to spring from the ground with just a single, urgent look, and it would. It freaking would because Silas just has that kind of presence. Maybe it’s got to do with the fact that he’s nearly a century old, and when someone grows to be that old, you should listen because they probably know a thing or two more than you do.
“Okay…” I say, more than a little uncertain now. I’m half afraid—with all this talk about urine—of what Silas has dreamed up for me. I get some pretty vivid images of every horror movie I’ve unfortunately sat through. God, there’s some fucked up shit out there.
“It’s nothing bad.” Silas must have noted my expression. “Nothing bad at all. In fact, it has to do with my great-granddaughter. She happens to be my favorite human on this planet. If I had to come back and do life all over again, I hope I get to come back as something or someone who knows her because she’s worth knowing. She’s a good girl, a wonderful girl. The only problem is, she refuses to settle down, and I’m worried about her. She’s a nurturer. Takes care of animals, see? She has a good heart. She’s been hurt in the past because her heart is too big and full, and now, she’s cautious. Burned once, fuck the fire, you know what I mean?”
It’s slightly jarring to hear someone so old and sweet-looking drop the f-bomb, but what the heck. That’s alright with me. A good f-bomb every now and then flavors a sentence right up like oregano does to sauce or bay leaves do to soup.
“I…I suppose I do know what you mean.”
“Anyway, she’s stubborn now. Thinks she’s going to make it on her own. I don’t doubt she would too, but I know her, and I know she wouldn’t be happy like that. She’s got too big a heart to spend the rest of her life alone. Thing is, I’ve always tried to look out for her, and I’ve loved her like a father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. She calls me Pappy S. I like that. Sounds kind of gangster, don’t you think?”
“It does have a gangster ring to it.”
“Not as gangster as drinking your own bodily fluids.”