Free A Blue Tale by Sarah Dosher Page B

cheese sandwich, too?” He asked after we’d almost finished eating.
    I nodded.  “Always when I was sick.  To him a grilled cheese fixed anything from a hangnail to a hangover.”
    “Wise man, that father of yours.” He said with a smile before shoving his last bite in his mouth. 
    “Yeah, you two seem to have quite a few things in common.” I told him.
    “Just because I own a blue guitar doesn’t mean I’ll ever measure up to your dad.” He said with his eyes turned down toward his plate.
    “Deacon, you’re just as good as he was, maybe even better.” I told him softly, but the expression on his face said he’d never believe me.
    He shook his head. “No fucking way, Eli. I’ll never be as good as Kirk Savage, I don’t even dream of being that damn talented.”
    “You are, I don’t know who taught you how to play, but you’re damn good.” I said, seemingly more confident of his talent than he was.
    He grunted, “No one taught me how to play, I just learned.  The only possible role models I ever had were ones looking for a free ride funded by the foster care system, and I can promise, of all the places I lived, there were none worth looking up to.”
    “How many different places did you live?” I asked, not sure if he’d be willing to share anymore, but wanting to know more about him.
    “Seven.” He said grimly, his mouth a hard line. “Most before I even started school, though. It’s hard to find anyone willing to take on a young kid with so many issues adjusting, but just before my tenth birthday I was placed in my last home.”
    “You must have liked being able to spend so many years in one home. Do you still see those foster parents?”
    A small smile touched his lips, but his eyes seemed to fill with sadness at the same time. “No, I was actually only there for a few years before I ran away and lived on my own.  They were both deadbeats more interested in sitting around all day, drugged out, than anything I had going on. The man loved your dad though, that’s actually where I first heard your dad’s music and touched my first guitar, so at least he gave me that, right?”
    I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, if he enjoyed drugs, then I’m sure he enjoyed my dad’s music; too often those things seem to go hand in hand. I really hate that.”
    “It’s just…your dad’s music stayed with me when I was at my darkest point, and it ultimately helped me leave a bad life behind for music.  That’s why I have the blue guitar, my way of paying tribute, I guess.” He quickly said.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound otherwise.”
    “No, it’s fine.  I came to terms with that side of my dad a long time ago.  It’s not always easy for me to talk about it, though. I just don’t trust many people.” I admitted.
    He smiled and his face lit up. “I’m glad you trust me because you can; you can trust me with anything.”
    “I feel like I can, especially since you lived through something sorta similar.” He nodded, so I continued. “It took me years to even begin coping with what happened to my dad, but once I saw what a horrible person my mom was on drugs, I was at least thankful my dad hadn’t let his habit ruin us.”
    “I’ll never forget the day I heard about his…what happened—about your dad…” He fumbled for the right words to use instead of having to say “overdose”. People did it all the time, like simply saying the word would somehow cause me pain – as if I hadn’t dealt with the fact my dad was a drug addict long ago.
    “Yeah, it was rough on me for a while, and, of course, my mom made it a million times worse by trying to use me every chance she got. Once dad was gone, I was her ticket to fame and fortune; I honestly think that’s all I ever was to her—a means to an end.  Once I finally got away from her, she turned right back to the same drugs that killed my dad – I assume they’ll kill her one day, too.”
    “That’s how the naked photo