Simple Man by Lydia Michaels Page A

tons of people sitting around reading books and drinking enormous cups of coffee. It’s weird. I think a bunch of hippies are trying to phase out bars with cafes. It’ll never work.”
    Their conversation had gone on about twice as long as it should have. “Okay, well, I gotta go. I’ll catch up with you later.” They walked each other outside and got into their separate cars.
    The only bookstore Shane knew of was far, so he drove past the library first. Sims was right. It was closed. He was also right about the coffee and books thing. Nobody seemed to have any hang-ups about reading a book that wasn’t paid for, so he found the first book on the list, What to Expect-Baby’s First Year .
    The book was huge, bigger than the Bible. Shane thumbed through it and saw a bunch of words he didn’t understand. He’d need to read a dictionary alongside it. Within twenty minutes he was completely overwhelmed.
    He looked at the back of the book. Twenty bucks! He really didn’t want to buy it, but it seemed like there was a ton of shit to know about babies. The smell of caffeinated drinks and paper was giving him a headache so he took the book to the register.
    The cashier rang him up and smiled. “Would you like a gift receipt?”
    “No, it’s for me,” he said and slid her his debit card.
    “Oh.” She swiped his card and lowered her face, eyes wide. What was that look about?
    Shane looked around and spotted a father and son. That dad wore a sweater vest and khakis. His hair was short and spikey in a totally manicured way. Shane looked down and took in his own appearance. Jeans, work boots, a worn cotton T, coupled with his thick, dark hair hanging past his shoulders—he was definitely not meeting society’s standard of fatherly figures.
    He frowned. Was there some rule if you were a dad you had to look like a Circuit City sales associate? He didn’t fit that bill, nor did he want to. There was no way he was going to change to meet some social standard. He’d be a cool dad and little Shane would be a cool kid. End of story.
    Once his purchase was bagged, he headed back to the truck. Did two month olds crawl? If so, he probably should clean up his place a bit. He should probably do that anyway. He headed home and began doing the usual Sunday bag up of trash.
    As he worked his mind went to thoughts of his sister. What kind of mother was she? Did she like having a child? Was it hard? Was she good at it? He wanted to be a good dad. His father was a good dad, always making him feel safe and confident.
    Shane remembered being a little kid and thinking his dad could do anything. Shane was seventeen when the train derailed, and his first thought was why didn’t his dad do something to stop it? Thirty some people injured, four dead, and his parents were half of the casualties.
    In terms of the accident, he’d been able to think of his father, but never his mother. She was so delicate and soft. She always smelled like cookies and sunshine. Her hugs were the best and what he missed most. Even at twenty-seven he missed his mom’s hugs.
    Did Noel give good hugs? Shane decided he would hug little Shane as much as he could since his little counterpart probably missed his mom’s hugs too.
    It was nine o’clock by the time he got the trailer somewhat clean. By the door was an enormous pile of laundry, but he didn’t have the energy for that. Shane grabbed a beer and the remote and settled onto the couch.
    Sniffing the air, his lip curled. There was a silent but deadly smell coming from one of the cushions. He really needed to get new furniture.
    Before he forgot, he texted his foreman and told him he’d be out tomorrow. His eyes drooped as he stared at the television and, before he knew it, annoying infomercials were waking him up. He shut off the television and curled onto his side, wincing and gagging when his face brushed against the unidentified smell on the couch.
    The following morning was strangely anticlimactic. He