Hank's Arc

Chapter 6 of 14

Queen V. was just leaving when Paul came across the yard. She stopped at the edge of the platform and waved him over. Hank watched from the picnic table, bottle in hand. The golden creatures were still there, spinning near the wooden edge like they owned the place. Queen V. asked Paul if he saw anything strange on the platform. Hank set down his beer and walked over, his chest tight. This was the test. If Paul saw them too, then maybe the creatures were real and not just the beer talking. Paul squinted at the wooden boards covered with empty bottles and overgrown weeds creeping up through the cracks. He pointed at a nail sticking out from the side. "Just that," he said. "Should probably hammer it down before someone gets hurt." The creatures kept dancing right in front of him, golden and foam-edged, completely invisible to his eyes. Queen V. looked at Hank. Her face had gone pale. They both understood what this meant. The creatures were theirs alone. Hank felt something drop in his stomach, heavier than disappointment. He'd wanted proof, wanted someone else to confirm what they'd seen. Instead he got the opposite. "We should talk," Queen V. said quietly. She nodded toward the old shed near the garden beds. Paul shrugged and headed back toward the house. Inside the shed, surrounded by bags of soil and rusted tools, they stood in silence for a moment. Finally Hank said what they were both thinking. "Maybe we do have a drinking problem." Queen V. nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe we do." It wasn't the kind of admission Hank thought he'd ever make out loud, but there it was. The creatures had felt like magic, like his land was something special. Now they just felt like a warning. He thought about the beer garden, about people gathering in the evening, about pouring drinks for a crowd. The dream was still there, but it looked different now. Queen V. met his eyes. "The permit still matters," she said. "But we need to figure this out first." Hank agreed. For the first time since the county denied him two years ago, the beer garden wasn't the most important thing he had to deal with.