cousin blake

I had just turned 18 in May, when my father's second cousin came to live with us. I remember it well. It was a warm sunny afternoon when his truck pulled into the driveway. I was outside playing basketball with another guy from down the street. I had always looked up to my cousin Blake and he had always been more like an uncle to me, since I didn't have any. He and my father were best friends since they were just children and had each other to play with.

Blake was a year younger than my father and a good-looking man for his age. He was 32 and sort of tall. He was nearly six feet and had short auburn hair. He was a typical farm boy with the lean body to match. Like my father, he normally wore faded tight wranglers and t-shirts. He could have his pick from most of the women in town, as he had a charming smile to match the great body and good looks. But on this day, he looked different that I had ever seen him. His eyes looked bloodshot from crying and he held his head low as he got out of the truck and hurried into the house. I tried to not think about what was wrong and just continue to play basketball with my friend. But, I couldn't ignore it. I told David that I had to go and check on things and rushed him out of the yard. I walked around into the backyard and stood against the house trying to hide myself from Blake and my father. They were both sitting outside on the deck behind our house talking. Blake was pacing back and forth while my father listened attentively. I struggled to hear what they were saying but couldn't make out much. After a few more moments, I gave up and went inside the house to my room. Nearly and hour later, I heard Blake's truck start up and watched him pull out of the driveway from my window upstairs. I turned around to find my father standing in the doorway to my room. " Um, Jeff, I need to talk with you for a minute," He said and walked over, sitting down on my bed and motioning for me to come closer.