Chapter 41: No Good News Comes from a Late-Night Call
Chapter 41: No Good News Comes from a Late-Night Call
After returning to the warehouse from New Mexico, I made good use of the free time I had for the first time in a while.
I took Dusty out for a long walk, then went to the gym where I had a membership and finished both my workout and shower.
Then, just as I cracked open a can to have one last beer before bed—
Bzzzt, bzzzt, bzzzt—
The phone on the shelf vibrated.
Noah? What does he want at this hour?
I set down the beer and answered the call first.
“Hello, Noah?”
“Jason…”
Unlike me, who had answered cheerfully, Noah’s voice trembled harshly.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you okay? Did something happen?”
At that moment, there was a rustling sound, as though someone had taken the phone from Noah, followed by a man’s deep voice.
“Ah, hello. This is the Phoenix Police Department.”
The police department?
It felt as though my blood had suddenly turned cold.
A taut tension I had never once felt in daily life since leaving the Navy SEALs surged through my entire body.
“Noah Reed was picked up for violating curfew and is waiting to be released to a guardian.”
However, as the officer continued explaining, I let out a relieved breath and rubbed my chest.
Arizona law prohibited minors from being out without a guardian after ten at night.
Apparently, Noah had been stopped by a passing officer while walking home from the bus stop.
In cases like this, they were usually released with a warning once their legal guardian was contacted, but it happened to be a night when Rachel was working the night shift.
“I’ll come right away.”
Vroom—screeeech—
It was nothing serious. I did not know why he had been out alone at that hour, but they said he was not hurt anywhere.
Even so, once I got behind the wheel and pulled onto the road, I realized I needed to calm myself down first.
Without noticing, I kept pressing harder on the accelerator.
Noah’s trembling voice.
The image of him sitting on a cold plastic chair in the station’s holding area kept surfacing in my mind.
Damn it…
The Silverado’s orange headlights tore roughly through the pitch-black desert road.
Hiss—
The thick glass doors of the Phoenix Fourth Precinct slid apart with a cold mechanical sound.
The interior was filled with bluish fluorescent light, and the distinct smell of floor wax found in government buildings stung my nose.
Behind the front desk, a heavily built sergeant wearing glasses was leafing through paperwork.
Thud, thud, thud—
The heels of my work boots struck the polished floor in quick succession, breaking the silence, but the sergeant did not even look up.
“Excuse me. I’m here to pick up Noah Reed.”
Only then did the sergeant adjust his thick glasses and raise his head.
“Your name?”
“Jason Kwon. K-W-O-N.”
I took my ID out of my wallet and placed it on the desk.
The sergeant, whose name tag read Bens over the right side of his chest, looked back and forth between my face and the ID several times before narrowing his eyes.
“Jason Kwon… Hmm. You’re not his biological father. As a rule, a legal guardian must come in person to pick him up…”
An Asian man and a white boy. On top of that, we had different last names.
The discrepancy hardened the sergeant’s expression.
“You can run a background check if you need to. I should also be registered with his school as a trusted adult for emergencies.”
I took out the dog tags I normally never showed anyone and placed them on the desk as well.
The metallic clink rang out with unusual bluntness.
The ID I had handed him—my driver’s license—already had the word “Veteran” printed in one corner.
Sergeant Bens must have seen it.
However, the reason I deliberately took out my military tags as well was to erase any doubts about my identity at once.
America was a society built on credit.
And that credit worked differently depending on the person and the situation.
Police officers and soldiers shared a strange sense of camaraderie. In fact, many police officers had military backgrounds themselves.
Revealing that I was a veteran inside a police station could serve as an appeal that said, I’m a trustworthy citizen whose character has been vouched for by the country—just like you.
Just as the sergeant’s expression softened and he was about to speak, an officer carrying a mug walked out from the back.
“Huh…? Jason? What are you doing here?”
It was an energetic voice completely out of place in this tense, fatigue-soaked space.
It was Andrew.
“Andrew! So this is your precinct. A friend’s kid violated curfew, so I came to pick him up. I’m close with his mother, but she’s working the night shift and can’t be reached…”
Seeing a familiar face in such a tense situation immediately put me at ease.
“Really? Hey, Bens! Let him go already. I’ll vouch for him. This guy wasn’t just in the military—he was a SEAL. He’s even eaten at my house.”
“…Really?”
Only then did the stiffness in Sergeant Bens’s shoulders ease.
Andrew’s overwhelming ability to get along with everyone apparently worked even on strict officers like Bens.
“Ahem… Go ahead and take him. Give him a talking-to on the way home.”
Pretending to yield reluctantly, Bens stamped the paperwork and jerked his chin toward the back.
“Andrew, I’ll call you next time. Thanks, really.”
“What are you thanking me for? You’re the one having a rough night.”
I gave Andrew a slight nod and quickly headed toward the waiting area.
“Noah.”
The boy, who had been curled up on a hard plastic chair, slowly raised his head.
His eyes were bloodshot, and none of his usual boldness remained.
“Jason…”
After confirming that it was me, he spoke in a barely audible voice. Relief and guilt were both visible in his eyes.
They were emotions too heavy for a boy who had only just turned sixteen.
I lightly tapped his trembling shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
Noah silently lowered his head and followed me out.
On the way home, he leaned his head against the truck window and stared at the streetlights passing by in a steady rhythm.
“What happened?”
I broke the brief silence first.
He clearly did not want to talk, but I could not simply take him home without asking.
Noah continued staring out the window without moving, then slowly parted his lips.
“…I was coming home from work. At a restaurant nearby.”
“Work? You mean a part-time job?”
“Yes…”
“Does Rachel know about it?”
I carefully controlled my tone so it would not sound like an interrogation. Even so, I could not help sounding somewhat stiff.
“No. I lied and told Mom I was doing a project at a friend’s house. They said the night shift paid more…”
My grip tightened around the steering wheel.
After Daniel was killed in action, the survivor’s pension Rachel received from the Department of Veterans Affairs came to only about seventeen hundred dollars a month.
(Translator’s Note: Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) — A U.S. federal department established in its current cabinet-level form in 1989. It administers healthcare, pensions, disability compensation, and survivor benefits for eligible veterans and their families.)
That was nearly the cost of rent for a two-bedroom apartment in Phoenix, so it was no wonder Rachel worked tirelessly, day and night.
That was the only way she could barely make ends meet while raising a sixteen-year-old boy.
“If it’s because of money, I can—”
“No. That’s not the only reason.”
Noah firmly cut me off and shook his head.
For once, there was stubbornness in his gaze.
“…Sometimes when Mom drives me to school, my friends tease me. They say the junker is here again. I don’t care about that. But… that means even my friends can tell the car is a piece of junk.”
He let out a short sigh and lowered his head.
“I don’t need to get her a nice car. I just want to buy Mom one that feels safe. The kind of car anyone could look at and think, That should be okay to drive…”
I clenched my molars.
Daniel had shoved me aside during an operation and taken the shrapnel in my place.
I could not forgive myself for continuing to live because of him while allowing his son to be driven to thoughts like this.
“Fine. I’ll replace Rachel’s car immediately. I’ll pick something sturdy and safe, so you—”
“No.”
Noah violently shook his head.
“I know you give us money all the time, Jason. But I wanted to replace Mom’s car myself. In Dad’s place… with money I earned with my own hands.”
It was admirable.
But no matter what, I could not bring myself to praise him for it.
For a moment, no words could make it past my throat.
I remembered my own childhood, when I had been forced to grow up too soon. I had wanted Noah to remain a child for at least a little longer.
“…So what exactly is this safe car you have in mind?”
I took a sip of water to steady my voice before asking him.
“I’m not really sure about that part… Maybe something like a Jeep Wrangler?”
(Translator’s Note: Jeep Wrangler — An American four-wheel-drive SUV whose heritage traces back to the military Jeep developed during World War II. The Wrangler name was introduced by American Motors Corporation for the 1987 model year.)
“A Wrangler?”
I nearly spat out the water.
The Jeep Wrangler was the civilian descendant of military vehicles that originated during World War II.
That might have been where it started, but these days it was favored by off-road enthusiasts who treated traversing rough terrain as a hobby. If one had to describe its image, it certainly was extremely tough and sturdy, but…
“Uh… Noah. Don’t you think a Wrangler would be a little unsuitable for Rachel? Unless your mother has a hobby like driving through the mountains.”
His choice had caught me completely off guard, but it also reassured me that he was still a kid after all.
It also told me that, in his eyes, an SUV felt safe.
“Hmm… Then what about a Korean car, the Tucson?”
Both my parents were Korean, but I had no real connection to Korea. Nor did I have any overwhelming sense of patriotism.
In other words, this truly was an unbiased recommendation.
Korean automakers had invested in the American market for a long time, though the initial reception had been cold.
Then, beginning in the mid-2010s, the quality of their products improved dramatically, and they had gradually begun earning recognition.
In recent years especially, they had released many solid, rugged-looking SUVs tailored to American consumer tastes.
Thanks to aggressive marketing such as ten-year, one-hundred-thousand-mile warranties on new vehicles, their recognition and brand image had improved beyond comparison with the past.
Most importantly, even after depreciation, many remained in good condition, making one an appropriate choice for fulfilling Noah’s dream of buying his mother a car with money he earned himself.
“The car’s called the Tucson? Hmm, I like the design quite a bit.”
After immediately looking up photos and information on his phone, hope began to glimmer in Noah’s eyes again.
Its familiar name, reminiscent of Arizona’s second-largest city, seemed to help as well.
“Then let’s leave that aside for now. I have a proposal of my own. Noah, quit your restaurant job as soon as possible. Work at my restoration shop instead.”
“What?”
Noah’s eyes grew impossibly wide as he stared at his phone screen.
“I’ve known for a while that you’re interested in mechanics. Take this opportunity to get some experience. You’re old enough to start thinking about your career, too. I’ll pay you more than the restaurant, and Rachel will probably feel safer about it.”
“…Really? You’re not joking right now, are you, Jason? This is real, right?”
Noah’s voice shook with excitement.
“Oh my God… Oh my God. Oh! My! Gooood!”
Like a child who had received exactly what he wanted on Christmas morning, he threw punches into the air, unable to contain his excitement.
“Well, I need to discuss it with Rachel first, but you can start right away if she agrees. And I’ll prepare a car for you to commute in.”
“Whoa… A car too?”
Noah was now on the verge of fainting.
Shock, joy, and an indescribable sense of anticipation surged wildly in his eyes.
“It won’t be your car. It’ll be a company vehicle. You can’t commute from Phoenix by bus. But you do have a license, right?”
“Yes! I just got my intermediate license!”
(Translator’s Note: Intermediate License — A restricted license issued under the graduated driver-licensing system for teenage drivers. Restrictions commonly cover late-night driving and the number of young passengers allowed in the vehicle.)
An intermediate license was the stage immediately before a full license. Aside from restrictions such as no driving after ten at night and no more than one teenage passenger, it functioned the same as a standard license.
“That should be fine. But the commute is still awfully long…”
“That’s no problem at all! I’ve been taking the bus for an hour each way to the restaurant where I work now.”
That was because public transportation on the outskirts of Phoenix was so poor, but still…
“Fine, for now. But don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t free. I’ll be strict when you’re working, and you’ll need to take the job seriously and act responsibly. Understood?”
“Yes. I’ll work really hard. Thank you, Jason! Or should I call you Boss now…”
The boy muttered with his small lips pursed.
“Noah… Do you want to get fired before you even start? Anyway, if Rachel objects, this offer is immediately withdrawn. Your mother’s opinion comes first for me.”
“Yes. If that happens, I won’t insist either.”
His single-story house came into view in the distance.
Noah unfastened his seat belt and glanced at me.
“Um, Jason… Thank you for today.”
“For what?”
“Just… everything.”
Embarrassed by his own words, he kept fidgeting with the hands tucked into his pockets, not knowing what to do with himself.
“Okay. Go inside safely. And don’t get picked up by the police again.”
“Heh. You drive safely too, Jason.”
There was expectation and hope for tomorrow in his noticeably lighter steps.
I remained seated in the truck, watching Noah’s back until he had completely disappeared behind the front door.