Barry Underhill was the only son of a poor ‘white trash family’ that had never amounted to anything in all the generations which had preceded him. His grandfather was a drunkard, his father ran off when he was a small boy and his could barely pay bills even with the three jobs she worked.
When Barry was ten years old, he was taken away from her by the state.
When he was fourteen, he learned that she had died in a car accident while driving home from work late one night on icy, deserted back roads.
When he was eighteen, he graduated high school (just barely) and did the only thing he could think to do. He joined the Army and got the hell out of Twinbrook.
Five years down the road, he was pulling up stakes one more time, but by his own designs. Instead, it was shrapnel from ‘friendly fire’ which pierced his leg and got him on disability. His minimal compensation from the VA got him this little bit of land. Willow Creek wasn’t much, but it was going to be home for a while.
Maybe… if he played his cards right. If the bad luck that seemed to follow him wherever he went didn’t catch up with him. Or if he didn’t just get bored.
Which might just happen, because Barry was a restless soul and it wasn’t like he could work with this leg, now could he? Just putter around the house all day. Check out the town. But he wasn’t fit for a full time job.
Well, there is a little something Barry can do, anyway. He sets up a little workshop in the ‘attached shed’ that came with his house. It’s a far little hobby room and as soon as he gets his tools unpacked and workbench set up, he sets to working with his hands.
The therapists at the VA say it’s good to keep busy, and he likes working with wood. It’s relaxing the way his blade slices through the wood.
Barry isn’t in Willow Creek long when his carpentry begins to lose it’s interest. He’s lonely. At least in the Army, there was always a hundred other people all in the same boat as you.
Here, there’s just him… the wood… and a whole bunch of neighbors he hasn’t gotten around to meeting yet.
The first curious neighbor to reach out to him is Arlene Grimm. Slightly on the pudgy side, but she’s cute and Barry finds she’s also easy to talk to.
Their friendship quickly blossoms. From cloud-gazing on the sidewalk in front of his house while they discuss his ‘trials’ in service of his country to cooking an enjoying a home cooked meal… Arlene soon becomes a part of his life.
As he watches her leave, Barry wonders if she could be just what he’s looking for. And then he wonders what he is looking for, exactly. He doesn’t really want a long-term commitment. Hell, he’s not even sure if he knows how to ‘do’ that. Dating, sure. But a steady thing? Marriage? It worked so well for the other men in his family, right? And Arlene hasn’t said she wants anything more than friendship anyway.
So why worry about it? He could just… go with the flow for now. See where it takes him.
Meeting Arlene puts Barry in the mood to get out and see what else there is to see in Willow Creek.
Or maybe that’s just the boredom. Because in some ways, Willow Creek reminds him too much of Twinbrook. Only, cleaner and less run down. And less wet.
But it has a bar, and pretty soon he’s a regular there, chatting it up with anyone and everyone. Like these lovely ladies… Clare Morin and Zoe Patel. Zoe’s friend J Huntington. The Third.
That makes Barry chuckle every time he says it. J Huntington THE THIRD. Like he’s so f-ing important. But he’s good for a laugh and a round of beer, and the ladies like it when he tosses around those Huntington simoleans. So Barry chats him up, too.
Back at home, there’s garbage to take out and a voice mail waiting from the VA.
It isn’t much, and it isn’t grand, but it’s his new life. Creator-willing, he won’t bork it up too badly.