I spoke to Shirley this past weekend and she seemed to be doing okay. Her sons, with the help of a police officer, had managed to pack up her personal possessions from the house here in Beaverton last week, and there’d been no sign of Mike. All stayed quiet on that front. She also found a job as a cashier at the local grocery store and sounded like she was slowly getting back on her feet. I’m sure it’ll take some time—especially with the court case against her husband looming the week of Thanksgiving—but Shirley sounds determined to forge ahead.
Good for her.
When Mom surfaces twenty minutes later, I’ve successfully avoided spending all that time thinking about Gray. It only lasts as long as the drive to Mom’s favorite restaurant.
The moment we’re seated in the small booth by the window heralds the end of my reprieve.
“You didn’t have a chance to answer my question earlier.”
Rather than trying to give her the runaround, I decide to tell her the truth. Maybe then she’ll give up on her romantic notions.
“Okay, look, I like Gray. He seems like a decent man, and I thought maybe there was something there to explore, but I get the sense he’s not in the same place.”
Perhaps it was a little more than a ‘sense’ when he took off like the devil was on his heels after I kissed him. Although seconds before, I sharply recall the way he kissed me back like his very life depended on it. I guess that’s why I can’t shrug it off as mixed signals so easily. It would’ve been easier if I hadn’t heard from him at all after he marched out, but there’d been that endearing message I received a few days later. Proof he was thinking about me too.
Mom puts her hand on mine across the table.
“Maybe he’ll come around or else, his loss, sweetheart.” She sits back in the booth and resolutely changes the subject. “So, what are we doing for Thanksgiving this year?”
I love my Mom.
“Paige told me this weekend she’s flying into Lansing on the twenty-sixth. So I thought maybe I’d pick you both up and bring you back to my place. Paige can bunk with me and you can have the spare. We’ll cook together. What do you think?”
I know the holidays especially are still tough for her. Heck, they are for me too; Dad’s loss seems to loom larger on those special days. It had been Paige’s suggestion to celebrate here instead of at Mom’s for a change. New traditions and all that.
“That sounds perfect,” Mom agrees. “Let’s just hope the snow holds off until after.”
We don’t tend to get piles of snow here—not like some places to the north of us—but things can get slick on the roads quickly.
“Perfect, so let’s figure out what we want to make,” I offer, glad we’ve moved on to a safer topic.
But as we’re discussing our meal options, I can’t help wonder what Gray will doing for Thanksgiving.
Gray
“How are you feeling?”
Frank looks a little the worse for wear when I walk into the bar at lunchtime.
We were supposed to meet last Sunday, but he got word to me he wouldn’t be able to make it. Yesterday he called the shop and asked if I could come today during my lunch break.
I’m still not clear why he wants to talk to me, but I guess I’m about to find out.
“I’ll live, for now,” he mumbles, leading the way into the bar after locking the front door. “Beer? I can do coffee as well.”
“Not for me, thanks. I’ll take a glass of water though.”
I watch Frank’s slow, measured movements and wonder what’s going on with him. I don’t have to wonder long.
“Two things,” he starts, after setting a glass in front of me and taking a sip from his can of Vernors. “First—and I don’t have time to pussyfoot around things—I owe you an apology.” I startle at that. “I should’a known. We’d been friends for more years than I could count, even then, but I knew he was a drunk. I knew he could be a mean bastard when he’d had a few. I just never thought he’d…” He visibly swallows, taking another sip before he continues, “He was drunk when he came in that night. Sat at this bar, crying about how she was dead. I felt for him, we all did, thinking he was talking about your sister. All those years, and I had no idea—”
“Frank.” I stop him with a hand on his arm and a lump in my throat. “Not your burden to carry.”
“Seeing you out there.” He shakes his head and his eyes drift out the window, as if he was reliving it all. “You deserved better, boy. Years I struggled when you refused to see anyone. Then when I heard you passed up on a parole opportunity, I was fucking ready to break you out of that godforsaken place. Can’t tell you how happy I was to see you back in town. Didn’t wanna spook you off right away, so I gave you some time to adjust, but I was watching.”
“Water under the bridge, old man.”
I try to stop the flow of words that hit me like paper cuts to my soul, but he ignores me.
“I’ve gotta do right by you, Gray. I let you down. Fuck, this whole town let you down. None’a that should’ve happened if we’d been payin’ attention. Which brings me to my second point.”
He takes a deep tug from his can and closes his eyes as he swallows it down. I worry when I see his hand start shaking as he pulls an envelope from under the bar.
“Are you okay, Frank?”
He doesn’t sugarcoat it.
“Dying, son. Be a small miracle if I make Thanksgiving. I would’a let you be a
