Julie: Well shit... Maybe you should just tell him. He would understand if he lost someone too.
Maybe he would, but I couldn’t, not yet.
I pocketed my phone without responding.
He’d opened up to me this morning. Somewhere between hauling his drunken father up the stairs last night and eating breakfast, he’d spoken more words to me than ever. I had to stick with this, I was bordering on a breakthrough with him, I could feel it. I was going to win him over with food. Butter him up and casually ask him to quit smoking, start going to church and date a nice kindergarten teacher. Operation: Save Ashton From Throwing Away His Life and Wasting My Late Husband’s Heart was in full effect.
The day passed quickly with me spending every moment getting that kitchen into tip-top shape. I was thinking grand ideas such as hiring a sous-chef, a waitress, and having the place packed to the gills by Saturday. I’d gotten black chalkboard paint from the hardware store and even convinced Ashton to put a coat on the walls after closing so it could dry by morning.
It was the end of the night, and I was outside working on my chalkboard menu before closing when Ashton came out, holding a drink and a cigarette.
I scrunched my nose up. “Those things are foul, and they’ll kill you.”
He took a long drag. “I’m gonna die anyway.” He paused, looking reflective. “We all are.”
Maybe he was depressed. It took me a good six months on anti-depressants to climb out of the dark hole I’d been in after Colin. Maybe he never got out.
He pointed to what I was writing. “Truffle French fries? This isn’t the Ritz Carlton. What’s wrong with regular French fries?”
I burst into laughter, clutching my chalk marker. “Aww, that’s so cute that you think the Ritz Carlton would serve French fries.”
He scowled at me, but it was playful and I shook my chalk at him. “Did you come out here to talk shit or are you gonna help?”
He sipped his whiskey. “I came out here to talk a little shit and … to ask you something.”
My body tensed. Ask me what? Did he find out somehow? Had UNOS tipped him off that a stalker was coming for him?
“What’s up?” I steeled myself.
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at me apprehensively. His shirt peeked up, showing a tiny slice of his tan stomach.
Why did he have to be good looking? Why couldn’t Colin’s heart have gone to an ugly asshole instead of a pretty one?
“You made quite the impression on my granny,” he hedged. “She’s having a big seventieth birthday party on her farm tomorrow night and wants me to invite you. I told her you were too busy and she said she was sending one of my cousins down here to make sure I asked you properly.”
My heart hammered in my chest. A birthday party for his grandma? That was some serious family shit, but part of me wanted to know where this guy came from. What his childhood was like. It might help me fix him.
“I’d love to.”
He sighed as if my acceptance caused him untold grief. “Can’t you just say no? It’s gonna be boring.”
I scowled at him. “My answer is yes, and I’ll tell your cousin that myself. I also don’t have a car, so I’ll need a ride.” I’d turned my rental car in this afternoon on my lunchbreak.
He glared at me. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you?”
I threw one of the spare markers at his retreating back. “Without me you would starve!”
I’d fed that man three meals today and didn’t hear one complaint, so he could drive me to his granny’s farm and shut up about it.
“He got that charming personality from me,” a familiar voice spoke behind me and I jumped.
His dad. Alive and surprisingly looking well.
I clutched my chest. “You scared me.”
He leaned up against the brick wall, holding a drink with a paper bag wrapped around it. He looked clean, with gelled-back hair. Ashton had let him shower off at his apartment and then he went right back to drinking. He must have waited out here until just a few moments before closing. Ashton wouldn’t let him in otherwise, I suspected. His clothes were clean and looked familiar.
Ashton’s.
“I’m Millie.” I reached out and shook his hand.
“Wayne.” He pointed to the sign.
Ahh. Now it all made sense. Wayne’s Place.
“You feeling better?” I frowned, unsure how much he remembered.
He looked confused and then dawning recognition registered on his face. “I wasn’t always like this you know,” he informed me.
I started to clear up my markers, done with the sign. He seemed calm and chatty so I figured why not. “Oh yeah? What happened?”
I was raised Presbyterian, and when I was seventeen we went on a trip to San Francisco for two weeks. We worked with the homeless population there, feeding them, praying with them, hearing their stories. It completely healed me of my ‘fear’ of homeless people and all the taboo surrounding them. They were real people in shitty situations and most of them were so starved for conversation, they just wanted someone to talk to.
“My wife died. Ashton’s mom. Breast cancer just ate her up from the inside out.”
Oh God. My face fell, I hadn’t expected that answer, I’d been so shocked I actually dropped a few of my markers. The first I thought of was poor Ashton. He lost his mother, then in a way his father. Is that who he goes to grief counseling over? His mother? Is that why he needed a new heart? It was a silly thought; the heart didn’t actually break from sadness. Right?
Could this family’s story be any more tragic? I suddenly felt like an asshole for only losing one person I loved.
“I always liked drinking, but losing her all those years ago threw me over the edge,” he said, and took a long swig from his drink.
Years ago.
