The woman makes her way over the counter, not really using her cane to lean on so much as to make a fashion statement. I half expect her to start twirling it while she does a tap routine. “Just thought I’d stop by while I was in the neighborhood. See how my favorite niece is holding up the family legacy.” Claudine points her cane at me, which is a harrowing experience. “How’s she been treating you, Nick?”
My eyes go to Mel and she shoots me icy daggers.
“Like family,” I say, which in retrospect makes this all far more awkward.
Claudine shakes her head, “You poor bastard. I’m so sorry.”
Mel chuckles and I at least feel a smile tug at my lips.
“Nick, are you busy?”
I look at Mel again, but Claudine thumps her cane on the ground to get my attention. “N-No, ma’am. Not at the moment. Can I get you something?”
“No, my dear, but you can do me a huge favor and walk with me down to the pharmacy.”
“The pharmacy?”
Mel is no help, she just shrugs at me and says, “The pharmacy.”
“Sure.” I pull down the last chair from the table, “Whenever you’re ready.”
“I was ready half a lifetime ago, dear. Now get the door.”
I do as I’m told, bells jingling again as I pull the door open. Before Claudine makes it across the dining room, Tommy walks through the door, literally flinching when he sees me.
“Hey,” he says. The dark circles under his eyes match my own.
“Hey.”
Claudine injects herself between us. “Excuse me, Thomas. Nick and I have a date with a pharmacist.”
Tommy’s confusion is understandable, but he ducks out of the doorway and heads back behind the counter.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says to Mel.
“It’s alright, Tom-Tom, you can always make it up to me by—”
Their words fade as Claudine wraps her free hand through my arm and drags me with surprising strength out onto the sidewalk. In the sunshine, her cane is like a strobe light, throwing random beams of pure white across the street. Some poor unsuspecting driver is going to be blinded and end up running me over. You know, if I’m lucky.
“What’s on your mind, string-bean?”
I don’t see anyone else around, so I guess this is just another pet name she’s decided on. “What do you mean?”
Claudine looks up at me, over the rims of her glasses. “I mean, what was that little interaction that I just saved you from in there? Lord Jesus, you could see the sparks just flying off the two of you.”
Is she for real?
“You could see that?”
“Clear as day, sugar lips. I may be old, but that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of the pangs of young love. And honey, after all that electricity, I’m surprised your hair’s not standing up.”
Well, this is just weird. But she’s already put it out in the open, so what the hell?
“He’s upset with me,” I tell her, looking down the alley before we cross over to the next street. “I’m upset with me, if we’re being honest.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s… difficult to explain.”
“Try me. I grew up in the sixties.”
I laugh, which feels sort of wrong right now, but I lean into it.
“I messed up. And now he thinks that I haven’t been honest with him.”
“Have you been honest?”
“Yes! Well… about most things.”
Claudine chuckles, the dangling cluster of jewels on her earrings bouncing off the side of her head. “That answers my question. So, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. He probably won’t even listen to what I have to say.”
“He’s an intelligent young man. I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. Be sincere. Speak from the heart. And whatever your intentions with this boy, just be honest with him. That’s the best thing anyone can do.”
I give her a nod. “I can do that.”
“There’s a good boy.” She gives me another smile.
I clear my throat, looking up to survey the street. “So, where exactly is the pharmacy?”
“Oh, it’s on the other side of town, dear.”
“What? Why are we going this way, then?”
Claudine laughs again, high and sharp. “Did you actually think I needed someone to escort me to the drug store? Oh, you are just the sweetest thing. Look here, honey bun. I haven’t needed a man since the winter of ’68 when I got snowed into my cabin and this lovely lumberjack fella came to plow me out.” Her face goes blank, then she’s howling with laughter, “Oh, dear! That sounded far more suggestive than I intended, but I think you catch my drift.”
Now I’m laughing too and there are people on the other side of the street who’ve stopped to watch us.
“Come on, sugar. Let’s get you back to the shop so you can set things right. I’ll tell Melody to give you all the time you need.”
“Thank you, Claudine.”
“It’s nothing, sugar.”
“How was the pharmacy?” Mel asks as Claudine and I walk through the door. “Did you remember the Metamucil.”
Claudine fires back immediately. “No, but I did remember to get you that cream you needed for your intimate area. Don’t worry, I’ll deduct it from your paycheck.”
I want to step into the corner while they continue their strange family tradition of belittling each other, but after my little pep-walk with Claudine, I’m determined.
Rod steps through the swinging door, carrying a tray of glasses.
“Hey, is Tommy back there?”
He stacks the tray under the counter, “Nah, Mel sent him home. Poor dude looked like crap. He should be back tomorrow though.”
Tomorrow? No! I can’t wait till tomorrow. I’m not going to be able to keep my shit together till tomorrow.
“Oh okay, thanks.”
Rod gives me a nod, then continues about his work.
Mel and Claudine are still going at each other at the counter, so I slip through the swinging door and pull out my phone. My fingers hover over the keyboard for a solid five minutes before I force out the message.
Me: I know I messed up. Like, majorly. Please give me the chance to explain. To make it right, or at least to try. Meet me by the river? I’ll head there right after work. 8:14am
Me: Please. 8:14am
I exhale, stowing my phone back in my pocket.
Will he come?
A tattered umbrella lays beside Chase’s headstone. Clumps of clay with patches of gold glitter litter the grass. They catch beams of sunlight with sparkling brilliance.
But most importantly, the mosaic is still here. Even though I’ve ghosted its creator.
The grass under me is soft. I revel in the texture as I lean back on my palms. I still have some time to kill, till Mom gets here. I called, after getting home from Claudine’s and even though I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about what happened, I made plans to meet her and change the flowers out for Chase’s anniversary. I’m just running a bit ahead of schedule…
It’s quiet. Which is a new sensation, especially here of all places. Chase hasn’t spoken a word, and I get the feeling that it may be permanent this time.
It’s a bittersweet realization. I haven’t felt this alone since he died.
“You’re going to get a grass stain.”
Mom grunts as she lowers herself onto the ground beside me.
“How was the event?” I ask, taking the bundle of silk flowers she hands to me.
“I’ll get to it in a minute,” she says, closing her eyes as she leans back. The sun washes over her face, and her lips twist into a smile. “It’s such a beautiful day. Chase would have loved it. He’d be laid out on a towel somewhere.”
I nod along, removing the faded silk flowers from Chase’s grave, replacing them with the vibrant reds and yellows that Mom picked out.
“That’s pretty,” she says, pointi
ng to Nick’s artwork. “Did you do that?”
I shake my head, but it takes me a second to come up with, “A friend of ours.”
The heat of the afternoon stirs with a breeze, sending ripples along the branches overhead. I return to my spot in the grass.
“It really is gorgeous.” Mom says, as she rests her head on my shoulder. “Do you think his folks will stop by at some point?”
“Maybe.” I say, picking at a blade of grass. The bits of green drift from my palm with the remnants of the passing breeze.
Silence grows like a vine along the tombstones, wrapping its way around us until a distant bird interrupts with his song.
“Did you notice I finished the puzzle?” Mom asks, the full weight of her head planted on my shoulder. “Took me long enough, right?”
“I don’t think we broke any records.”
She shakes with a chuckle and just as I’m getting accustomed to the weight of her head, it’s gone and she’s looking at me. Her long fingers brush a stray strand of hair from my eye, tucking it away gently.
“You know, I don’t think I’ll be starting another puzzle anytime soon.” She wraps her arms around the top of her knees, pulling them into her flat chest. She’s looking at the mosaic now, eyes trained on the fragmented glass.
“Why’s that?” I ask, mimicking her and pulling my knees in.
“False advertising.”
I laugh. “Are you drunk?”
She gives me a playful shove. “Of course not. Stay with me here. I was thinking about it last night while laying in the most luxurious bubble bath—oh my god, it was incredible and the—never mind. Anyway, I realized for the past year, I’ve been viewing my life as a puzzle. Broken. Scattered. And in many ways, frustrating as all get out. But, like all puzzles, with enough patience the pieces can fit together into something that resembles the life I once had.
“I kept wrestling with this idea. I tossed and turned half the night—or maybe that was the ridiculously comfortable bed, I’m not used to sleeping on a cloud—but no matter how hard I thought it through, no matter how many different angles I spun, the truth kept staring me in the face. It doesn’t matter how many puzzles I put back together. My life will never emulate them.
“It was a depressing way to end the day, let me tell you. But sitting here, I finally see a solution. And it’s sitting right in front of me.” She points to Chase’s grave. “That, right there.”
“Death?” I stare at her in disbelief. “Maybe you are drunk, Mom. That’s awfully morbid.”
Her elbow jabs into my ribs. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Too late,” I wheeze.
“I meant the mosaic, Tommy. It’s similar to a puzzle, but different. Take the jigsaw puzzle. The pieces stitch together to form a larger picture. No matter how many times you break it apart, you can always reassemble it back to perfection.
“But a mosaic? You take the shattered pieces, the ones you never thought would be salvageable, and you turn them into something new. Unique. You could break it a thousand times and you’d get the chance to create a thousand different masterpieces. And yet, they’re still you. Made from all the broken pieces you never thought we’re worth anything.”
She sounds a lot like Nick.
“I want my life to be like that, Tommy.” She grabs my hand, pulling it over to her. “I don’t want to struggle, trying to fit the pieces back into the same picture. I want to make something beautiful. Something different. A work of art that only I can create.”
Her eyes haven’t left the mosaic, locked on the shades of blue and green glass.
“It’s a nice sentiment, Mom.”
She turns to me. “You don’t agree?”
“Sure, I want to. But that doesn’t mean that life is going to be that kind. That it will give us the beauty necessary to make something out of this mess.”
Mom squeezes my hand, her eyes shining at the edges. “We can try, sweetheart. We can always try.”
I swallow back the lump growing in my throat. “Where do we start?”
Her hand slips from mine, leaving me grasping for a tether. “I think we start with sorting through the pieces,” she says. “We might be surprised with what we find.”
Can the answer really be that simple? Piecing together the pain and sadness of my life until it starts to resemble something better? I don’t know if I have the strength to find out.
Mom’s eyes are distant when I look back at her, the lines on her face smoothed. “I think I’m ready,” she says, then rises from her place, leaving nothing but an indention in the grass. She plants a soft kiss on the crown of my head. She holds out her hand. “What about you?”
I’ve been ignoring Nick’s text all afternoon. But now, it seems like I’ll have to face him, sooner or later, if only for my own closure. I take one last look at Chase’s grave, and the headstone made of glass and glue.
I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet.
“I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”
Mom pulls me into a hug that would only Armageddon would end if I didn’t pull away.
“Let’s go home.”
The rock under me radiates heat, even though the sun has long dropped behind the pervasive evergreens. I check my phone for the thousandth time since I climbed up here. Nothing. Just the clock widget, ticking away, mocking me for thinking that Tommy would come.
I should head back. The last thing I want is to be wandering around the woods after dark. I haven’t watched nearly enough Discovery channel to know how to survive getting lost. Then again, I don’t think Naked and Afraid is a good role model for what to do in that situation.
After one last longing glance, I scramble down from my rocky perch.
He’s not coming. I can’t say I blame the guy. If the roles had been reversed, I’d have done the same. Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, was there ever going to be a future for the two of us?
My phone buzzes and I nearly drop it as I wrestle it out of my pocket. Reese’s picture pops up on the screen and I try to hide my disappointment as I swipe to answer.
“Hey, Reese.”
“Well don’t sound so excited about it.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be. You’ve kept me waiting for a grueling twenty-four hours. Now, tell me everything about this date.”
“Can we not do this right now?” I ask, my throat getting tight.
She doesn’t relent. “What do you mean, honey? What happened?”
I swallow the growing lump and fumble through, “I messed up. Majorly. And I just—I’m not ready to get into it yet.”
“Oh.” There’s a rare silence on the other end, then Reese says, “Of course, honey. Are you good? Do I need to come up there? I can get in the car right now and be there before you know it.”
The thought of Reese driving up mountain roads in the dark spikes my anxiety. “Please don’t. Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow and hopefully by then, I’ll be ready to talk.”
“Well, okay then… I love you, Nick.”
I exhale. “I love you too. Talk to you soon.”
The babbling river fills the void of Reese’s words and I stuff my phone into the front pocket of my jeans. The light is fading fast, but it’s only about a fifteen-minute walk back to the car.
I start for the trail but stop just shy.
Tommy steps out from the cover of trees, his face flushed and hair damp with sweat. He sees me, stopping just shy of arm’s length.
A shiver shoots up my spine.
“Hey.” I wring my hands behind my back.
“Hey.”
We stand, two statues carved from unyielding marble, waiting for the other to crack.
The river drones on.
Say something, Tommy.
I’ve rehearsed it a dozen times on my way down, but now that Nick is here, staring me in the face with eyes full of sorrow and pain—I’ve lost the will to speak.
Still, he needs to understand how he’s hurt me. Why I
reacted the way I did.
And he’s picked the place where it all happened. The place where I lost Chase, and all of my plans for the future, shattered against the rocks the moment he stepped out of that kayak.
I need to tell it all.
“I’m sorry, I’m late,” I start off, because apologizing for everything is embedded in my genetic makeup. “I’ve been trying to come up with what I want to say to you, Nick. Sorting through what I want to share and what I’m keeping for myself.”
Nick doesn’t reply, but his posture stiffens, like he’s bracing himself for impact.
“And even though I’ve played this moment over—like non-stop—since I got home, I’m still struggling.”
If this were one of Mom’s romantic comedies, this would be the part where I throw my arms around him and we kiss while the camera does that circling thing, and by the time we separate, we’ve worked through all the carefully-scripted problems and walk off into the sunset together as the credits roll.
But this is reality, so I just smack the mosquito that’s going at my arm like a buffet and take a deep breath.
The Chattahoochee lulls in the background, the dull roar of the water a steady and calming sound. I focus on that noise and it pushes me forward, as easy as slicing through the crystal-clear surface in dad’s kayak. Nick remains motionless, a boulder, immovable by the water’s gentle caress, but somehow still shaped by it. His muscles tense as I draw close, his jaw clenches and eyes wide.
I stop close enough to reach out to him, though my arms stay firmly planted at my side.
“So, since I’m still so woefully unprepared, I think I’ll let you go first.”
His Adam’s apple bobs like a buoy when he swallows.
“I’m so sorry,” Nick starts, his hands drifting out to me, but stopping short as he thinks better of the gesture. “Seriously. I never meant for this to go on so long. I didn’t know it was you until like, a week ago. Honest-to-God. I got this stupid prepaid phone after mine got busted so my dad wouldn’t kill me, and then you were messaging me, and it got out of hand.”
Ghosting You Page 25