Murphy

by Jenny Wood

  “Can I write them a letter? Will you give it to them? I just don’t think I can see them right now.” She says. “Morgan keeps coming by to check on us and I just can’t. Not yet.”

  “I understand and he will too. I’ll give him a letter, and I’ll tell him anything you want me to.” I promise her. I hold her hand while Bree gets her some paper and a pen and I excuse myself to give her time to write her feelings, and I hope that this helps give her whatever she needs.

  Murphy

  It took a while with Haley and Bree. I stayed until I knew that they were okay but after writing the pages and pages long letters to the guys and their babies, I felt like it was the goodbye that she needed. She was going to be okay.

  A different nurse was in the hallway when I exited the room and asked for the Kennedy’s; she smiled hugely and walked me there herself. She gushed about the twins and how precious they all were, she reminded me of someone’s grandma. I never had a relationship with mine; she’d washed her hands of my mother after the third rehab attempt didn’t take. I was told awful things about her, but I found a letter in my moms beside drawer once where my grandma had begged her to get help; unfortunately, addiction is one hell of a disease.

  Refusing to jaunt down that memory lane, I pull myself back into the present just as the nurse lightly knocks on a closed door and peeps her head in, “Hey guys, I have a Mr. Kinzer for you, can I let him in?” She asks, and of course, they agree. I can’t help but smile as I take them in, one holding their little girl and one holding their boy. They looked worried but happy and exhausted all at once.

  “You guys doing okay?” I ask, knowing this is a lot to take on.

  As any new parents would be, they’re nervous and worried about Haley, especially Morgan. They explain how they’ve tried to see her and couldn’t and I explain about the letter and everything I’d spoken to Haley about. They understood, of course, they did; but it didn’t keep them from worrying.

  Their paperwork was more tedious than Haley’s, all she had to do was a sign over her rights, and her part was done. With these guys, they had to go through the legal adoption papers now that the babies were here. I asked for copies of their birth records, and the nurse brought them right in, that way I wouldn’t have to ask a million questions times two about everything.

  I knew it was going to take a while, but I wanted to get it done now so I could go ahead and push the papers through to get signed. Plus, I figured when they all got home, they’d need time to settle in without me coming over with all this legal crap.

  About fifteen minutes into my process, the nurse knocks on the door as announces more visitors. I start packing up my things, willing to take things to the waiting room or even back home to do the rest, so I didn’t interfere with their guests. Imagine my surprise when two County Sheriff’s walked in, all smiles. Well, the first one was, he was introduced as Wade; I didn’t need an introduction to the second one, and by the looks of him, he didn’t need one either. Shame and embarrassment wash over me as I hurry to pack things up. I don’t worry about keeping them intact or in order; I’d redo the whole process over again if it got me out of this room. Cruz, they said his name was… it suited him, a lot better than Michael, which was what he told me his name was.

  “I’m going to let you guys visit and be on my way. I’ll call you tomorrow, see about finishing this, sound good?” I ask, but don’t stick around for confirmation. “Call me if you need anything,” I say, shutting the door behind me on my way out. I stop and take a breath before I can take another step. I needed to get out of here, something about those gray eyes and that perfect scowl had me remembering a night that was better not remembered.

  A month ago…

  It’s my birthday… how have I been on this earth for thirty-two years? It seems like I’ve lived three lifetimes in that time, but strangely, it feels like no time at all. Being new to town, I didn’t want to stay at home by myself and let another birthday pass with no one to share it with. I mean, yeah, I had my mother, but the years of drug abuse and early onset Alzheimer’s by the time I was fourteen, and me jumping back and forth between home and foster families when she couldn’t keep it together, didn’t guarantee me many surprise parties. Any, if I'm honest. My birthday was often forgotten about; as was Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween and any other day worth remembering. My mom is in a long-term care facility now, but when I was growing up, it was better just to let things be forgotten.

  But here in a new town, with ridiculously nice people and being that it’s a Saturday night; why couldn’t I find something to get up to? Even if it’s just a nice dinner out with a piece of cake for myself, it’s better than sitting here with takeout and an old movie. Deciding on the steakhouse at the edge of town, I call an Uber, who I learned is ran by two cousins; Shay and Kent. This town isn’t big enough for a taxi service, and the buses don’t run this late, so one being in college and the other still living at home, they make extra money by being a car service. Handy on nights like tonight when I might want a glass of wine or two with dinner.

  They’re young but professional, and Kent is the one who pulls up in front of my place twenty minutes later. It had given me plenty of time to change into something more casual than my button up and tie that I wear to work every day. I never know when I’ll need to be in front of a judge, so I always wear a suit. Tonight though, it’s a long-sleeved graphic tee and nice jeans kind of night. Being that its mid-October, it’s chilly and windy, and tonight there’s a light drizzle.

  “You look nice,” The college-aged kid tells me.

  “Thank you.” I smile at his compliment. I want to tell him it’s my birthday, just so I can acknowledge it to someone other than myself, but that seems awkward, and I’m not usually an awkward person.

  The restaurant is one of the nicest places in town, I’ve heard. I’ve never actually been here myself but the atmosphere is comfortable, and the décor is warm and inviting. I for some reason expected this to be like a lodge, with dead animal heads on the walls, but it’s actually just a quaint little steakhouse, with leather booths and scattered tables and a candle on every table.

  “Good afternoon, Sir. Can I help you?” The hostess greets me the moment I walk in. Sarah, her name tag says, is full of smiles and cheer.

  “Well, I was hoping to get a table, but you guys look pretty full.“ I smile, though I’m a little disappointed.

  “Just one?” She confirmed. I nodded my affirmative, and she scanned the area, presumably for an open seat. There didn’t look to be one. For a small town, it seemed like everyone was here.

  “Can I get you a seat at the bar? Looks like maybe a ten to fifteen-minute wait, the first round is on the house.” She winked with a perky smile; my guess is that she used that smile and that wink quite a bit, and I bet it lined her pockets with amazing tips; still, it seemed genuine.

  “Sure” I agreed, and her smile got impossibly bigger. I followed her through the scattered, full tables and smiled politely at some of the people I’d recognized from around town. The man who runs the hardware store was tucked into a back corner with two young men that I knew to be his grandson’s, from my sporadic trips into his business to buy things like a porch swing and then later the tools to hang one up. Who knew they wouldn’t come with stuff to install it? Okay, so I wasn’t handy, but I was trying to make my new home, a home. It definitely needed some work, but I’d hoped to find time to fix it up. I was settling down, growing roots. My little country house was going to be everything I imagined it to be and I hoped one day, I got to fill it with a slew of kids that I never had to send away. One day.

  “Here you are, I’ll leave you in Kale’s capable hands, and I’ll be back to collect ya as soon as a table opens up.” She sauntered away after I gave her my thanks and I took my seat.

  “What can I getcha?” The lean, curly-headed bartender with kind eyes asked me.

  “Can I get a sweet tea with lemon, please?” I ask ridiculously. I was sitting at a bar,
asking for sweet tea. The man introduced as Kale didn’t bat an eye as he made quick work of my drink.

  “No charge, can I get ya anything else?” He asks with a twang that I couldn’t place. North Carolina, maybe?

  “No thank you, I’m all set,” I tell him, and he walks away. Silently sipping my tea, I glance around the room. There’s an anniversary party going on for an elderly couple and their family if the giant 5 and 0 balloon are anything to go by. I see a man and a woman holding hands across the table, having an intimate and happy conversation with one another if the smiles on their faces are anything to go by. And right over by the door, I see a harried looking mother with three young children, climbing over the seats and giggling loudly as she tries to wrangle them all together and eat at the same time. It looks hectic but fun. She catches me looking at her, and I offer her a small smile; her narrowed eyes were glaring at me, and I suspect she had a different idea of why I was watching her. I wasn’t judging; I just like to people watch; wonder about their lives and what it would be like if I put myself in their shoes. Wouldn’t that be something? If you could switch lives with someone for a day? I’d give that harried mom a nice boring, relaxing day in my life and I’d get to experience waking up with a clan of children and maybe have a husband at home or a dog. I’d do that; I’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Turning back to my tea, I’m jolted in surprise when a wall of muscle slides up beside me and slams his glass on the bar and demands another. His demand is clipped and rough, and the baritone of his voice is surprising. He sounded pissed. I also don’t think he understood personal space because his elbow was in line with my neck and if he stumbled or just shifted minutely, he’d elbow me in the throat. I tried to scoot my stool over to give him more room, but when I put my feet to the floor to move, I think I stepped on his shoe.

  “Sorry,” I offered when his sharp gaze turned on me. His brows were crunched up on his face, and he didn’t just sound pissed, he looked it too.

  “Did you not see me standing here?” He clipped a Hispanic tinged accent that matched his dark features.

  “I did, I was just trying to give you more room. I’m sorry.” I apologize again, though this ass-hat should be the one apologizing, I was here first. Still, I didn’t say that; he looked as if his eyes alone could eviscerate me on the spot.

  “What are you drinkin’?” The bartender asks, sans the smile he had when I had sat down.

  “Whiskey. Neat.” The man answered, though his eyes didn’t leave me. “I’m a dick,” the man seemed to be talking to me. I wanted to agree, because, yes, he sure seemed like it at that moment. He pulled his wallet out and threw down a ten-dollar bill while grabbing his drink and slinging it back. The bartender grabbed it and walked away. Good idea.

  “Sorry.” The man mumbled to me, just as I was getting ready to push my stool back and excuse myself. He could have my seat, though there were several open around the bar. “Can I get you a drink?” He asks, his eyes losing their fire and his body looked to try to be less menacing.

  “No need, I’m just drinking tea and waiting on a table,” I tell him. Yes, he was kind of jerky, but I understood bad days. He apologized, I could accept it.

  “Me too.” He tells me. “One opens up; you wanna join me? It’s only me; you got anyone with you?”

  “No, just me,” I tell him honestly. He nods, turning the rest of his body towards me and I can’t be sure, but watching his eyes study my face and then move down the rest of my body, I thought I saw a little of that fire, flare. I can’t deny that he’s gorgeous; in a dangerous, mysterious kind of way. His skin is dark, as well as his eyes and hair, they both look near black. He’s taller than my five-ten, but I can’t tell how much taller since I’m sitting; but his body is lean and muscled- not a bodybuilder type, but strong and athletic. I wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley, that’s for sure…..or maybe I would, depends.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but your table is ready.” The chipper woman from before stood in front of us looking nervous as she looked past him at me. “I’m so sorry; it’ll be just a little bit longer for you. Soon, not long.” She says to the man beside me. His brows furrowed again as he looked at her and I saw her visibly swallow.

  “He’s going to join me,” I tell her, watching her body instantly relax.

  “Okay.” She nods and tries for a smile. “Follow me, please.” She says quietly and turns to walk away.

  “You’re scaring her, stop scowling,” I mumble bravely as I grab my drink and follow. I could feel the man following close behind me, but I didn’t dare turn around and look. Our hostess seated us at a small table for two. It was intimate, and we’d be close, but I figured she only planned for me to dine alone, so this would be all I’d have needed. Still, we’d both fit.

  “Jessie is going to be your server tonight, but can I get y’all something else to drink or a refresh?” She asks me, refusing to look at my scowling new dinner companion.

  “I’ll have some more tea, please,” I answer and look at the man in question.

  “Beer. Whatever’s on tap.” He says, no longer broody but not inviting either. She nods and curries off, and another young girl comes back with our drinks. Jessie is what her name tag says, and I make a note to thank her properly as well as tip her huge for having to put up with Mr. Dark and Grouchy, tonight.

  “Do you know what’s good here?” I ask, attempting conversation as we both look over the menu. I decided on steak before I came, but, I looked over the menu for something to do.

  “Everything. I’ve never had anything here that I didn’t like.” He says, scowling at his menu like it’s somehow offended him.

  “Are you a picky eater?” I ask, sitting my menu down on the table and giving him my attention.

  “No.” He says after a moment of studying me, but I think I see his lip quirk before he hides it. I’m not sure why that little smirk felt like a victory.

  “My name is Murphy. Murphy Kinzer.” I offer my hand across the table. He stares at it for a second before putting his hand in mind for a small shake. His hands are calloused and rough, and they engulf mine, which isn’t easy to do as I’m not a small man.

  “Michael.”

  “That’s it?” My mouth blurts before my brain gave it the okay, “Just Michael? Are you like Cher, or Madonna or something? Beyoncé? Just have the one name? That’s cool.” I ramble like a twat. Sometimes my smart ass gets away from me, though, I rarely have the opportunity to use it. I’m not used to small talk that isn’t in a professional setting; as I’ve not been in town long, I haven’t set about making friends, yet. I didn’t see Michael falling into that category. He seemed to ignore my word vomit, but I caught that smirk once again. He also didn’t look like a Michael; I’d have guessed something more exotic, dangerous. He reminded me of a coiled viper, ready to strike. A viper didn’t have such a common, friendly sounding, biblical name.

  When Jessie brought out a little basket of rolls, with butter; I made a point to thank her, sincerely. She smiled as she took our order and Michael didn’t grumble like we both were expecting. He even thanked her as well when she took our menu’s and sauntered away. Maybe his drinks were kicking in.

  Because I’m terrible with uncomfortable silence, I rack my brain for something to say. I kind of wanted to thank him for joining me for dinner; it was nice to not sit here like a loser and eat in silence by myself. We were still likely to eat in silence, but at least I wasn’t by myself.

  “Murphy Kinzer. You from around here?” He asks, interrupting my mental catalog of questions that wouldn’t be rude to ask. He’d beaten me to it.

  “No, I’m a transfer from Savannah.” I smile, picking up a dinner roll for something to do with my hands.

  “So, what brings you to Madison?”

  “Work,” I tell him honestly. A colleague of mine got pregnant and followed her husband when he got stationed overseas, and because I didn’t have any ties to Savannah, I volunteered. I really liked it here thou
gh, enough to settle down and look to buy a home. I left that part out though; he hadn’t asked for my life story.

  “What do you do?” He fired another question.

  “You from around here?” I ask instead of answering; I was starting to feel a little interrogated.

  “No.” I wasn’t surprised by his short answer.

  “Okay.” I sighed, giving up on trying at a two-sided conversation. I surveyed the room once again. I could feel his eyes on me from across the table, but I tried my hardest to ignore it. I wondered how long it would take to make both of our steaks as well as my vegetables and his baked potato. Not wanting to look like a loser and eat alone might’ve been better than this, my stomach was knotting up, and I was afraid I wouldn’t have much of an appetite once it got here. He was making me uneasy and a little bit nervous.

  “Murphy,” The surly man across from me, called gently. If you’d have asked me a split second ago, I’d have told you that he wasn’t capable of sounding gentle. Still, I looked at him directly. “I’ve had a really bad day, and when I say that, I mean a really bad day. I’m being a bigger asshole than my usual asshole, and I apologize. Again. I’m taking my shit day out on everyone, and you’ve been nice enough to share your table. I appreciate it.” That surprised me, and I found myself wanting to ask about his shitty day. Sometimes when you have a bad day, it helps to talk about it. I hadn’t had anyone to confide in for a long time about my shitty days, but, I could be that for him if he needed to talk it out. I was just about to offer when Jessie showed up with our food. Moment broken, he was back to looking pissed.