Silvertongue

by Sidney Wood

  Bill walked back to his side of the shop, muttering under his breath about whippersnappers.

  The banter between them distracted Noah, but it couldn’t erase the fact that he was losing it. He felt like a ticking bomb, and not just at his job.

  The previous week he left work amid a downpour, driving all the way home before realizing he forgot to pick up Luke. When he finally made it to the patchwork of soccer fields nested between a graveyard and a softball complex, he found Luke standing under a tree, drenched and shivering.

  “How come you didn’t call me?” He had asked.

  “My phone died hours ago, Dad.”

  “Shit.” Noah had promised to buy Luke a new charging cord but forgot.

  It didn’t take long for Noah to solder the new wire securely and clean up his mess. “Hey Bill, did I forget anything this time?” He leaned back on his roller chair and peered around the wide tire of Bill’s Trike project.

  Bill answered without looking up. “With that thing? No.” He twisted a ratchet back and forth several times. “You forgot to eat lunch though.”

  Noah’s stomach growled as he glanced at the Coca Cola clock hanging on the shop wall. It was nearly quitting time. “I guess I did. Hey, I have a free night tonight; no kids. I’m going to take off as soon as I square away this paperwork.”

  “Sounds good, Brother. Take it easy.”

  On his way home, Noah guided his pickup into the Brown Jug parking lot. He only wanted to do one thing when he got home, and it involved a six pack of cold Irish Death and a fat peppered steak.

  As he waited in the checkout line, Noah watched a beat-up sedan weave into the parking lot and swerve wide before attempting to park next to his truck. “Mother F…” Sounds of metal and plastic crunching silenced him.

  All heads turned to the large storefront windows. One of the cashiers laughed, covering her mouth. “Ooh, somebody’s going to be pissed!”

  Noah set his beer on the counter and strode toward the door. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  The sweet odor of coolant greeted him as he stepped outside, finding a gray and black sedan with a hodgepodge of stickers on the back window smashed against the driver side of his pickup, still idling.

  Behind the wheel, a black hat emblazoned with an emerald green pot leaf bobbed to a thumping beat. Noah inhaled, completely unsurprised at the skunk-like scent his olfactory glands detected. The driver door opened and a hefty young man in his mid-twenties climbed out. He had a gray pallor, as if he had never seen the light of day, like a mole.

  Mole reminded Noah of a Navy mechanic. Years ago, while serving in a Marine Expeditionary Unit, he noticed that some of the Engine Room guys hardly came above deck once the ship was underway. They had long hair and pasty-white skin by the end of the float.

  Lifting himself to full height, the dude stood around 5 foot eleven, wearing a black hoodie and baggie black jeans. His shoes were emerald green. Ignoring Noah, he started toward the liquor store.

  “Hey, buddy.” Noah held up a hand and positioned himself in front of the guy.

  Mole frowned and looked behind him as if he wasn’t sure who Noah meant. When he turned back around and faced Noah, he shrugged. “What?”

  Noah pointed at his pickup, trying to contain his anger. “You just hit my truck. Did you seriously not notice?”

  Confusion slowly worked its way across Mole’s face, and he stepped around the front of his car to investigate. “Oh shit, yeah. Sorry about that.” He shook his head and gave Noah an apologetic look. “I got no insurance bro.”

  “Unbelievable.” Noah growled. He started for the door. “I’m going inside to pay for my beer and then I’m calling the cops. It’s up to you whether you’re still around when they get here.”

  Noah stormed through the front door; Clint Eastwood grimace plastered on his face. Halfway to the register, he changed his mind and returned to the cooler. With is free hand, he opened the glass door and grabbed another six pack. It was going to be a long night.

  Later, buzzed on the couch and trying to remember if he had decided to call or to not call Ulie, Noah shook his head. He dropped his phone on the cushion. He couldn’t think of anything to say or do to fix things. He had to leave her alone. He briefly considered calling Lisa and asking her to come over but dismissed the idea angrily. Getting drunk and having a pity party was bad enough. Getting laid by someone he despised just made him a bigger asshole.

  He eyed the fridge, contemplating opening another beer. “One more won’t hurt anything, right?” Noah stood and took a step toward the kitchen, knowing full well that if he drank another, he’d drink them all. Any inhibitions he still had would evaporate. The last time that happened he woke up to find Lisa wearing his shirt. That thought turned him right around. Instead of going to the kitchen, he found his phone and walked upstairs to bed.

  The next day, Noah climbed into his truck from the passenger side and slid all the way across behind the wheel. Despite the driver door being pushed in and the front fender being peeled out in front of the hinges, it still drove okay. When he pulled into the shop to clock in, his boss was parking his Harley. He met Noah inside and asked him to join him in his office.

  “What’s up, Dave?” Noah left the door open, hoping the meeting would be quick.

  “Shut the door and have a seat.” Dave sat behind his desk, holding a pencil with the fingertips of both hands.

  Noah nodded, giving the lightweight door a nudge before he sat down. Behind him, the interior wall shook as the door collided with the frame.

  Dave hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Noah, you’re a fine mechanic…and uh, I feel fortunate to have you on my team. You know that, right?” His eyes met Noah’s, and he appeared to be searching for understanding.

  “Yeah, of course, Dave. I mean, I’m the lucky one, but yeah. I’m glad to be here.”

  Dave nodded, looking serious. “Good…good. Well, I’ve noticed that um…you have been going through a rough patch for a while, and uh…well, I just want you to know that we’re all here for you if you need anything.” Dave waved his hand in a circle.

  “Oh…” Noah leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t expected that. As he walked in and sat down, he mentally prepared himself to get fired. “Geez…um…thanks, Dave.”

  Dave nodded and said, “Do you? Do you need anything? I mean, your truck took a beating. Do you want to borrow the shop truck for a couple of weeks? I’d do the same for any employee, so please don’t be stubborn about it.” Dave leveled a knowing look at Noah. Some people had a hard time accepting help, and he knew Noah was one.

  Noah sighed and shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, Dave. I…” He paused, thinking about getting in and out of his beat-up truck with Nicky’s car seat. “Yes, I guess I do need some help. Borrowing the truck will really help me out. Thank you, Dave.” He stood and extended one large hand to his boss.

  Dave shook Noah’s hand and smiled. “Anytime, Noah. Now, get to work.”

  Noah chuckled and exited the small office, leaving the door open the way Dave liked it.

  Standing in front of his workbench, Noah took a deep breath and exhaled as he scanned the shop. “I’m one lucky guy. I have a great life with more blessings than I deserve. Man, I love this job.”

  From the other side of the shop, Bill heard Noah muttering and looked over his shoulder.

  Noah waved and Bill waved back with a smile. The old man turned back to his bench.

  “There’s only one thing missing.” Noah imagined a woman’s face with wavy brown hair and deep brown eyes, the kind of eyes that pulled you in and made you forget everything else. “Those eyes,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Huh?” Bill looked over his shoulder again.

  Noah chuckled at Bill’s expression. “I said you have gorgeous eyes, Bill.”

  Bill froze momentarily and a grin slowly spread across his face. “Thank you.” He turned back to his bench and began whistl
ing.

  Noah shook his head, checking his box to see which piece of American Steel artwork he’d repair today.

  Chapter Thirty-One (Last day of August)

  Ulie sat at the bar while diners walked by, mingling and laughing together. Her stomach in knots, she waited for Phillip to arrive, mood too dark to laugh or mingle. Ulie ran a fingertip around the rim of her glass. She was destined to break a good man’s heart. All day, she puzzled over how to tell Phillip the truth, but a perfect solution eluded her. Late in the afternoon, she decided it couldn’t wait any longer and she invited Phillip to dinner, and unintentional cruelty. He’d remain oblivious until Ulie hit him with her news… in public. “What was I thinking? Phillip will be crushed, and I made sure there will be witnesses.”

  Ulie wondered if she could still cancel, maybe feign an illness and think on it another night. “No. I can’t keep stringing him along. I have to tell him and get it over with.” Taking a deep breath, she stirred her drink.

  Ulie sipped the blended margarita. Its salted rim complimented the hefty portion of tequila she talked the bartender into pouring. Ulie hoped the alcohol would make what she needed to say easier. The last difficult conversation she initiated resulted in Chuck throwing her out of their house. Things might not get as heated tonight, but she knew it would be unpleasant. She dreaded hurting anyone, especially someone who had been nothing but kind to her in his own old-fashioned way.

  Wearing a wide smile, Ulie’s fiancé waved from the doorway. He beamed as he caught her eye.

  Ulie’s heart sank, but she smiled kindly, and walked toward him leaving her drink on the bar.

  “You look lovely,” Phillip said. He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

  Ulie blushed in embarrassment, the guilt nearly bringing her to tears. “Thank you, Phillip. You look handsome.”

  They followed a hostess to their table and sat opposite each other. Ulie fidgeted with her silverware.

  “I’m starving!” Phillip swept his silverware aside and dropped the cloth napkin in his lap. He picked up a menu and began studying it.

  “Before we order, Phillip…” Ulie bit her lip, still fidgeting with her silverware. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Setting his menu down, Phillip smiled at her graciously. “Anything, my dear.”

  Ulie cringed. It was going to be worse than she thought. Just then, the waiter appeared to take their drink orders.

  Phillip ordered a glass of Merlot.

  Ulie ordered a Long Island Iced Tea.

  Phillip chuckled. “That’s a serious drink, darling. Are you bracing to break up with me?”

  Ulie shuddered. She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she stared at the table, fingering the corner of her napkin. After what seemed like years of silence, and with trembling hands, Ulie slipped Phillip’s ring off her finger and set it on the table. She hated herself for hurting him and for not having the courage to look him in the eye as she did it.

  Phillip stopped breathing, all color draining from his face. “Oh dear.” He picked up his napkin, gingerly placing it back on the table. “Do you care to tell me why?” His voice had a sharp edge, and it cut Ulie’s vulnerable heart.

  Slowly, Ulie lifted her gaze to Phillip’s green eyes. “I’m in love with someone else.”

  Phillip leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “How did this happen? You never spoke of anyone else.” His eyes searched hers, darting back and forth.

  “I met him long before you…before I divorced.” Ulie choked on the words, realizing how terrible it all sounded. “I thought he didn’t love me, but…” Her voice wilted as her eyes pleaded with Phillip for understanding. When he refused to show any kindness, she looked away. Tears boiled down her face in hot rivulets.

  Phillip didn’t say another word. He nodded sharply and stood, pushing his chair away from the table.

  Ulie’s eyes darted up to meet his. “Phillip, I’m sorry!” But it was too late. He donned his jacket, snatched the ring, and strode to the door.

  Ulie sat motionless, ignoring the onlookers and their whispers. Guilt and relief buffeted her in turns as she fought to regain her composure. When she had suggested they meet for dinner, Ulie had envisioned a somber, but cordial dinner discussion. Maybe they would cry a little, but in the end, she naively wanted them to depart as friends.

  The evening had turned a less pleasant direction, but Phillip’s hasty departure had, at least, saved them both from enduring a lengthy public shaming.

  Ulie considered what ending their relationship might mean for her at the university. Would Phillip try to retaliate? Ulie didn’t think so. A professor could certainly wreak havoc on a student’s academic life, even a graduate student. Still, Ulie couldn’t fathom Phillip seeking revenge. It wasn’t in his character.

  “But he might try to change my mind with some romantic gesture,” she thought. Having to turn him away once had been heartbreaking; doing it repeatedly would be unbearable. If he chose to fight for her, she’d be forced to hurt him again. She had made up her mind. Ulie hoped he wouldn’t abandon his old-fashioned values and place emotion above manners.

  Gathering her courage, Ulie wiped the tears from her cheeks and neck with her napkin. She rose to her feet, ducked her head, and hurried out of the restaurant.

  Exhausted, Ulie slipped out of her clothes and into bed. The covers were cool yet warmed quickly as she snuggled beneath them and unlocked her phone. Ulie took a deep breath, selected Noah’s Facebook profile, and pressed the message icon. Exhaling, she began to type.

  “Hey…I’m sorry for…I’m just sorry, and I’m ready to talk.” Send. Ulie held her breath for the first few seconds, willing tiny bubbles to start dancing at the bottom of the screen. Unexpectedly, she yawned and stretched under the covers. She groaned. “I’m more tired than I thought.” Curling up again, she held the phone close, yawning a second time and closing her eyes.

  Ulie fell asleep with the phone still cradled in her hand. As her body relaxed, her fingers fell open and the device eventually fell into the cushiony folds of the comforter.

  ****

  Ulie opened her eyes. Groggy, she noticed morning sunlight peeking through her partially open bedroom door.

  “My phone!”

  She swept her hands over the blankets, searching. It had been in the bed with her when she fell asleep. “Gotcha!” Ulie flattened her back to the mattress and brought the phone to eye level above her face. Her heart jumped! She had three unread messages.

  Closing her eyes, she sent a silent prayer. “Please, God, let these be good news!”

  She hovered her finger above the message icon and stopped. “Not yet.” Ulie propelled herself out of bed and ran on tiptoes to the bathroom, peeling her underwear off along the way. She didn’t want to open the messages with messy hair and a night’s worth of sleep on her body. She wanted to be clean and presentable when she read Noah’s messages, as if standing in front of him physically.

  Hot water splashed over her, making her gasp. Clouds of white steam thickened the air. Ulie relished the feeling of excitement charging through her veins as she shampooed and rinsed. Anticipation kept a nervous smile painted on her face as she scrubbed her body, rinsed again, and toweled off. It wasn’t until she stood in front of the mirror evaluating her figure, as she had a habit of doing, that Ulie’s excitement began to fade.

  Her thoughts turned to darker moments, when she felt abandoned and manipulated by Noah.

  “I trusted him completely. What if Miranda and her friend are wrong? What if this is all some elaborate set up, intended to hurt me again?”

  Ulie’s stomach flip-flopped, and her knees wobbled, and she leaned against the sink for support.

  “Even if the kids are right, I rejected him, over and over. What if Noah doesn’t feel the same way anymore?”

  Ulie dry heaved into the sink.

  “Mom? Are you okay?” Miranda knocked on the open bedroom door.

  Ulie splashed cool water on her face. �
��I’m fine, sweetie. I’ll be out in a minute.” She stared her reflection in the eyes.

  “Stop worrying and read the damn messages.” Ulie nodded and finished preparing for the day.

  Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she joined Miranda in the kitchen. A hot cup of coffee waited on the counter for her. “Thank you,” she said. “I needed this.”

  Miranda smiled, buttering a piece of toast.

  Ulie took her cup and phone to the table and sat. “Here’s the moment of truth,” she said. She took a sip and set the mug down.

  “Wait!” Miranda squealed, dropping her toast and running to the table. She started dragging the other chair toward her mom.

  Ulie hid the phone against her chest and turned away. “I don’t think so!”

  Crestfallen, Miranda left the chair. She retrieved her toast along with a glass of orange juice and retuned, slumping in the chair.

  “Oh, don’t be such a drama queen.” Ulie laughed and opened the messaging app.

  The first message read, “Can I call you?”

  The second, “I didn’t realize the time. You must be sleeping. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  The third message arrived a few minutes after the other two. It had its own time stamp. “Ulie, I want you to know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I hope you won’t change your mind, although, I understand if you do. I miss everything about you. I miss us.”

  Ulie’s eyes clouded as tears streamed down her cheeks. She held the phone against her chest and sobbed quietly.

  Miranda put a hand on her mom’s arm, worry written plainly on her face. Her large brown eyes filled with tears of their own.

  Ulie shook her head, emphatically, wiping at her eyes and allowing a smile to shine through.

  Miranda hugged her mom. “Good news then?”

  “Yes, baby, good news.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two (September)

  Moving home to Alaska had always seemed like a step in the wrong direction; a public admission of defeat. Once a person left the nest, they were not supposed to climb back in. They were meant to forge their own way and make a new life for themselves. So why did Ulie feel overwhelming excitement as she planned to do just that?