heading into the living room as Justin gazed at the stranger.
“For God’s sake, Juss.” Andrea went to the table, where groceries waited. All the cold stuff was put away, and she unloaded a bag; more pasta, which Thom had admitted wasn’t half bad, microwave popcorn, which he couldn’t wait to try. Boxes of Wheaties, his usual breakfast, and some saltines, what he used to eat by the handful when visiting her. Andrea’s father would swear a blue streak when he found all the crackers were gone.
Those items sat amid extra coffee and Bisquick, grated parmesan cheese and jars of spaghetti sauce. They bought different varieties; he wanted to try them all. Several packages of ground beef waited in the fridge, along with mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, and mushrooms. Thom had decided to sample her favorites, but a five-pound bag of potatoes sat on the counter near onions and garlic, a chuck roast with the hamburger. They would alternate the menu.
Justin eyed all the dry goods, another package of toilet paper as well, something Andrea bought infrequently, but with another under the roof… “Justin, what?”
“Huh?”
He stared at her, then back to the toilet paper. Then he sighed. “Grandma, you don’t know this guy from Adam.”
She chuckled, then sat down. “Juss, I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you.”
He rolled his eyes, but she didn’t mind, he got it from her. Carl had never done it, but all the kids did, something she picked up from the man sitting in the other room. It had driven her mother up the wall, added to the list of Thom’s irritating habits. Andrea wanted to tell Justin all that. Instead she smiled. “Juss, Thom’s gonna be living with me, and if that’s a problem…”
He blushed, then looked to the floor. “Jesus Christ Grandma!”
“Well, if he shows up, we’ll make room.”
Justin stood, heading to the doorway, then stopped. Thom tapped his boot, as if a warning. Justin turned around, kneeling by Andrea. “Grandma, who the fuck is he?”
His voice was soft but biting. “Like I said. I’ve known him a long time and…”
“That doesn’t answer my question!” He stood, then glared at the wall separating the rooms. Then he gestured to the groceries. “And I suppose you paid for everything and…”
Andrea pushed herself from the table. Last night lingered in a sweet but tiring manner. “Justin, I am seventy-two and don’t need to answer to you, your mom, your aunt, or anyone else. Thom’s my friend, is gonna live here. If you don’t like it…”
“Grandma, this’s nuts! We don’t even know who he is and…”
Thom cleared his throat, stepping into the doorway. “Can I say something?”
Andrea nodded as Justin shook his head. “Now Juss…”
Thom stared at Justin. “You’ve got a valid point, I could be anyone. I’ll tell you exactly who I am, if you really wanna know.”
“Yeah, okay.” Justin crossed his arms, a small smile slipping over his face. “You tell me just who the hell you really are.”
Thom took slow steps, then stood beside Andrea. “I’m…”
Laurel burst through the screen door. “Don’t you say another word!”
Siblings stood far from the house; Laurel’s arms went between gripping her brother to back around herself. Toes were dug into the ground, gazes went up and down, then back to the house, where from the kitchen table, Andrea couldn’t do more than peek at them. Voices were too far away, not even Thom could hear their conversation.
“Whatdya think she’s telling him?” he asked, a half-empty plate of saltines in front of him on the table.
“God only knows.” Andrea sighed. “I hope she didn’t tell him you were Carl’s…”
“Oh Jesus no.” Thom smiled, then took a cracker. “Maybe the truth?”
Andrea snorted. “Oh, he’d never believe that.”
What could Laurel be offering, something plausible, as Justin hadn’t come back immediately. Something not so shocking, or tires would have been spinning. Andrea wanted to stretch her legs, but that would have looked like eavesdropping. Then she found Thom’s smile. “What?”
“Whatever it is has to explain more than just some stranger knocking on your door.”
“Yeah?”
Thom ate the cracker, then stood, getting some water. He drank it near the sink, setting the cup on the windowsill. “If she’s accepted what you told her, then she’s gotta assume I’m here for, well, awhile. So whatever she’s concocted’s gotta be enough that they, you know.”
“What?”
He returned, sitting beside her. Thom took her hand, then kissed it. “That I’m not just gonna be sleeping on the sofa.”
They exchanged warm grins. She looked to the counters, food everywhere, that extra toilet paper almost indecent, like they had bought some rubbers. She stroked his face, then leaned his way, kissing him. Suddenly she wasn’t looking at him with old eyes, or assuming he saw her that way. She was any age she wanted to be.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too.”
Their heads came together at their brows, a gentle nuzzle. They only pulled apart as footsteps were heard, two pairs. Laurel came in first. She was tired, also looked successful. Justin stared at the floor, hands shoved into his pockets.
Andrea stood, kissing her granddaughter. “Well, you two hash it out?”
Justin looked up, clearing his throat. Then he pulled out his hands, cracking his knuckles. “I uh, shit.” He stared right at Thom. “I’m sorry, very sorry. I had no right to come in and…”
“I told Justin that Mr. Sugerman was from church.” Laurel glanced at Andrea. “And that you just hadn’t gotten around to telling us about him.”
“From church,” Andrea said slowly. “And…”
“And again, I’m uh, I’m sorry.” Justin’s gaze darted between Andrea and Thom, then to the floor.
Thom stood, putting out his hand. “No trouble. I hope we get a chance to start over.”
Justin met his eyes, then shook. “I’d like that sir.”
Andrea nearly choked. “Well, yeah, that’d be good.” She stared at Laurel, who didn’t give anything away.
“Well, I should be going. Grandma, I’ll uh, give you a call in a day or two. Laurel, I’ll uh, see you later.” Justin turned for the door and Thom walked him out, asking about his car. The chatter was stilted at first, what Andrea could hear. Then it grew warm as Thom’s laughter rang all the way back to the house.
Andrea smiled, then pointed to a chair. Laurel shook her head. “I need to get something first.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“That he was a recovering alcoholic and had been helping you out, and now he needed a place to stay.”
“Oh good lord!” Andrea sat, shaking her head.
Laurel looked at the screen, then back to Andrea. “I have the pictures Grandma.”
“I wondered. Did you…”
“I didn’t say a word to anyone.”
Andrea nodded as Thom returned. “Well, he’s got a nice car.”
“Thought you might like that pony.” Justin owned an old Mustang, which was still a few years after Thom’s era, but definitely something Thom would have wanted to drive. Andrea looked at Laurel. “You wanna get them now?”
“Get what, and what’d you tell him?” Thom asked.
“I’ll let Grandma tell you.” Laurel headed outside.
Thom took a seat next to Andrea. “So?”
“You’re a recovering drunk, just like their father.”
“Jesus Christ!” Thom looked to the door. “Well, that explains a lot. He even patted my shoulder.”
Andrea nodded. “Cat divorced Mark before Carl died. Mark got sober about five, six years ago, has a good relationship with the kids now. But you showed up looking pretty rough, probably reminded Justin of his dad, you know, from the old days.”
“What’d she go get?”
“Proof,” Andrea said, squeezing his hand. “It might hurt.”
“Yeah?�
��
She didn’t say anything as Laurel returned, a cigar box in hand.
The box had been Carl’s from after they had the girls. He smoked cigars for a time, and Andrea liked the containers. The scent wasn’t ordinary tobacco, but she hadn’t put these photos into it right away. She liked to air the boxes out. Then she had placed pictures into one, sliding it under old pantsuits in her second to bottom drawer.
After Carl died, she had inspected them. Before that, she couldn’t remember when she had last seen these snapshots, all from 1960 through 1962, the years Thom was her boyfriend. She explained all that, then looked at Thom. “You wanna see these?”
He nodded, then cleared his throat. “You think I shouldn’t?”
What was more painful, the ancient past, or days recently lived? “I just wanted to ask.”
“Open it up.”
Andrea nodded to Laurel, who lifted the lid. They were organized by date, the newest picture on top. Thom was standing next to Andrea, taken by Andrea’s older sister Donnie just a few days before Andrea turned twenty-two.
Thom stared at it, then held it by the edges, as it was fifty years old. Yet he wore the same boots, probably the same jeans, standing beside not Laurel, although she could pass for her grandmother. He glanced at Laurel first, then to Andrea. Then he returned to the photograph. “Donnie took this just a few days back. Film’s probably still in her camera.”
“Probably,” Andrea said.
His recent history was in these dog-eared snapshots with curling edges. He set that one down, then took the next, examining it as thoroughly as the first. Andrea saw how badly he wished to weep, but wouldn’t do so with Laurel there.
He only looked at one more
50 Years Waiting Page 6