Hey, Whiskey

by Kaylee Ryan

  “It was just going to be until Gramps gets better, but I’m thinking it would be nice to hang out, you know, spend some time with him once he’s better.”

  “Can you do that? What will your parents think? You work for them, right?”

  I nod. “I do, and it doesn’t matter what they think. It’s what I’m going to do.”

  “But who will cover for you?”

  “They’ll be fine, Rosa. Mom is taking on my role until I return. She’s enjoying it, trust me,” I say with a laugh.

  “How about some breakfast?” she asks, taking my word for it.

  “I was actually going to eat with Gramps. I assume he eats up in his room?”

  She nods. “That he does. Today he’s having oatmeal and wheat toast.”

  “That sounds great. Can I help? I’d like to take it up to him if you don’t mind.”

  Her smile is soft and comforting, reminding me so much of my childhood. “You just sit there and keep me company. Won’t take but a few more minutes, and I’ll have you all set.”

  For the next five minutes, we talk about her grandkids, and she asks how my parents are doing, how I like my job, just catching up.

  “Here you go,” she says, setting a tray with an oatmeal breakfast for two in front of me. “Now, he’s a little surly, so just ignore him.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, he’s something all right. He’s angry,” I say, picking up the tray.

  “Rhett, he misses you.”

  I sigh. “I know. I’ve missed him too. I realize now I should have visited more. That’s on me, but I’m going to fix it.” With that, I stand and head for the stairs to eat breakfast with Gramps.

  The door is cracked, and I see the glow of the television. “Knock, knock,” I say and push the door open with my hip. “I thought we could eat breakfast together.” I set the tray on the side table beside his bed.

  “Where’s Rosa?” he asks.

  “In the kitchen. She made this.” I scoot the hospital-style table closer so that it’s over his bed and he can access his food.

  Once I know he can reach his, I grab my plate and begin to eat. “Did you watch the game last night?” I ask, referring to the highlights of last night’s NFL game playing on TV.

  “No.” The one-word answer is all I get as he stares at the TV.

  “Are you not going to eat?” I ask.

  “Not hungry.”

  “Come on, Gramps. Rosa went through all this trouble.” I set my plate back on the table.

  “Good morning,” Rosa says cheerfully from the doorway.

  “Rosa,” Gramps greets her, and the change in his voice and attitude is obvious.

  “What’s this I hear? You’re not hungry?” she asks, fussing with his pillow.

  “I’ll eat later,” he tells her, continuing to ignore my presence.

  “Nonsense, you two used to do this all the time,” she gushes. “Brings back good memories.” Rosa picks up his plate and hands it to him. “Now, eat up.” She holds it out for him until be begrudgingly takes it from her. “Much better. Now, I’ll be back in a few with your medication.” With that, she leaves us alone.

  “Anything you need me to take care of today at the distillery? Anything you want or need updated on?”

  “If I do, I’ll call my staff and handle it. You can go back home to your beer.”

  “Look, Gramps, I know you’re upset, and I understand why. I should have been here more than just a holiday here and there. I’m sorry. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving no matter how indifferent you are to me.” I watch him as he stares straight ahead at the television. No reply, no facial expression, just… blank stares. Releasing a heavy sigh, I grab my dishes and leave him be.

  “Where are you going?” Rosa asks as I pass her in the hallway.

  “To work. He refuses to talk to me. Keep me updated, will you, Rosa?”

  “He’ll come around, child. His feelings are hurt, but he misses you.”

  I nod. “I’ll be home later. Thanks for taking care of him.” I give her arm a gentle squeeze and head to the kitchen to drop off my dishes and head into work.

  I’m working on finding my new normal. Each day, the pain of what Pete did to me fades just a little. He’s called me a few times, and I’ve ignored every single one of his calls. However, the voice mails are rather entertaining. He gives reasons such as “calling to catch up” and “we get to find out the gender next month.” I’ve started deleting them without even listening to them. He’s a selfish asshole, and I honestly don’t know how I didn’t see it before now. Tara’s theory is that I just latched on to the security of being in a relationship. Maybe she’s right. She suggested that I talk to someone, a therapist, but honestly, I’m okay. Pain no longer slices through my chest when he calls or texts, and I no longer wake up missing him.

  It’s been two weeks today, and I’m finding that I’m okay. I expected it to take longer, but honestly, when I look at the bigger picture, he wasn’t my soul mate. Hell, I’m not sure they exist. Tara and Molly tell me otherwise. I’m still on the fence. Even so, I’m not sure it’s worth the heartache and pain when it ends. In my experience, it always ends. I lost my parents, Elaine lost Henry, I lost Elaine and Pete. I could even go as far as saying I lost Tara. Sure, we’re friends, but honestly, how often am I going to make it to visit her?

  The pain of losing Elaine, well, it’s there, as I fear it will always be, but each day I learn to cope a little better.

  Live with the loss.

  Live without her.

  My mind goes to the phone call I had with Tara last night. Colin received a job offer, a transfer within his company. They’re moving to Oregon of all places. She was adamant that the offer stands for me to go with them. She even offered to buy me a plane ticket to fly out next week for Thanksgiving. They leave this weekend, as Colin has to report on Monday. His parents are from Oregon, and they’re staying with them until they find a place. I had to reassure her that I’m good here. I have Molly and Jake to thank for that. I don’t know where I would be if I didn’t wonder into the Corner Pocket that night. I would like to believe it was Elaine that led me there. Maybe it was fate. Whatever the reason, I owe them so much. I’ve been working as many shifts as I can and saving tips. I need to get out of their hair, even though they assure me that they wouldn’t even notice I’m there if it wasn’t for my SUV in the driveway. Still, I know I can’t lean on their kindness and generosity forever.

  Being alone on Thanksgiving is not the ideal situation, but it’s one I have to get used to. Having a family is a dream, one I can honestly say I don’t know if I’m brave enough to embark on. I’ve had enough loss and pain in my life. If the alternative is spending the day lounging and watching the parade on my own, I can live with that.

  Looking around the apartment, I try to decide what to do today. It’s just a little after seven in the morning, and I don’t have to be at work until three. The apartment stays clean with just me, and I picked up groceries yesterday. My running shoes are sitting by the door. I used to run every day before moving here. Today is as good a day as any to get back in the habit. Quickly, I change into some cold weather leggings, grab a hoodie, lace up my Asics, and I’m out the door. I decide to drive to the park to run on the track. I make a mental note to talk to Molly and see if there are any other local places to run.

  The November morning air is brisk, but I know once I get started, I’ll be wanting to shed some layers, especially since it’s been months since I’ve been for a run. Locking my SUV, I strap my phone to my arm, pull up my playlist, place my earbuds in my ears, and I’m off. I can feel the smile tip my lips. I love this, and the park is beautiful. Letting all the worries and all the pain fade away momentarily, I just enjoy feeling like me again.

  Just past the half-mile marker, the paved trail dips down into a small valley with trees; most are void of leaves, but the few that remain are beautiful fall colors. The sun shines bright over the tree line. Closing my eyes, enjoying the feel of the
heat on my face, I inhale and take it all in. My eyes are closed for mere seconds, but that doesn’t matter. Before I can open them, I’m running into something tall and, from the feel of my hands on his chest, muscular. My eyes pop open. “I’m so sorry. I… ” I suddenly lose my ability to talk when I see it’s him. Whiskey Eyes from the other night.

  “Careful, Short Stack.” He glares down at me. His hands are on my shoulders to steady me, keeping me from falling on my ass.

  Once my feet are grounded, I pull my hands from his chest and jerk my earbuds out of my ears as I back away. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “Why in the hell were your eyes closed? Do you not understand how dangerous that is?” He’s scowling at me.

  “It was maybe five seconds. If you knew my eyes were closed, you should have moved out of the way,” I fire back.

  He laughs. “Right, this is my fault. Noted.” He shakes his head.

  “Yes, it is. You knew my eyes were closed, you could have stepped to the side.” I place my hands on my hips and glare at him the best that I can. I try like hell not to melt from those whiskey eyes that seem to be boring into me. Damn, he’s a gorgeous asshole.

  “Whatever you say, sweetness. Word of advice. A woman running alone should always be aware.”

  He’s pissed, and yeah, he’s got a point, but I’m pissed too. This could have been avoided if he just stepped out of the way or went around me. “Noted,” I throw his words back at him. “Catch you later, Whiskey.” Shoving my earbuds back in my ears, I don’t look back as I continue on the trail to finish my run. My happy mood is gone as I think about the way he acted. Sure, I should have had my eyes open, but it was merely seconds, and he didn’t need to be a jerk about it. It was an accident.

  By the time I’m back at Molly and Jake’s, or I guess my place, I’m still fuming.

  “Hey, Saylor, go for a run?” Molly asks as I climb out of my SUV. She’s coming down the front steps and walking toward her car.

  “Yep.” I say it with attitude, and I don’t mean to. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “Yes, sorry, just irritated.”

  “What happened? Pete?” she asks.

  I walk over to her where she’s standing by her car. “No, this jerk. He was actually in the bar my first night I worked alone. He was an asshole then, not sure why I expected anything different.”

  “Saylor, focus.” She places her hands on my shoulders. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Who hurt you?” Jake asks, walking up behind Molly.

  Great. “No, I’m not hurt. He didn’t hurt me; he’s just an asshole.” I go on to explain the story.

  “So you were running with your eyes closed?” Jake asks.

  “Yeah, and he’d seen that. He could have moved.”

  “Listen, Say, I happen to agree with him. Maybe his delivery was off, but it’s not safe. I know it’s daylight, but there are some crazy motherfuckers out there. If you’re running alone, even if you’re not, you need to be alert. Do you have mace?” he asks. I can hear the concern in his voice, see it in the way his brow is furrowed.

  “I agree,” Molly says. “Jake bought me some mace for when I run. I would have gone with you,” she tells me.

  I exhale a heavy sigh. “I know you’re both right, but this guy, he was pissed like me even being on the trail was an issue.”

  “You said he’s been in the bar?” Molly asks. “Was he bothering you then? You don’t think he followed you, do you?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “Both incidents were coincidental, I’m sure. He’s just… so damn irritating.”

  “If he bothers you again, or if this is a pattern, you need to tell me. You both need to be alert,” Jake says, pulling Molly back against his chest and kissing her temple.

  Jealousy slams into me. Just a twinge, but it’s there all the same. Even when I was with Pete, I never had that—the affectionate, loving, and concerned boyfriend. Jake is definitely one of the good ones.

  “We’re headed to the grocery store. You need anything or want to come with us?” Molly asks.

  “No, I went yesterday. I’m going to go shower and maybe take a nap before work tonight.”

  “We’ll be there tonight as well, so we can all ride together if you want,” Jake offers.

  See, one of the good guys. “Thanks, I’ll see you guys later.” With a quick hug from Molly, I head to my garage apartment. After a shower and a bagel with cream cheese, I settled on the couch. Curled up under a throw, I grab the remote and flip through the channels. Nothing. Daytime TV leaves much to be desired. Frustrated, I turn off the TV and settle in for a nap before my shift, still trying to find my new normal.

  “So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving next week?” Molly asks a few hours later. We’re both serving drinks tonight, while Jake is in the back working on the order.

  I hesitate, not wanting her to feel sorry for me. “Tara invited me to Oregon, but I passed. I figure I’ll just have a lazy day lounging around the house.”

  “You’re going to be alone?” she asks softly.

  Molly knows my history, but I don’t know if she really understands how alone I really am. “No family.” I shrug, as if saying the words doesn’t cause an ache deep in my chest.

  “Saylor,” she whispers.

  I hold up my hand to stop her. “I’m good, Molly. I promise. I’ve never had a large family. It was just Elaine and me. This is normal. It’s all I’ve ever known.” It’s true, I’ve never known anything different, but it still hurts. The emptiness is still there, still new, and the pain still beats in my chest from the loss of Elaine, the only mother and the only family I’ve ever had.

  “You’re not alone, Say. Not anymore. If you won’t go see Tara, you’re going to be with us. Jake and I, our families are not conventional. I don’t speak to my parents. They’re not happy with my life choice.” She laughs humorlessly. “I was supposed to marry a politician, follow dear old mommy’s footsteps and marry up. I’m not good enough for them.” She pauses to collect her thoughts. We’ve talked about her family, but not much. “They say Jake isn’t good for me. They refuse to see the way he loves me, the way I’m his first priority. I’ve never been happier. I don’t need them to live a full life. Sure, I wish I had them in my life, but they made their choice.” Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that family is what you make it. Jake’s upbringing was not anything to write home about. He has his uncle Jerry, who actually raised him. We’ve made our family with friends and people who look out for us, who care. It’s not just blood that makes a family.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “Elaine, she was… everything. I miss her,” I admit.

  Molly steps toward me and wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace. “Of course you do,” she says softly.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake asks.

  I can’t help but laugh. He always has perfect timing.

  “Nothing.” Molly smiles up at him. “Saylor just agreed to spend Thanksgiving with us,” she tells him.

  “Molly!” I scold her.

  “My uncle can cook, Say. You’re in for a treat,” Jake says.

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You’re not,” they both say at the same time.

  “You’re not,” Molly says again. “We want you there.” She leans into Jake. “I’m supposed to call Jerry tonight and finalize plans. I’ll let you know what time to be ready.”

  I shake my head. It’s hard to argue when I can see the sincerity in her eyes. Maybe this is my new normal.

  These last two weeks have been hectic. I’m not even sure Gramps knows the extent of what has been going on at the distillery. Numbers were down due to mechanical issues he said he would handle when he got back in the office. It’s been weeks since he’s be in. Thus, production is down, which leads to low sales. We can’t keep up with the demand. Finally, this afternoon, the line was repaired, and we are back up and running. I’ve approved overtime to anyone wh
o wants it to try to get our numbers back where they need to be. Two months the line has been down. That’s a hell of a lot of production time, considering we run three shifts around the clock. Luckily, Gramps has a great staff and the volunteers are plentiful. I can only hope that having all hands on deck helps. It’ll make tank clean-out faster, hence production times increase. At least that’s my thought process.

  When I pull up to the house, it’s dark. I assume Rosa has gone home and the night nurse has taken her place. Gramps is recovering slowly but improves each day. He stays in his room—at least when I’m home that’s where he spends most of his time. I still go to his room to eat breakfast with him every morning. I talk and hope he’s listening. I get grunts every now and then and the ever constant, “You can go home,” and “I don’t need you here.” I love the old man, but he’s pissing me the hell off. I’ve admitted I should have been here, but damn it man, he’s holding this grudge and taking this too far. I’m running his company, and he refuses to talk to me about it.

  My phone vibrates in the cupholder. Shutting off the car, I grab it, seeing Dad’s name on the screen. “Dad,” I greet him.

  “Son,” he chuckles. “How are things?”

  I sigh.

  “That good, huh?”

  “He’s pissed. I get it, I do, but he needs to let it go.”

  Dad laughs. “I know his stubborn side all too well. I know we kept most of the drama from you, but why do you think I’m here in Tennessee at the brewery and he’s there in West Virginia?”

  “I’ve never seen this side of him.” I rake my hands through my hair. Why does the old man have to be so fucking frustrating?

  “You wouldn’t.” He chuckles. “He was your hero, next to me of course,” he boasts.

  “How long is he going to be like this?” I know my father can’t really know the answer to the question, but I’m grasping at straws here.

  “Hard to tell, son. He’s always been stubborn. When I was younger, I felt it was easier to leave, start over on my own. I love him, he’s my dad, but to work with him, I don’t think we would have been able to pull it off. That’s why I sent you. If anyone can get him to pull the stubborn stick out of his ass, it’s you.”