PopcornJackTerry

(For those of you who read the first installment, I’ve added names. Dave and Barbara are the couple and Carl is the visitor. If you haven’t, you can read it here.)

The kids, having buried the Pop-Tarts in their stomach with eggs, bacon and toast, had run back outside to continue whatever came Carl had been playing with them before. This time they modified the rules for two people instead of three, because Carl was still sitting at the table with Allison and Dave, a collection of empty plates strewn about, half empty coffee mugs getting the occasional nod of attention.

“What brings you back to town today?”

“Nephew’s baptism this afternoon.”

Carl looked at the clock in the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to miss the service?”

“If I’m lucky,” Dave laughed. “My family has a pretty strict understanding of who I am and how I operate. They know I work late on Saturdays and aren’t really expecting me to make it to the church. It’s not like the kid is going to know I’m not there.”

“How old is he?” Barbara asked.

“Eight months?” Dave said. “Nine? I get confused. I’ll let you know when I get an invite to his birthday party later this year and then I can count backwards.”

“Rebecca couldn’t make it?” Dave didn’t know much about Rebecca, only that she and Carl had been dating long enough that she’d been with him the last couple of times he’d swung by this way.

“She’s actually out of town for work, which is…” Whatever it was he couldn’t quite figure out, so instead he made a move to get up and collect some dishes but Barbara stopped him.

“Nonsense. I’ve got it.”

“Really, I don’t mind. I was going to get more coffee anyway.”

“Sit.” So he did. “You’re the guest.” She grabbed a couple of plates and headed off to the sink. Dave hadn’t forgotten what it was Carl hadn’t said. “Which is what?”

“Well you know how it is. Or at least you did I imagine,” he laughed, not the casually sound that his nieces and nephews, both those who shared his last name and those who were more of the honorary persuasion, knew to be exclusively him but one that was trying to make light of a long story. “There’s a point early in the relationship where you aren’t sure if it’s time for them to be part of a big family even yet.”

“It’s kind of an important part. How you handle it says a lot for how the future of the relationship will go.”

“Precisely. Which is why her being out of town is kind of a…deal, you know? I’m not sure if we were ready to have the discussion, so this way we don’t have to.” He laughed again, still uneasy and fully at himself. “Gives us something to look forward to.”

When Barbara returned with the pot, Dave and Carl were sitting in an uneasy silence and she wondered what she possibly could have missed in just a few seconds. Without asking, she collected the rest of the dirty plates and slipped back out of the frame.

Over the sound of water running in the kitchen Carl held the coffee mug in one hand and absentmindedly slipped the coin from his pocket with the other. Just as unconsciously he began to run the coin down his fingers before palming it and returning it to the start of the line.

“Neat trick.”

“Learned it playing poker in college years ago. Probably about the only part of playing poker that was ever beneficial to me.” He raised his hand so Dave could have a better view. “I’ve never been able to do it with anything smaller than this though. I see guys using quarters, nickels, even saw a dude with fingers as big as mine work a dime this way, but I just don’t have the patience, talent or desire to figure out how.

Dave watched the chip dance across Carl’s undulating fingers a few more times. “Which chip is that?”

Even though he didn’t need to he stopped and looked at it. “Eighteen months.” When Dave said nothing in reply, Carl suddenly felt the need to keep talking.

“It’s a couple months old actually, but they treat these like they do my nephew, you know? When kids are born they age by the month. ‘How old is your son?’ ‘He’s three months, seven months, nine months,’ whatever. Once a year comes and goes, most people stop with that. I mean a few do, but my guess is they’re the ones who are most concerned that the kid looks too big or too small or too dumb or too something and they want to justify it somehow, ‘Oh he’s 14 months but he’s small for his age,’ sort of thing. The rest of the world jumps to 18 months and qualifiers like ‘soon to be’ and ‘just turned a while ago.’ Then, after the second birthday party, fuck it, nobody cares except the
kid himself. We start counting by years.”

He danced to coin a couple more times but he could feel his fingers trembling, and it wasn’t from the coffee. He could talk to almost anybody – strike that, he could talk to anybody – about the journey he was on, but some people made him more self-conscious about it than others. Dave was one of those people. Carl knew it was because of the shared history, and part of him was ashamed at how different things had turned out between them while another part was angry that Dave seemingly had his shit together while Carl felt like he was still picking up the pieces of his life, still paying for some mistakes they both made in the past. But the anger just brought more shame, because he knew it wasn’t Dave’s fault any more than it was the man on the moon’s. That was one of the things they tried to teach him at the meetings, but it was a lesson he didn’t have to learn. He’d grown up watching blame get placed anywhere but where it belonged, and he swore if nothing else he wouldn’t turn out like the example setter of the house.

How’d that work out for him? Thought so.

Anxious for anything else to talk about he asked the most traditional of questions. “What are you all doing today?”

“Barbara wants to take the kids out to an orchard.”

“To do what? Pick apples?”

“Spoken like an uncle and not a father. That’s about the one thing they can’t do there. They have a small petting zoo and pony rides, I think there’s face painting and a few other activities, all with some sort of autumnal connection. Though I do know Bad Boy Brewery is going to be there with ciders and fall beers, so it probably won’t be too bad.”

“Keeps you from having to rake the lawn.”

“I’m telling you, if I could harness half the energy my kids burn off, I’d never have to do a lick of yard work again in my life.”

“You just have to tell them that mowing and raking is some kind of a game.”

“Too late. They’ve seen me complain about it enough to know that it’s a grown up thing and they want no part of it.”

She was happy to see whatever had drifted into the conversation before has dissipated. “How long can you stay?”

It was Carl’s turn to look at the clock. “Ugh. Not any longer. The price for missing the service means I need to be the first one at the house for the party.” He rose from the table and with the easy grace of a guest who helped paint the walls, fix the plumbing, move in the furniture and spend several night s a year there he took his coffee cup to the kitchen. “I should be back Tuesday late afternoon, early evening. You’ll be around?”

“I will, but Dave might not be.” She turned to him. “What time does the meeting end?”

“Never early enough.” He’d gotten up and stood on the threshold of the kitchen. “I’m actually going to be in your territory. Meeting with clients in the city. Hopefully I should be home by 7.”

“Well maybe I’ll see you, but no promises.” He extended the handle of the rolling suitcase. “Rebecca left Thursday and I’m sure I’ll be in a hurry to get back to see her, but you never know. Six days means she might have forgotten all about me.”

It was a joke that nobody found funny, but all for different reasons. Not wanting to set up another punchline, he simply smiled and walked out the back door. They watched him hug each of their children goodbye before starting up the car he kept parked at their house and pulled out of the driveway, a toot of the horn and a rustle of leaves announcing his departure.

To be continued…