Just One Thing (12 page)

She smiled, as if the memory was a happy one for her as well. “I remember.”

“I don’t know if I ever told you how much that day meant to me. Every time I took Bernie for a walk, or snuggled with him, I thought of you.”

“Some people might not see being compared to a dog as a compliment, but I understand what you’re saying, and I do take it as such. Thank you.”

“I never said it, but thank you, too.”

“For a trip to the pound?”

“No, for letting me think that Dad was perfect. I think that day on the beach was the day I realized how much you loved me. Love me.”

My mother blinked rapidly and I was struck with the thought that Marion Jones Morrow might be on the verge of tears.

“I know I’ve never been a demonstrative mother. I wasn’t raised that way. My parents, your grandparents, weren’t like that. I never learned how to be . . .” She hesitated, searching for a word. “Cuddly.” She threw my own long-ago word back at me, but she smiled as if to say it was okay.

“But Lexie, I have loved you since the moment you were born. I would do anything for you. I let you believe your father was perfect because you needed someone more effusive than I could be.”

I reached across the table and took her hand. “I know that. That kind of unconditional love is precious. Thank you.”

She squeezed my hand, then let go and took a sip of her Guinness. “This isn’t what I imagined a Guinness would taste like.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, very much.”

I went back to The Corner Bar the following Monday.

I wasn’t sure if the bar would feel different, now that I’d come with someone else on a day that wasn’t a Monday. I worried that like a fairy-tale character, I’d somehow broken the magic by pressing for more.

I walked through the doorway that Monday evening and stood a moment. Maybe a third of the tables had people at them. The signs for various beers still twinkled merrily. Jerry sat on his regular barstool, and Sam turned from a drink he was making and smiled at me.

A wave of relief swept through me. The bar was still the same. My Monday magic was still in place.

Relief spread through my body as Sam slid me a pint of the Guinness. It made me smile.

I took a long sip of the thick, frothy head. “Now, that’s a beer.”

“One thing,” he said, sounding as cheerful as I felt.

“The kids had graduated and were both working adults. Lee and I were divorced. I still wasn’t doing any of my own pottery, or anything else that could be remotely labeled artistic. But I was dating a very nice man named Jensen and I was happy. Not one of those bone-deep happinesses, but a quiet, not-in-pain sort. It was quite a lovely respite.”

“Degrees of happiness?” Sam asked.

I nodded.

Lexie hummed as she got ready for her date with Jensen. He was a nice man. A banker. Not a teller, but rather someone who sat at a desk and gave out loans and investment advice. He liked to talk about work. It wasn’t exactly scintillating conversation. She frequently zoned out as he droned on and on, but she found the sound of his voice soothing. She liked that what he did excited him, even if the idea of working with numbers and money all day gave her the willies and occasionally reminded her of Lee.

The doorbell rang and she hurried down the stairs.

“Jens—” was as far as she got, because it wasn’t him. It was Lee.

“You look nice,” he said.

She glanced down at her khaki-colored pants and simple black shirt. She’d added a scarf and thought it gave her a jaunty, carefree look, but she wasn’t sure she liked that Lee had noticed. They were divorced. He shouldn’t notice how she was dressed. But instead of saying that, or even mentioning she’d been thinking about him, she simply said, “Uh, thanks.”

“You’re going out?”

She nodded.

“Then I won’t keep you. I’m going to Connie’s on Saturday. Just for the day. I thought maybe you’d like to come along.”

“With you?” Drive to Cleveland with her ex? That didn’t sound wise, despite the momentary spurt of interest.

He nodded.

“To see Connie?”

He nodded again.

“You never asked me when she was in college and you were going to visit.”

“I’m asking now,” he said simply.

Lexie had been feeling happy a few moments ago as she got ready for her date with Jensen, but as she thought about spending a day with Lee, she felt beyond mildly happy. She felt practically giddy.

Giddy with glee.

It had been a long time since she’d felt that way.

“Yes.” I looked at Sam. “I told him yes. And for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t just feel happy.
Happy
can be a flat, sort of even, word. It’s a go-with-the-flow and fill-in-the-cracks word. I’m not sad or mad, so I must be happy. But standing there, at my door, dressed for a date with another man, a nice man, talking about spending a day in the car with my ex-husband, I felt glee. And glee is as different from happy as sad is from despair.”

“Degrees of happy,” he repeated. This time it was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

I didn’t want him to ask what happened next. I didn’t want to remember that now. I wanted to bask in the warm glow of that long-ago glee. So, I asked, “One thing?”

“Through no fault of my own, I healed.”

“Well, I’m leaving,” Grid said one day, out of the blue.

Sam had been out of rehab for six months. Though he still used a cane, he felt as if he was walking well. His mother had been after him to move back home with her. She tried to sound convincing when she told him that she was lonely since his father died. But he knew she was dating a new guy, and figured the last thing she needed was a grown son hanging around.

He knew she loved him, but right now, her love felt suffocating. She would have waited on him hand and foot, and wouldn’t understand he didn’t need that. He couldn’t deal with it. Grid, on the other hand, made it a point of not waiting on him. If he wanted a drink, then he damned well better haul himself off the couch and get it.

Even when Grid pissed him off, Sam knew that his friend understood his need to be self-sufficient.

So he’d gently told his mother no and stayed in town at an apartment he rented with Grid. A run-down, two-bedroom in Oakland. Grid had made sure he’d rented something with stairs—which wasn’t hard since Oakland felt as if it were one giant hill. He claimed the extra steps were part of Sam’s PT.

“Hot date?” Sam asked. Grid had a way with women. He genuinely liked them. Oh, he didn’t stick with one for any
length of time, but he didn’t use them. He liked them, and they liked him in return.

“No, I’ve got a job offer. A security firm in California. I’m taking it. Who knows, maybe some hot starlet’s going to meet me and fall under my spell.”

The star part was meant to be humor, and somehow Sam managed to laugh, but it was hard because he knew the job part wasn’t a joke. He counted on Grid. When everyone else pussyfooted around him, Grid just called things as he saw them and didn’t take any guff.

Sam realized how much he was going to miss him. “Oh. That’s great, Grid.”

“The bar’s going to need a new bartender with me gone. Chuck said come on down and interview. And by interview, he means you’ve got the job.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure I can stand eight hours a day.”

“I mentioned that you were a bit gimpy, though he’s met you, so he knows. He said you could have the afternoon shift; it’s slower then. And he doesn’t have a problem with you sitting down on the job.”

Sam was better, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to be out in the real world on a daily basis. “I—”

“Listen, I kicked your ass before, don’t make me do it again. It’s a job. It’s some cash in your pocket and it will get you out with people. You don’t realize it, but you need people.”

“Grid, you are a pain in the ass.” When Grid had first come to town Sam had said those words, or something similar, practically every day. But now, he said it with no anger or
frustration, but rather with gratefulness. Without Grid, he might still be in that rehab hospital staring out a window.

“A pain in the ass who is generally right. I know, I know; it’s a curse. I try not to flaunt my rightness, but hey, it’s there. Like an elephant in the room. You can’t help but notice that I’m right so often.”

“When’s your flight?” Sam asked, with a grin, which he knew had been Grid’s intent.

“Tomorrow morning. But tonight, we’re going down to the bar and I’m going to introduce you around.”

“Go to hell,” he said, without much heat.

“Buddy, we were already there and, through no fault of our own, we made it back. It’s time we both find whatever measure of happiness we can.”

“Thanks to Grid, I healed. I worked in the bar. I made friends. I rebuilt my life. Later, I bought this place and met you.” He took my hand.

“I’m glad,” was all I said in response. Just two small words, but they conveyed so much.