Four Friends (13 page)

“But it took two weeks longer than my estimate,” he said. “The sooner the better, you said. I should probably give you a discount.”

Beau was sitting right in front of the kitchen sink, alert, wagging his tail expectantly. Andy walked toward him and reached into the jar of dog cookies she’d been keeping for weeks. Whenever she came home, he got a cookie and a pat. Then he’d lie back down, content, polite.

“I just don’t know what I’ll do without you,” she sniffed. “I couldn’t have gotten through the past month if you hadn’t been here almost every day.”

He gave her a sweet smile. “Come over here and sit down,” he said. “Let’s talk this through.”

She sat across from him at the breakfast bar. There in front of him was his final invoice, the balance due, her house key sitting on top of it, and it nearly made her crumble. He reached his hands across the short space and took both of hers. His fingers were thick, his nails clean and trim, calluses on his fingers and palms. It was the first time they’d actually touched and she loved the feel of his hands.

He gave hers a little squeeze. “You did get through it, Andy. You’re going to be fine. You rise again and again, remember?”

“Because of you,” she said. “You helped with everything.”

He shook his head. “Nah, that’s not true. You’ve been through a rough time. You’re a little vulnerable, that’s all. Just talking about things probably helped—it usually does. But you’re young, beautiful, you have good friends, that son of yours—he seems like a fine boy. I can’t help thinking what a comfort it must be to have a son—you’ll never be alone.”

“I’m not young, Bob. Or beautiful...” She sniffed.

He laughed. “I guess it all depends on where you’re standing. That’s how you seem to me. Really, if you’ll just think about it, you have every reason to be happy, have a nice life.”

She grabbed a tissue off the gleaming new counter. But then she immediately took his hand again, not wanting to let go.

“What is it now? You’ve always been so positive,” he said. “In the worst of it, you haven’t been this emotional. I don’t even remember you getting upset when the TV and stereo went away.”

She chuckled through her tears and shrugged. “Because I was never so happy to see anything go away in my life!”

“There you go,” he said. “You’re about to start a whole new life.” He grinned. “With a whole new kitchen!”

“Why’d I have to do the kitchen?” she said. “I live alone. Noel’s hardly ever here and I sure don’t cook for myself. I don’t even like to cook very much.”

“But don’t you just have the slickest counter, the prettiest wallpaper to look at while you’re eating your takeout?” He laughed and pulled his hands back. “I’ve enjoyed it, too, Andy. We were lucky—we had a good working relationship. Doing this kitchen was pure joy for me.”

“It was?” she asked.

“It was indeed. I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun. But I have a favor to ask. Would it be all right to come back on the weekend, when it’s nice and sunny in the kitchen, and get a few pictures of the finished job? It’s for the book I showed you, the one I use to show potential clients.” He lifted his chin and looked around. “I’m especially proud of this one. I owe it to you—you let me have my way about some things I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

She glanced over her shoulder. He’d talked her into the wine rack right in the breakfast bar, the paint trim around the wallpaper, the black granite with the blond wood, the smoky glass in the cupboard doors, scalloped trim underneath. She looked back at him. “It’s awesome.” She stood and went to the cupboard for two wineglasses. “We’re going to toast it,” she said. She pulled a bottle of wine out of the new rack. “Pinot Noir okay with you?”

“Fantastic,” he said.

She removed the cork, poured them each a small amount and watched as Bob swirled, sniffed, tasted, gave a nod. She poured them a little more and lifted her glass. “To your amazing talent,” she said, composed once again.

“To your trust, patience and money,” he replied with a laugh, touching her glass.

“Money!” she said. “I have to write you a check.”

“After the wine, Andy. Nothing better than enjoying a job well done.”

“You really put your heart into it, Bob. And cleaned up so nicely.”

“I’m afraid the rest of the house is probably a disaster from all the construction dust. It’s the nature of the beast.”

“I’ll give it a good cleaning on Saturday. Why don’t you come over on Sunday? Hey, how about dinner on Sunday, after your pictures are taken?”

“That’s awful nice, Andy, but I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t like to cook for one thing.”

“I’ll make an exception for a really good carpenter. Noel might be here, too—of course, I have to schedule an appointment with him.”

“Kids,” he said laughing. “It’s a real busy time of life. All right—what the heck. But only if you promise not to get all weepy on me again. I can’t stand to see you sad about anything.”

“I promise,” she said, smiling. She reached for her purse and got out her checkbook. She wrote a check, tore it out and pushed her purse aside. Bob’s hand was out to accept the payment, but she put it on the counter and slid it away. “No,” she said. “First tell me one more time about growing up on that farm up north. About your dad and your sisters.”

So he told her another story about his dynamic father, the strength in their family, a man of great humor and understanding—probably what had helped her form that image of Bob as the head of a clan of fun, hardworking, life-loving people. When he got to the part where his father died too young—only sixty-four—for a moment Andy identified with Sonja, feeding her husband grass and herbs, lighting candles around him to keep him balanced and healthy and safe for as many years as possible.

The thing about Bob was, even when he got to that part where he lost his father, he could tell it pleasantly, as though that was also an important passage in his life. His memories of the man were stronger than his grief at the loss.

She picked up the wine bottle to pour, but he put a hand over the top of his glass. “I have to go, Andy. Connie is just home from the hospital after her gallbladder surgery.”

“Oh,” she said. “She probably needs your help.”

“No,” he smiled. “She’s all taken care of, but I’d like to visit with her for a little while. I like to make her laugh and watch her grab her fat middle and groan.”

“That’s evil.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s a side of me I just can’t control.” He reached for the check, folded it and slipped it in his pocket. “What time on Sunday? I’d like to come before it’s too late—I want to get pictures while it’s light in here.”

“Is five too late?”

“That should be perfect. I’ll see you then. Come on, Beau. Time to go.”

The dog got up and went directly to the back door, wagging his tail and looking over his shoulder at Bob.
I might just have to get a dog,
Andy thought.

“Thank you,” he said. “See you Sunday.”

When he was gone, she leaned her forehead against the door and felt the sting of tears again.
What in the hell is the matter with me,
she wondered.
I’m out of my mind!

* * *

Noel and Jed had been inseparable in grade school, played on the same sports teams in middle school, were good buddies who drifted in different directions in high school. While they developed individual interests, they always remained close even when they didn’t spend a lot of time together. After graduation they attended the same community college—each of their mothers had decided they needed a year to mature before going to a large university—but they didn’t have any of the same classes. Jed leaned toward pre-law while Noel was more interested in the arts. Plus, Jed had Tracy—girlfriends took up time.

When they were little they looked as if they could have been brothers, a couple of skinny, freckled blond boys, but as they developed their own personalities, so did they come into unique appearances. Noel was a healthy, strong five-nine with clear, slightly olive skin, dark eyes and dark, curly hair like Andy’s. Jed took after his father. He was tall and lean, just over six feet reaching for Phil’s six-two, with thick, sandy-brown hair.

Despite the fact that they moved in different circles, they remained trusted confidants and the best of friends.

It was a rare Saturday night that neither had any commitments. Noel was trying to spend a little more time at his mother’s house since Bryce had left and Jed’s girlfriend was at some chick thing, leaving him on his own. Noel had called Jed to catch up and when they realized it was a free evening, they met at the park a few blocks from their houses at 10:00 p.m. They sat at a picnic table in the dark under a big tree. They could hear the noise from a raucous volleyball game on a brightly lit sand court not too far away.

Noel fired up a joint, inhaled it greedily and passed it to Jed. He held in the smoke for a moment and then let it out. “So...he around at all? Your dad?”

Jed took a healthy hit, held it. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess they have some kind of deal about who’s picking up Matt and Jess, unless one of ’em calls and tells me to do it. It happened right here, man. He was sitting right here when he told me.”

“How’d he do it?” Noel asked.

“Straight to the point. He cheated on my mom and she went out of her mind. Booted him out.”

Noel sucked on the joint, passed it back. “You think they’re gonna split?”

Jed took his hit. “They are split, man. It’s just up in the air if they stay split. I know I’m supposed to feel sorry for my mom—I mean she got the bad end, right? But my dad... Christ, he almost cried telling me. I almost hugged him, y’know?”

Noel laughed, accepted the joint. “Is this good shit or what?”

“Very good shit. I’m gettin’ high. Startin’ to think about Tracy already.”

Noel giggled. “I’ve got another one. By the time we finish it, you won’t be thinking at all....”

“So...you okay with Bryce leaving?”

“Okay?” he asked. “Okay? Aw, shit, he couldn’t leave fast enough to make me happy. Problem is, my mom thinks I should be at home all the time now.”

“You talk to her yet? Tell her what’s going on with you?”

“You know I haven’t. She’ll tell my dad. And Glenda, the stepwitch. It’s over when that happens.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Jed said. “I mean, I didn’t freak out when you told me you were gay, did I?”

“Yeah, but you’re different. It’s not like you could do anything about it. But my dad? Oh, he’s gonna do something terrible.”

Jed turned toward Noel. “Hey, man, to quote Geraldine Gilbert, the world-famous psychologist, ‘it is what it is.’”

Noel had started wondering what was wrong with him when he was thirteen. When he was sixteen he fell for a guy in his theater class and realized he’d known since way before he was thirteen, he just couldn’t put a name to it. He’d told Jed when they were both seniors. Jed wasn’t the perfectly evolved high school senior; the news caused him to jump back about six feet in shock and probably fear. His best friend, gay? That just wasn’t right.

But Noel and Jed had grown up in a part of the world where being gay wasn’t exactly breaking news. Plus Jed had a mom who dealt with difficult issues on a daily basis and while being gay in itself might not be a case for a social worker, coming out was rough, and could lead to all kinds of issues that ended up in case files. Jed’s dad worked with a few gay guys in the prosecutor’s office and what homophobic attitudes Jed might have expressed when he was younger were pretty much worked out of him by the time he hit junior high.

But Noel’s dad, Rick, the football coach, was a classic homophobe. He made frequent bigoted remarks about fairies, limp-wristers, queers. Not around the high school where he taught and coached, because that could get him in trouble, but at home he laid it on pretty thick. He liked physical, athletic, masculine guys who seemed to leave no doubt—but of course, Noel could enlighten him, it wasn’t always obvious and some of those guys were actually gay. Noel had girls all over him all the time—way more girls than Jed had ever had around. His dad found that impressive.

Noel had a couple of gay friends who shared an apartment and he spent a lot of time there where he felt most comfortable, free to be himself. He had managed, with some difficulty, to keep his parents from meeting his friends because they would know at once—they weren’t hiding their sexual orientation the way he was.

Jed and Noel talked for a while about the complications of their lives, their parents’ lives. They were about halfway through their second joint when they heard a deep male voice. “Evening, gentlemen.”

They both jumped in surprise. Jed quickly tossed the joint and it landed on the grass just a few feet away. There before them was a cop on a bike—park police. Riding up within seconds was his backup officer. “Go ahead and put your hands on your heads, all right?” the first one asked pleasantly.

“Aw, c’mon, go bother someone else,” Noel said.

“Shut up, man,” Jed warned him. “Just shut up.”

Great!
Jed thought. It wasn’t as if it was his first joint, but he wasn’t a frequent user, and he’d never been caught before. Not only did his girlfriend, Tracy, disapprove, but his dad had told him a long time ago that if he ever got picked up for anything that could embarrass him in his job, he should just assume Daddy wasn’t going to step in and try to cover for him. Jed was on his own—he’d have to face the music and his father wasn’t going to make any excuses or reel in any favors.
Figures it would have to be drugs.
Jed was more likely to have a few beers—and he never drove under the influence. Oh, no, his driving violations were all totally sober—his mother always pointed out he could be an idiot without the assistance of pot or beer.

The cops patted them down. Jed had been seen tossing the joint, which the first officer picked up. Noel, however, had a small baggie of marijuana and some rolling papers on him—that made the situation a little more serious. It wasn’t quite enough for felony possession, and he didn’t have the paraphernalia to be dealing, but he could actually go to jail if the police decided to take things to the extreme. If they didn’t like Noel’s mouthiness or were in bad moods, they could hook him up and call for a prisoner pickup. Jed had learned these things as a prosecutor’s son.