CHAPTER 19
Riggs
“Wish you were here.”
I pour some Scotch on Dad’s grave. He didn’t drink very often, but when he did, Scotch was his poison. Beer was his second choice.
Dad passed away two years ago, and we’ve been meeting here on the Fourth of July to mark his passing ever since. This year, it’s my turn to offer the toast. It makes me chuckle to think about how Dad always took a sip before the toast. Elsie would give him such a hard time about not waiting.
I bring my hand to my mouth and cough to clear my throat.
“Dad was old-school. He didn’t smoke, but he enjoyed the occasional cigar.
He didn’t like the taste of fish, but he sure liked catching them.
He complained when something needed to be fixed, but he was always on the lookout for something broken.
He spent two days rebuilding a five-dollar toaster he found at a garage sale.
It’s sitting on my kitchen counter. I think of him every time I use it.
I’ll never throw it away because it’s the best reminder of who he was, the guy who could fix anything—a lawnmower that wouldn’t start, a scraped knee, a neighbor boy’s hurt feelings when his dad was shipped off to war, a misunderstanding that was destroying a friend’s marriage, a son’s depression after his dog died, a daughter’s self-esteem when every boy was afraid to dance with her at the junior high Spring Fling.
” I hold up my glass. Ash and Elsie do the same.
“We miss you, Dad. Thanks for always being there for us.”
I pour the rest of the Scotch on his grave while Elsie pours a glass on Mom’s grave.
We each have a second glass for ourselves.
The three of us face one another, clink our glasses, then down the liquor in a single gulp.
After the burn subsides, we set the glasses on the tombstones, then go in for a group hug. I think we all shed a tear.
In March, or as close as we can get to the anniversary of Mom’s passing, we’ll meet here again, but instead of Scotch, we’ll toast with her favorite drink—an “International” made with chocolate vodka, Irish cream, Kahlúa, crème de cacao, and vanilla ice cream topped with whipped cream and chocolate syrup.
International was what Mom called it. We had an ongoing competition to see who could get her to admit that it was the same drink as a chocolate mudslide. None of us ever won.
After the cemetery, we hang out at Elsie’s rustic log cabin.
She has the biggest fireplace I’ve ever seen—five feet tall and six feet wide.
Ash and I build a large fire. We don’t need it for the heat, Elsie has the air conditioning on full blast, but the flames are comforting.
Then we lounge around on her plush furniture under a chandelier made with deer antlers.
A giant elk hide lies at our feet as we reminisce about our childhoods. This is what life is all about.
After a while, Elsie and Ash go to the kitchen to whip up something to eat. I take the opportunity to pull out my phone. We’ve texted so much over the past couple of months, and I’m really enjoying our friendship.
Riggs: Happy Fourth!
Maddie: You too. Are you doing anything special?
Riggs: Besides visiting our parents’ graves? Not really. You?
Maddie: Just hanging out with my mom playing Rummy. What happened to your dad, if you don’t mind my asking?
Riggs: I don’t mind. He died of a broken heart.
Maddie: Because your mother died?
Riggs: Yeah, after she passed he was depressed and withdrawn. In a way, I think we all were, but it was different for him. About two months later I think he just couldn’t spend another day without her. That’s when he had a heart attack.
Maddie: That’s horrible. I’m so sorry you went through that.
Riggs: I’m not going to lie, it was rough. But you just keep breathing and find ways to live your life. You’re sad, you miss them, you think about them all the time, but you move forward. That’s what they would want us to do, to live the best life we can.
Maddie: I feel like you’re preparing me.
Riggs: I guess I kind of am. What is your mom’s latest prognosis?
Maddie: Not as good as I would like. She just did another round of tests so we should hear something in about a week.
Riggs: Sounds familiar. We made the most of the time we had with our mom like every second counted. Looking back, it did.
Maddie: It’s nice to talk to someone who understands. BTW, my mother is practically kicking me out of the house for the Vegas trip. She’s not giving me a choice.
Rhonda told Maddie’s mom about the trip two weeks ago, and that’s when Maddie told me she’ll be coming, but she had one condition. She made me promise one more time that we’ll be just friends and nothing more. I promised, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.
Riggs: Sounds like it will make her happy. Nothing is more important than that, right?
Maddie: Yes, of course you’re right. She’s actually doing a lot better now that she’s eating more so I don’t worry about her quite as much.
Riggs: That’s good. Did you get the package I sent?
Maddie: I got it this afternoon. Big box. I wish you hadn’t. I never get you anything.
Over the past couple of months, I’ve sent her a few things based on what I’ve learned from our conversations, like a few weeks ago when I had a guy come to her house and put four new tires on her car.
In passing, she complained about the price of used tires like it was a really big deal to her.
From our chats I’ve gathered that she’s really struggling so I love helping when I can, even if she hates it.
Apparently, the worst thing you can do is treat her like a charity case, but I don’t care.
If she needs things and I can provide them, she’ll just have to deal with it.
Riggs: I can’t remember, are you a billionaire too?
Maddie: I didn’t bounce a check buying groceries this week; does that count? I don’t think anyone under seventy still has a checkbook, but sadly, I do. It comes in handy when you need to buy gas or food the day before payday.
Riggs: LOL! Believe it or not, I totally get it. Ash and I ate a lot of Top Ramen in college. It was all we could afford, and there were times we couldn’t afford that. Anyway, I would have been upset if you’d gotten me something. I just hope you’re not upset when you see what’s in the box.
She doesn’t respond.
Riggs: Hello?
Still nothing. Could something have happened with her mother? Images of Dad clutching his left arm and falling to the floor in front of me and Ash come rushing into my head. I’m about to dial her number when a text appears.
Maddie: OMG!!! It’s too much. How did you even know about this?
Rhonda and I didn’t skimp when we picked out the industrial sewing machine for her birthday.
With all the bells and whistles, it cost a little over ten grand.
Ash spent about the same on a high-end DSLR camera and some lenses for Rhonda’s birthday.
Apparently, she’s always wanted to try her hand at videography.
Riggs: Rhonda helped me pick it out.
Maddie: I love it. It’s super thoughtful, but I can’t accept this.
Riggs: What did you expect when your new best friend can afford nice things?
And in case you’re serious, if you send it back, I’m going to buy your brothers brand-new Dodge Ram trucks.
And for clarification, that’s two trucks, one for each of them.
And if you don’t think I will, try me. I’m pretty sure your brothers won’t send them back.
Maddie: I would hate you until the day you died.
Riggs: Enjoy your new sewing machine :)