Tell Me a Story
Liko was hammered. It hit him as he was walking Meg to her car. When he asked for her number, she hesitated.
“I had a good time tonight,” she said slowly. “I hope you won’t be offended when I say I’d like to just keep it tonight.” She held up her left hand. “I’ve only recently taken it off.”
“Gotcha.”
“I’m not ready to date. But it was nice to put on a new dress, go to a party, and flirt with a handsome man. Know that I still got it. Then say, That was enough, thank you very much, get in my car and go home. Because I can.”
“I totally understand,” Liko said. “Wait, go back to the handsome part?”
She laughed and patted his cheek. “It was a good night for topping up the ol’ ego tank. For real, though, this shirt? Great color on you. Wear it to all parties. I insist.”
Liko smoothed down the front and smiled, pleased beyond words and not wanting to slur any words he could think up.
Meg leaned and kissed his cheek quick. “Thank you for a great time.”
“You good to drive?”
“I’m perfect.”
He opened her door. “You are. Don’t change a thing.” He waited until she was settled and buckled, then shut her door. Feeling chivalric, he guided her as she backed the car up, and waved as she drove away.
“That was enough,” he said, not slurring too badly. “Thank you very much.”
He took another walk under the wisteria pergola, both hands brushing the profusion of purple blooms. When he reached the porch, Dane was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs, feet up on the railing.
Salma sat beside, her head and one paw in Dane’s lap.
His hand ran in long, loving strokes along her neck.
“Well well,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you back.”
Liko put a foot on the step, a hand on the railing, and swayed a bit, grinning through numb lips. “That was the most piss-elegant rejection of my life.”
Dane laughed. “Meggy’s a sweetheart.”
“She is. And this is a damn good party.”
“Party’s over, big guy.”
“This was a damn good party.”
“I know some good pipple.”
“I love your pipple. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Go drink some water.”
Liko obeyed, pounding a big glass in the kitchen and carrying a second back out to the porch.
He eased into another Adirondack chair and the two men sat quietly, listening to the din of spring peepers and the faint hum of the last revelers at the Pub.
Liko could see some of the outdoor fire pits were lit, and the smoke occasionally wafted up to the farm.
He set his glass down on the side table and noticed a postcard there. Innocently, he went to pick it up, but Dane’s fingertips dropped on the card and swept it away.
“Sorry,” Liko said, just as Dane said, “Sorry.”
They blinked at each other a bewildered second.
Dane gave a wobbly smile. “It’s just…”
“Love note?”
He laughed now. “No. Just personal.” He tucked the postcard into his jacket pocket. “Story for another day.”
“Tell me a story tonight.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m a quiet drunk. Which makes me a great listener.”
Dane was quiet a long time. “I don’t know if I want to tell the story in order, or just tell it as I walk you through the chamber mystery.”
“You gotta start somewhere.”
“We’ll start in the morning.”
“Start now.”
Dane exhaled. “You’re drunk, you’re also quite bossy, and I’m a terrible storyteller.”
“You can break every story down into one basic formula. Once upon a time. And then. And then. Until finally. And then.”
“That easy, huh?”
“I’ll go first. Once upon a time, a man had a son. And then the son died. And then the man wanted to die. Until finally the man decided to keep living. And then he looked for a reason why. Now you go.”
“Once upon a time,” Dane said slowly. He rolled his lips in tight and gazed up at the porch ceiling, blinking rapidly.
“Once upon a time, there was a Great Dane. And then he met Ethan and Nomi. And then they fell in love. And then…” Dane shook his head, laughing. “This is torture. Go get your laptop.”
“Yeah, baby, let’s do this,” Liko got up.
“Drink some more water.”
“Now who’s being bossy?”
“You love it,” Dane called after him.
They set up in the den, where Liko could connect his laptop to the big TV screen. He opened his saved game, which was paused outside Paderborn Cathedral, in front of the Drei-Hasen-Fenster—the window of the Three Hares. “Can we start here or do we need to play from the start?”
“Go from here.”
Liko first picked up the photograph lying on the grass under the window, which showed a man’s hand sliding a loose stone from a wall. The loose brick in the buttress wouldn’t come free unless the photo was in the player’s cache.
“Pause,” Dane said.
“Bossy.”
“This is a story.” He reached toward the coffee table where he’d set some photographs. He handed one to Liko. It was taken in the woods and showed a broken-down stone chimney and the remains of a house foundation, all choked with weeds and vines.
The hair on the back of Liko’s neck began to lift as Dane passed another picture, taken closer to the chimney. Then another shot, even closer, with a hand pulling at a loose brick. It was identical to the photo in the game.
“Shut up,” Liko said under his breath. He clicked his cached picture and compared it to the one Dane held out. Exactly the same.
“This is Ethan’s hand,” Dane said. “I took the pictures.”
He passed one last photo. Now the brick was all the way free of the chimney and Ethan was drawing out a small metal box.
“The buttress in the game isn’t architecturally accurate,” Dane said, pointing to the TV where Three Hares was paused. “Ethan modeled it to look like the old chimney in these pictures. You can see how the colors and stone shapes are the same. The real buttress at Paderborn doesn’t look like this.”
“My gast is flabbered,” Liko said, looking from the screen to the photograph and back.
“Anyway, these are the woods where Nomi played when she was a little girl. She and a friend found the loose brick. They put treasures in a card file box and hid it inside.”
Dane went quiet a minute, thinking. Then gave a sideways smile. “Told you I was a terrible storyteller.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Nomi was in and out of foster care until she was seventeen. When she played in these woods, she was living with a family named Silver. She was called Naomi then. Naomi Silver. She said they were the happiest years of her childhood.”
He sighed. “I’ll never be able to tell her stories perfectly.
Not the way she would. I’ll leave something out.
I’ll embellish or exaggerate. I’ll make something up to fill in a gap.
Or I just don’t know some crucial detail, some feeling or insight she kept in her heart. I’ll inevitably get it wrong.”
“You loved her,” Liko said. “You were with her twenty-two years. You saw her through cancer. You had a child together. You knew her best. Who else but you to tell her stories? You’re the only one who can even try.”
“True,” Dane said.
“You’re all she’s got.”
Dane looked at him. “Thanks for present tense.”
“You can pry present tense from my cold, dead hands.”
“All right then.” Dane settled back and put his feet on the coffee table. “Once upon a time…”