48. Dante
CHAPTER 48
Dante
“Yo, Dante! There’s somebody at the bar asking for you.” Wyatt’s voice carried through the back hallway to the storeroom.
“Be there in a sec.” I lowered the box crusher in the storeroom and waited for it to finish its cycle. Ever since that night I’d been trapped with Faith, I always made sure to check the door before letting it close behind me.
The machine stopped, and I made my way back out to the bar. The place was hopping, even for a Friday night. Maybe Faith had stopped by. A wide smile spread across my face. Maybe she’d given some thought to going public and wanted to stop hiding behind her stupid “sex-only” rule.
I rounded the corner. Cheryl balanced on a stool at the bar. What the hell was she doing here? “Hey, what’s going on?”
She wore her nurse’s scrubs under her winter coat and gave me a shaky smile. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”
I cocked my head. “Why? What’s going on?”
She squinted and looked around. “Maybe somewhere quiet?”
“Um, yeah, sure.” Whatever was bothering her, she’d driven almost a hundred miles to get it off her chest. The least I could do was give her five minutes of my time. “I live upstairs. Come on up and we can talk there.”
As I left the bar area, I called out behind me. “Back in five, Wyatt.”
Cheryl hopped off her stool and followed me through the bar and up the stairs to my apartment.
“Can I take your coat? Get you something to drink?” Please say no. I was eager for her to get to the point of her visit.
Cheryl shook her head and raised her eyes to meet mine. “I wanted to come tell you in person.”
“Tell me what?”
She put a hand on my arm. “It’s Meemaw.”
“What about her?”
She drew in a jagged breath and looked away. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
I clenched my jaw. Through gritted teeth, I asked, “What about Meemaw?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “She didn’t suffer, Dante. It happened so fast. There was nothing we could do to save her.”
I stood shock-still. No. This had to be a mistake. I’d just talked to her earlier this afternoon. She’d been on a tirade about the spring flower show at the senior center. I collapsed into a chair and cradled my head in my hands. “No.”
Cheryl walked around behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you in person. I wouldn’t let them just call you with the news.”
“She’s gone?” I squeezed my eyes shut tight, waiting for her to confirm the news. I needed to hear her say it.
“She had an aneurysm. It burst. There was nothing anyone could do. She didn’t feel any pain.” Cheryl turned my body to face hers.
As my tears started to fall, I rubbed at my eyes. Cheryl tried to put her arms around me, but I turned away. “I can’t believe it.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Do you want to head home tonight? They’re waiting for you. You can still see her and say goodbye.”
I yanked off my glasses and wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. My voice husky from the raw emotion, I replied, “Yeah, just let me throw some stuff in a bag.”
It couldn’t be real. Still, I got up from the table and felt around for the duffel bag under the bed. Without a conscious thought about what I’d need, I swept a random assortment of clothes from the shelves and tossed it all into the bag, then made my way to the bathroom. I grabbed my toothbrush and a couple of other toiletries, then zipped up the bag and threw it over my shoulder.
Cheryl stood by the front door. “Ready? I can drive you back if you want. I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
“Yeah, sure. Just let me stop in at the bar and let them know where I’m going.”
I held the door open for her, and we stepped out onto the stoop. With my pulse racing, I turned and locked the door. Cheryl hooked her arm through mine as we made our way down the steps. At the bottom, she drew me into a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Dante. I’ll go get the car.” She took my duffel and slung the strap over her shoulder as I went into the bar.
Inside, I found Wyatt wiping down the counter. He looked up as I approached. “Everything okay?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve got to head out. Meemaw passed away.”
Wyatt’s face fell. “Oh, man. I’m really sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah, just hold down the fort. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Take all the time you need, Dante. We’ll manage here.”
I nodded and headed back outside, the weight of Meemaw’s passing pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Cheryl sat behind the wheel with the motor running. I climbed in, and she reached over to squeeze my hand as we pulled away from the bar.
Faith
I pulled into the parking lot of Tapped and turned off the engine. I’d tried coming up with a plan on the short drive over and still had no idea what I was going to say. Maybe something along the lines of “Guess what? All that sex we had? It was so great I wrote it all down and someone’s been reading about it. You don’t mind, do you?”
What would Dante do? Would he get angry? Break a beer mug or two? That would be better than the simmering silent treatment. Either way, it would be bad, that much I was sure of. I rested my head on the steering wheel and took in a few deep breaths. Best to just get it over with.
I unbuckled the seatbelt and was about to get out of my car when Dante and some woman came out of his apartment and walked down the steps. I slouched down low in the driver's seat and watched as the woman put her arms around him and wrapped him into a hug. Dante hugged back, then they separated, and he went into the bar. Probably just a good friend. No need to jump to conclusions.
I kept an eye on the woman who walked over to a car, threw a bag in the backseat, then pulled up on the side of the building and stopped. A few seconds later, Dante strode out of the bar and I watched in disbelief as he climbed into the passenger seat and the car turned out onto the road.
Looked like Dante had gotten tired of waiting for me to shift into relationship gear and found someone new. Sure as hell didn’t take him very long. Well, that would make things easier in the long run. He was probably doing me a favor.
Then why did my heart feel like it was caught in a vise? And why was I finding it hard to breathe? I took in a few jagged breaths and turned the key in the ignition. What a shit day.
Dante
I walked through the senior center in a daze. Gnarled hands reached out to clap my back or grab my arm as I passed. Everyone wanted to offer their condolences and tell me what a wonderful person my grandmother had been. Her voice ran through my head. They sure went all out, didn’t they, my boy? Real silverware for the luncheon and the minister even wore those purple vestments I like so much.
I almost smiled. Pushing through the doors into the kitchen, I noted Meemaw’s nemesis, Mrs. Blake, standing in front of the oven, hot mitts in hand. I bet that’s her signature shepherd’s pie. Do you know she uses instant potatoes on top? Instant potatoes! At my luncheon? I ran my hands through my hair. If this kept up, I’d have to go get myself checked out at the psych ward.
Mrs. Blake turned and smiled. “Dante. Your grandmother sure will be missed around here.”
“That’s what I hear, Mrs. Blake. Thanks for coordinating the luncheon.”
“It was a lovely service.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Of course, Dolores probably would have had something to say about the music. That organ player can’t keep up. They don’t even let her play at mass anymore. I don’t know how she’s allowed to play...”
Mrs. Blake continued to complain about the organist while I waited for a break in the conversation so I could escape. “I see someone I need to talk to over there. Thanks again, Mrs. Blake.”
“Mmm hmm.” She turned to grab an industrial-size box of instant mashed potatoes and I almost laughed out loud. Maybe Meemaw really was talking to me still.
I made my way back to the dining room where Cheryl stood, orchestrating the buffet. A rainbow of Jell-O salads clustered at one end of the table, and the men hovered around the lemon bars and cookies, waiting for the first person to be brave enough to take one.
“How are you holding up?” Cheryl asked, placing her hand on my arm.
“I’m okay. Thanks for helping out today.”
“It’s my pleasure. Your grandmother was well-loved, Dante. They’re really going to miss her around here.”
They’ll miss me all right, like a hole in the head. I blinked hard. “Yeah, they’ll miss her. I think I’m going to head back to her place. I’ve got to get back to the office tomorrow and want to get a head start on packing stuff up.”
“Do you want any help?” Cheryl’s hand rubbed my arm.
“No, that’s okay. I think it’s something I need to do by myself.” I appreciated Cheryl’s help over the past couple of days, but I still wasn’t interested in anything beyond friendship with her.
There was only one person I wanted to see right now—Faith. But I hadn’t wanted to call her. I didn’t know if she’d be willing to drop everything and come running if she knew about Meemaw. I kind of thought she would, but I didn’t want to know for sure. What if this was the kind of thing that crossed the line for her into a relationship? I was afraid to ask her to come because I was afraid she’d say no.
“I can stop by later if you want company.” Cheryl seemed hesitant to let me go.
“I’ll be okay.” I clasped her hand in mine, removing it from my arm. “I really appreciate all you’ve done. I’ll see you around.” She let her hand drop to her side as the corners of her mouth tugged down into a frown.
I wheeled around and made my way through Meemaw’s friends. As I exited through the doors of the senior center out into the parking lot, I took in a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. Alone. Finally.
I’d been holding it together over the past several days as people stopped by to share a memory, tell a story about how Meemaw had helped them over the years, or drop off a casserole. I’d unloaded twelve pans of food just now at the senior center and had three more dishes back at Meemaw’s place.
Her friends meant well. I’d be willing to bet half of them had a freezer stocked full of casseroles, just waiting for the next person to drop dead.
Meemaw always used to say that when you got to be her age, every day was a gift. She’d lost so many friends over the years. She said she had to keep making new ones as fast as the old ones were dying.
I rubbed my hand across my eyes as I climbed up into the old Ford. As I turned the key in the ignition, it lumbered to life. I pulled out onto the highway and headed toward home, where a house full of memories and the treasures of an eighty-two-year-old woman waited for me to pack them away.