Epilogue
Landon
One Year Later
Hunter walks into Mom's and Bing follows.
There is a pale flush of embarrassment on his cheeks, and a big smile on his face, when he sees who came to celebrate the milestone.
Well, some are here for him. The rest of the patrons are enjoying their own celebrations.
Hot August nights in Smyrna bring out the thirst for Patron and partying.
The guys make their way through the crowd, while Country music plays.
It makes for dancers and singers. If you can call it that.
Most are shitty at both. People get lost in the song’s stories, like reading set to rhythm.
They want to sing out their own struggles and loss or relive their love stories.
Arms raise and legs move in their expressions.
“Happy twenty-first, big guy!”
Dad brings up a bottle of Johnny Walker from under the bar and holds it high. A cigar is attached with a ribbon.
“You’re a man now!”
“Thanks, Ronnie!”
A drink is poured as he sits his ass down. Bing slides onto the next stool and swivels like a kid does. I guess there is still a few drops of the boy.
“The first one’s on the house, kid.”
He pours.
“What about me?” Bing says.
“You pay. I gave you yours last month. One free drink for Hunter. That’s it.”
“Their drinks are on me tonight,” Layton says, grabbing a handful of nuts. “I have to take care of my best framer. And you too, Bing.”
They high five their response. I see callouses on Hunter’s hand. My thumb touches mine.
I thought maybe the tough work would discourage him. It isn’t for everybody. But it didn’t. The kid likes it as much as I do. Bing tried making a few bucks doing grunt work on the construction sites this summer but went off it in a matter of weeks.
Kim slips off the stool next to mine and takes her son in a momma hug. Even though we just saw him earlier in the day, she greets him like an Olympic athlete off his greatest run.
“You’re twenty-one! My baby is twenty-one!”
There is jumping involved on her part, as he sits stoically on the stool.
The eye rolls have gone by the wayside. He has learned not to fight the love, and everybody is happier.
“I made it, Mom,” he says, turning and laughing.
“I never doubted you.”
She says it with a straight face. I have learned you have to lie sometimes with kids.
Well, not exactly lie, but you say what you hope comes true.
You’re going to make it, It’s going to work out, She doesn’t know what she’s missing, kind of things.
It’s a lesson in the subtle art of building a functional adult. I am only on year one. A freshman.
Kim has been all a mother should be. My own mother would have come to the same conclusion. I have not heard her talking to me lately. No prompts to be less grumpy. But she is always with me, whether or not she speaks. Dad would say the same. There is no real leaving.
Kim has done it alone. Mostly. Her husband had the first shift, and I have had the last. Will have the last. She is happy tonight.
Happy in a specific way that is beautiful to see.
Her eyes find me, and they send me my due with a nod.
I was part of the growth too. A small, but important piece of Hunter’s puzzle.
I remember another night. Watching a drunk girl dancing.
Being connected before speaking to her. There are only good memories left.
An image of the gold bracelet comes to mind.
And the bridesmaid crown she wore. The exposed shoulder.
In the sober light of the next morning, I was just as taken.
Unforgettable. From there to here has only been a minute.
“How do you like your new digs?” Dad asks.
“I love it. There’s a pool and a gym,” Hunter says with pride.
“What about girls? Have you met any chicks there yet?”
Bing jumps in before his friend can answer.
“You kidding? He already had three of them over to his place!”
A slight change in Kim’s posture says it all. Defenses up. It’s like muscle memory. Only I can read her body language so well. When our eyes meet she chuckles. Busted.
“I didn’t say a word,” she whispers.
“Didn’t have to.”
She presses her lips together, hiding a smile.
“When we get home, I want the cowgirl to ride.”
Her shoulders relax and she takes my hand.
“Come on. Let’s dance, baby. It’s a slow one.”