4. The Good Life
4
The Good Life
Mac
“Hey, it’s Big Mac!” Jack says as soon as I walk in the door to his brightly-painted kitchen. He’s standing in front of the counter slathering his special blend of garlic, parsley, salt and butter on a hero bun that’s been sliced down the center. His 1950s satellite station is playing in the background, and he’s wearing his usual loose cotton button down shirt with short sleeves over some cargo shorts. His black crew socks are pulled up halfway to his knees and he’s got his feet tucked into the same pair of leather sandals that he’s had since the ‘70s.
“Hey, Jack,” I say, setting the cooler on the counter. “How are you?”
“Excellent and improving.” That’s always his answer. Unless something’s really wrong, in which case he says, “Not worth a donkey fart today.”
“Glad to hear it. I hope you’re hungry,” I say, flipping the top on the cooler to reveal the two lobsters .
He peeks in and smiles. “I knew I had a grandson for a reason. I get to eat like a king in my old age.”
“Ah, you’re not that old.”
“Tell that to my knees,” he answers, opening the cupboard next to the stove and getting out the big pot. He places it in the sink and starts to fill it. “How’s Tweety runnin’?”
Tweety is my seaplane, on account of the bright yellow paint job. “Good. The new fuel pump is doing its thing,” I say, rummaging around in the fridge for the salad fixings and a couple of bottles of beer.
“Good stuff. I imagine you’re out some cash you were expecting to bring in over the holidays.”
I pause for a second, wondering if he might know about my arrangement with Violet. “Nothing fatal.”
“Listen, kid, if you ever need some cash, you can come to me.”
I look over at him and give him a nod. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I won’t give it to you, but I just want you to know you can always tell me so I can laugh at you.” He chuckles at his own terrible joke while I shake my head and hand him a beer.
“Thanks, Jack.”
“What are grandfathers for?”
“I’m honestly not sure,” I tell him with a wry smile.
We get to work making dinner and in under half an hour, we’re sitting in front of the television eating. Jack points at the slightly fuzzy screen, where the announcer is talking excitedly about the Benavente football team having made the Caribbean Cup for the first time since the turn of the millennium. “They play Friday afternoon. Do you want to come over and watch it? ”
“Since when do you care about soccer?”
“Since our national team made it.”
“Fair enough. I might have a flight that day, but if not, I’ll swing by.”
“I thought maybe you were going to say you had a big date,” he says, dipping a chunk of lobster meat into the butter dish on his TV tray.
“Nope. No, thank you.”
He gives me an upward head nod. “Still keeping it simple?”
“Yup. Bypassing all the hassles and getting on with the good stuff.”
Jack swallows, then says, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. It’s all well and good to live like a retiree when you’re seventy, but it’s a whole different thing to spend your entire life this way.”
“Yeah, it’s smarter. I can skip all the stress that comes with the whole wife and family thing.”
He tilts his head to the side. “The thing is, if I hadn’t had the wife and family, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now. To be honest, these evenings are the best part of my week. I’d hate for you to miss out on that.”
“I’m not missing out on anything,” I say, standing and picking up my plate. I walk into the kitchen and put it down and plug the sink so I can fill it with soap and hot water. “Believe me. I know myself, Jack. And I’m not cut out for any of that. I tried it. It didn’t work out. One and done.”
Jack follows me in and says, “Leave it. It’ll give me something to do tomorrow morning.”
There’s a knock at the door and Jack’s friend Cal strolls in. Cal’s son, Todd, married my ex-wife, Lisa. (It’s a small island and everybody knows everybody.) You’d think it would make things awkward between Cal and me, but it hasn’t. Mostly because I’m glad to be rid of her. Not that Lisa is a bad person, because she’s not. We were just all wrong for each other.
He sets a six-pack of Bud Light on the coffee table and says, “Hey, Big Mac. How’s it going?”
“Never better,” I tell him.
“I’m a little early for poker night. Maude’s sister is in town for a couple of weeks. I had to get out of there.”
I give Jack a meaningful look. “See that? The man had to leave his own house because his sister-in-law is there. If he wasn’t married, he could just stay home.”
Cal narrows his eyes, looking back and forth between us. “What’s going on?”
I roll my eyes. “Jack is trying to talk me into getting married again.”
“I never said anything about marriage,” my grandpa tells him. “I was just telling Mac he might miss out on some pretty great stuff if he skips out on having a family.”
Cal shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. Raising kids wasn’t exactly a good time, but having grandkids? Now, that has made it worth it.”
“Too bad you can’t skip the kids and go straight to being a grandparent,” I mutter, popping the last bite of garlic toast into my mouth.
“Speaking of grandkids, Lisa had the baby on Monday.” He pulls his phone out of his pants pocket. His grin is from ear-to-ear as he hands the phone to me. “A little boy.”
I stare at a photo of the baby’s wrinkled up little face and impossibly tiny fingers. There’s something oddly familiar about him, and I’m sure it’s because I’ve seen so many pictures of Lisa at her parents’ place. For some odd reason, this feels a bit like taking a shot to the solar plexus. Jarring and uncomfortable.
“Calvin Junior.” His voice breaks a little when he says the name, and I imagine he’s going to be choked up about that for a long time.
Jack walks over to take a look. “Would you look at that? Cute little thing. Good thing he takes after his mother.”
Cal swats my grandpa on his arm, then swipes through a few photos to show us the happy family all together, and one of the baby laying on Lisa’s chest while they sleep. “He looks exactly like Todd when he was born.”
“Adorable,” I manage. “Everything went well? They’re both fine, I take it?”
Cal nods firmly. “Oh yeah, Lisa is a real trooper. She was up and around in no time at all. She was sitting up writing thank you cards right there in the hospital bed.”
Sounds about right. That’s totally something she would do. Thoughtful. Kind. Pointless. “That’s great. I’m glad they’re doing well,” I say, returning to the sink to wash the dishes.
“I said I’ll do it tomorrow,” Jack tells me.
“Nah, you’ll be too busy crying in your corn flakes over all the money I’m going to take from you tonight.”
Jack laughs, then points to me with his thumb. “You believe this kid? I taught him everything he knows about poker and yet, he still thinks he can beat me.”
“Hey, I cleaned up last week,” I say, pretending to be offended.
“That doesn’t count. You got lucky,” Jack says. “Come on, Cal, let’s get the table set up before the rest of the boys get here.”
I get busy washing the dishes, the whole time trying to brush off this uncomfortable feeling inside. There’s really no reason for it. It’s not like I didn’t know Lisa had moved on, and I certainly don’t want her back. But still…
By the time I’m hanging up the dish towel on the oven handle, I decide that it’s probably a normal reaction to seeing your ex’s new baby. A weird sense of ‘what if’ that would naturally come over a person. There’s no need to dig too deep into it. She left. I’m glad. End of story.
So, why do I feel so … off?