“So how was your day, Pops?”
It took him a moment to turn to me, confusion clear on his face. “What?”
“Your day. How was it?” I wiped the barbecue sauce off my mouth.
“It was a day, same as all the rest.” He turned back to the TV.
“What did you do?” I didn’t know why I was pushing it. Maybe to prove to myself that I didn’t need Katie to enjoy a conversation.
He stared at me. “Same thing I do every day. What’s going on with you? Making jokes about food, wanting to chat during a game. Is something wrong?”
I shrugged. “Nah. Just checking in.” I took a loaded bite of nachos off the plate.
“I’m fine. Now pipe down. I want to listen to the game.”
“Good talk.” We watched the rest of the football game in silence.
By the end of the game, Pops was starting to nod off. “Time for bed.”
He grumbled, shifting on the couch, pulling his feet up. “Change the station to the Packers game. I’ll watch the end of that.”
I draped a blanket over him, changed the station, and said goodnight. I think he spent most nights out here, letting the lights and chatter of the TV drive away memories, allowing him to sleep.
Cleaning up our garbage, I put the living room back in order. I’d brought an extra burger we hadn’t touched. I took it with me, intending to eat it for lunch tomorrow. When I saw lights through the trees at Nellie’s place, I got in my car and detoured. All the lights in the house appeared to be on. What the hell was she doing?
Pulling up next to her beat-to-shit car, I scanned the house and yard, trying to discover what was with all the lights. Chaucer’s head popped up in the car window. Not again. Damn it; she needed a bed and to not be afraid of her own house.
I walked around the car and looked in the window. She lay cocooned in blankets, curled up on the seat. I didn’t want to scare her again, but I did want to make sure she ate more than a cupcake. Chaucer’s wagging tail brushed back and forth over her face. Sleepily, she batted it away, missed, and was hit in the face again. I choked back a laugh as she drowsily did battle with a wagging tail.
I left them to it, instead jogging up the stairs and into her brightly lit house. Putting the leftovers into her refrigerator, I tried to ignore the twist in my gut at seeing it empty. Not my problem. Good deed done for the day, I went home.
The following morning, I drove by the jewelry store, the ring box in my pocket, taunting me like the ball-less wonder I was. Fuck it. I parked and got out. My ’nads shriveled up as the bell chimed above my head.
“Morning, Chief!” Jen came around the counter, her pregnant belly leading the way. “What can we do for you this morning?”
“Hey, Jen.” I looked around for her mother. “Is Carol in?”
Jen rubbed her distended stomach. “Oh, sure. Hey, Ma!” Jen snickered. “She hates it when I do that.”
Carol bustled out of a door in the back of the store. “Jennifer, what have I—oh, Chief, how lovely to see you.” She came around the counter. Unlike Jen, who took after her father, Carol was a tiny woman, which for some reason made the whole situation worse. I felt like I needed to crouch in order to have a quiet talk.
“What can we do for you today?” Her eyes were bright with the anticipation of a sale.
There was no point in being coy. “I’d like to return this ring.” I pulled out the damn box that had taken up permanent residence in my pocket for the last year.
“Oh.” She patted my arm. “My dear boy, I still can’t believe she did that to you.” Glancing at her daughter, she said, “We couldn’t get over it, could we, Jen?” Pity dripped from her words and shone in her eyes. She patted my arm again. “You’re a catch, dear. You really are!”
And that was why the ring had sat in my pocket for a year. “Thanks, ma’am.”
She took the box from my hands and opened it. “So beautiful. Custom setting.” She walked back around the counter, talking to herself. “I remember, one carat canary diamond, VVS1, quarter-carat trillions, platinum setting.” She held up the loupe hanging around her neck to examine the ring. “Perfect.”
The bell over the door rang and we all turned to watch Nancy sail in. “Oh. Hello, Chief.” She paused, turning away to study a display near the door, thank God.
Carol tapped my hand and tilted her head toward the very back of the store.
“Let me write you a check,” she whispered, going back through the door she’d emerged from a few minutes earlier.
I leaned on the counter, my back to the store, wishing I were anywhere but here. A hand ran along my back. I flinched, stepping away. Nancy, of course. “Don’t.”
