At the tavern
I stopped by the bar on the way home from my pops. Heather’s car was parked outside, I felt compelled to see her.
I had a check from the ‘lectric company— a sizable refund from overpaying. It was in her name and I’m not good at forgery. I figured, it’d be a good ice-breaker and I’m sure she could use the funds.
She greeted me with open arms— a hug that makes a few months of silence (a little) less painful. We chatted as best we could with the few locals hanging around for happy hour.
I say too much, and answer questions directly without the ability to soft-shoe details. She’s agreeable and stoic.
She’s content behind the bar. It’s only temporary she says, but for now, it’s almost on par with the salary she brought home previously. I’m happy for her, really.
I’ll be even happier when the office is dissolved and I find out what’s next for everyone, myself included.
—
Larry stops in and invites me to dinner. He’s a great cook and I hedge only briefly. Gretch was out in the car with her arm in a sling. She was in a slight fender bender, but she’s okay.
I got to their house in time to mince garlic for the salad and grilled potatoes. Chicken was the main course, with homemade barbeque sauce that put sweet little beads of sweat on my brow.