I lose the smarm and switch gears, offering casually, “Hey, I’m sorry, Jeffy. You wanna come in an’ have a drink? Come on. Come on in.”
I open the door fully, inviting him in with a sweep of my damaged arm, coated in white powder and the few remnants of gauze still sticking to my skin. Jeffrey doesn’t look like he’s in a sociable mood and doesn’t make it past the threshold.
“Mr. Wiley, thank you, but no.” He gives the mess in the living room another once over and says, “I trust you’ll keep the noise level down for the rest of the night, yes?”
I’m calm as a cucumber. My tantrum has exhausted me. There will be no more hotel-room-trashing from me.
“Yes, Jeffy. I’ll keep it down. You can count on me,” I tell him, giving some sloppy, crazy-eyed, military salute. “G’night. I’ll be quiet. Okay. G’night.”
And then I close the door, grab a few more bottles, and head back into the bedroom.
Alone.
PART THREE
2005
Chapter 1
WINTER PASSING
Do you ever have psychic premonitions? I’m not talking about foreseeing world events in your crystal ball or being able to read someone’s mind. But do you ever get that little tingle along your skin, that little whisper in a forgotten corner of your brain that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up?
It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I know it. So, I wasn’t quite as surprised as I should have been when the phone rang one otherwise uneventful afternoon. I was pretty sure I already knew who was calling.
I grabbed it off its base on the first ring, and I don’t even think I said hello before being met with, “My father died.”
I gripped the phone in my hand, not quite believing what I was hearing. Not just the startling news being disseminated, but the voice of the person delivering it.
It’s strange how there are people in your life that never seem to leave it. Those friends that you may not talk to regularly, but whom you still very much consider a part of your life. You may go months, even years without seeing one another or speaking. But once you wind up together again, it’s as if not a single day has gone by.
I have lots of friends like that. I don’t know what the formula is, but I’m like Fry’s dog. Once I bond with someone, even someone new, it’s for life. Most of the people in my inner circle are the ones who have steadily been a part of it, however. My father has always been there for me, and my best friend Lisa is my rock. Even my little brother Bruce and I managed to form a decent friendship during our twenties.
But what is it about high school? Is it just the fact that you spend every single day with those people? Every single day over the course of four very formative years that bonds you forever? At the age of thirty-one, I had friends through work and around the neighborhood. I had lots of buddies from college. But for some reason, it wasn’t the same. Sure, I kept in touch. But I always found myself coming back to my center, my core. The tightest bond I ever maintained was with the group from St. Norman’s graduating class of ’91.
Lisa was my go-to, my partner-in-crime, my touchstone. Her husband Pickford was like the big brother I never had. Cooper Benedict was a childhood friend, and even though he lived down in Maryland, we still talked occasionally and made a point to get together at least once a year. Even Greg Rymer still lived right in town, and I managed to toss him some work every now and again.
Fourteen years after high school, and I was still surrounded by the people from my youth. Hell, it was like I was still living my youth. Years ago, I’d moved back to the town I’d grown up in. Not only that, but I was living in my childhood home as well. I was sitting in my old bedroom, staring at the same white-painted furniture that lined the walls, the same pink princess phone in my hand.
I twirled the cord around my finger as my eyes landed on the back of my bedroom door. I noticed the tiny drawing near the bottom, saw the small heart sketched in red Sharpie years before, registered the initials lovingly drawn inside. I’d scribbled it there a lifetime ago and had completely forgotten about it in all the years since… until the phone rang.
Because at that moment, I found my eyes zeroing in on the silly little spot as I spoke to my high school sweetheart.
“Oh, Trip. I’m so sorry.”
Chapter 2
AN UNFINISHED LIFE
Fighting down my nausea, I pulled my car into the driveway of the Malachi Bros. Funeral Home and parked near the back of the lot. I figured there was every chance that I’d be there for the entire day. I took a deep breath, checked the clock on my dashboard, and found that it was 1:05. The wake started at one, but I wanted to allow a little time for Trip and his family to have a few private moments before the mourners arrived. It would be the only peace they’d have for a while, once the steady stream of friends and family started running roughshod through their lives. My plan was to sit and wait it out for a few minutes in my car.