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“I’ll nap when I’m dead,” he retorts. “Until then, I’ve got shit to do. Actually, I’ll probably let you handle today,” he concedes, as though I’d thought he was going to hop up and go to the bar with me for the day. I had no illusions as such. “I’ve got some things to do around the house, but tomorrow, I’ll be there, and I’ll expect you to be off gallivanting around, doing whatever it is you young’uns do these days. Like ‘talking’ and taking pictures for your ‘blogs’.” He does air quotes around both words, which makes me laugh because he’s using them wrong, but in his mind, he’s perfectly correct.
“You sure? We’re closed Monday, so that’s two whole days off in a row. Wouldn’t want me to get spoiled, now would you?” What I really mean is, can he handle the bar alone tomorrow?
He grins back, nodding. “Girl, if you’d let me, I’d spoil the ever-loving shit outta ya. I missed you, Willow.”
What started as sweet turned deeply sentimental, and I feel the hot burn of tears in the corners of my eyes again but refuse to let them fall. Unc doesn’t want me to cry over him, but it’s hard to swallow down the lost time and the fear of losing even more.
“I missed you too, Unc. Anything you need, I’m your girl, okay? I don’t want to let years go by again and us feel like we lost something important,” I choke out.
He pats my hand again, content in that old man way. “We won’t even let days go by this time. Sometimes, that’s as long as you get, and you gotta take advantage of every one.”
I dip my chin, half-nodding and half-hiding the tears I blink away.
“All right then, get on to the bar. You’ve got work to do today, girl. And I’d best not hear of Patrick having to break up any fights. Your man’s or anyone else’s.”
I laugh lightly, hoping he’s kidding. Bobby might’ve punched that tourist the first night, but he deserved it. Bobby’s been nothing but a gentleman ever since.
I intentionally leave the whole box of doughnuts with hopes that Unc will snack on them throughout the day and let him escort me to the door. He’s limping a bit more today, something that had been getting better since he’s been spending most shifts sitting at the beer taps. I give him a hug, feeling the bones of his lean frame beneath his loose T-shirt.
“I love you, Unc.”
“Aw, I love you too, Willow. Now I’d best not see you until Tuesday lunch, y’hear?”
I do the quick mental check on that. I’m working today and he’s staying home to rest, he’s doing tomorrow’s shift, then we’re closed on Monday, so yeah, he’s right. I think I’ll make sure Doc or Richard swings by tomorrow to sit at the bar with him. He won’t suspect a thing if his friends come to visit and drink the day away before their poker game.
Dismissed, I get in my car and head to work knowing that I’m going to do extra prep work to make sure that Unc can do as little as possible tomorrow.
I’m waist-deep in the weeds, pulling soft drinks and beers mostly because folks don’t default to the hard stuff mid-day around here very often, and helping Olivia run food to tables. It’s just the three of us, Olivia and me up front and Ilene in the back. Daniel comes in at five for the dinner rush.
“What do you do when you need a day off?” I ask Olivia as I fill her tray with another round of drinks. “You’re literally the only waitress who works here.”
“Day off?” she sasses with a look of mock confusion. “What’s that?” I wish she were kidding, but I get the feeling she’s not. “Really, I work as much as I can and am happy to do it. Hannah’s working too. Owning her own shop is a twenty-four, seven gig, so we’ll see each other tonight after we get off work. On the rare occasion I really do need a day, Hank has customers come to the counter to order and calls them back up when their food’s ready. Folks understand.”
I can’t help but smile. Here, in Great Falls, they do understand and are probably happy to help a fellow resident have a day off. But in the city? No way, no how. There’d be some Karen threatening a one-star Yelp review because the service was ‘offensive’. But the sense of community here is something I hadn’t expected, and it feels . . . right. I’ve been accused of being a doormat, letting people walk all over me when all I really wanted to do was lend a hand, but here, everyone’s like that.
“Well, just so you’re ready for it, Hank’s given me tomorrow off. I’m going to do as much prep work as I can so that all he has to do is sit on his butt and pour beer, but can you keep an eye on him? Make sure he eats and doesn’t overdo it?” I don’t add that he looked awful this morning and was well on his way to a nap just from our visit, so I’m seriously doubting his ability to work a full shift.
