I turned to look at Brody.
Brody was pointing at his own chest, eyes wide as saucers.
John Calvin rolled his eyes, bobbed his head once likeyes, you, obviously,keep up,and disappeared into his room.
We looked at each other.
Then we followed him in.
The room was small but well-kept. A bookshelf along one wall packed tight with paperbacks and a few framed photographs I wasn't ready to look at too closely yet. A window with a view of the garden, afternoon light coming through at a low angle. A small kitchen along the back wall with a coffee maker and a row of prescription bottles lined up neat as soldiers. The kind of room a man made his own, no matter what he'd been given to work with.
He lowered himself into the recliner with the careful economy of someone who'd made peace with what his body could and couldn't do these days. Brody and I took the loveseat, close enough that our knees touched.
"So you, uh—" I cleared my throat. "You know who I am?"
He leveled me with a look. "I got eyes, don't I?"
"Well, yeah, but I was little and?—"
"And ya look just like your mama."
His eyes misted over instantly. He sniffled once and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, quick and gruff, like he was annoyed at himself for it.
"I'm sorry." I made to stand. "I can go?—"
"Ah, sit your ass down, girl." I sat. "I ain't sad. Had twenty-two years to grieve the loss of my girls." He sniffled again and waved a hand. "I'm just damn happy I get to have one of 'em back."
"Oh."
"Yeah,oh," he mimicked, dry as dirt. Then his sharp eyes cut sideways to Brody, and something shifted in them—still sharp, but sharper now, with a particular edge that old men reserved for young ones they weren't yet sure about. "Now tell me what the hell you're doing with this one. Hank tells me he's been runnin' around town dippin' his wick in every available?—"
"You knowHank?" Brody sat forward.
John rolled his eyes. "We old folk all know each other."
"Look, Hank's got it out for me 'cause?—"
"I know, I know." John waved him off without ceremony. "You broke it off with that girl—what's her name—" He didn't wait for an answer. "Doesn't matter. Point is, from where I'm sittin'?" He looked between the two of us and gave one decisive nod. "You traded up."
The room went quiet.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Brody looked at me with an expression that saiddon't look at me, I didn't do anything.
John Calvin picked up the remote control from the arm of his recliner, supremely unbothered by both of us.
"You like Drew?"
Brody and I exchanged a look.
"Drew who?" I asked.
"Barrymore."
"Um—"
