Page 75 of Not a Word

“You delivered not half bad last night, for a man your age,” she said, thinking it might not be a bad idea to spend another night here, though that was up in the air. Very much up in the air.

“Getting some cereal,” he announced.

“I’ll alert the media.”

She could hear cereal being poured into a bowl. Seconds later, Holden reappeared, spoon in one hand, bowl in the other, shoveling cereal into his face, milk dribbling down from the corner of his mouth.

“Coffee will be a minute,” he said, chewing.

He sat on her side of the bed, his butt up against her legs. “Thanks for everything.”

“Hey,” she said. “No problem.”

“I’ve been going through some serious fucked-up-edness.”

“No kidding.”

“I flushed everything when I thought the cops were here for me. And now I’m thinking, it was for the best. I wanna stay clean. Not counting, you know, the odd drink here and there.”

“The odd one, sure,” she said, blowing smoke in his face.

“I mean it. Don’t want another day like yesterday. I can barely remember it. Like I had a blackout or something. It’s all fuzzy.”

“You did kind of go overboard. Not saying I blame you. You can’t bottle up your feelings. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not allowed to feel the way you do.”

Holden spooned some more cereal into his mouth. Another drop of milk ran down his chin.

“Look at you,” Alicia said. “You should be in a high chair.” There was a ding from the kitchen. “Get me a coffee.”

“I have a more urgent matter to deal with,” he said, leaving the unfinished bowl of cereal on a bedside table and heading down the hall to the bathroom.

Alicia got out of bed, wearing black panties and a black tee, went to the kitchen, tossed the end of her cigarette into the sink, rinsed out a dirty cup, and poured herself coffee from the pot. She opened the fridge, saw a container of milk, gave it a sniff, deemed it on the edge of acceptable, and poured some into her mug.

She blew on it, had a sip. She went back to the fridge and was looking for anything edible, when there was a knock at the door.

“Holden!” she called. “Someone’s here!”

From behind the closed bathroom door, he called out, “Busy!”

She went to the front door, opened it an inch to see who was there. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Gage.”

Gage looked taken aback. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know—”

“No, it’s okay. Your uncle’s in the bathroom. Ordering a pizza for all I know.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, crestfallen. “I can come back.”

As he turned to leave, Alicia opened the door wider and grabbed him by the collar. “Get in here.”

He spun around and entered, but upon noticing Alicia’s skimpy attire, averted his eyes.

“I’ll put some pants on so you don’t die of a heart attack,” she said, heading back to the bedroom and leaving him alone in the living room/kitchen area. Before Alicia could return, there was the sound of a toilet flushing, and then Holden was strolling down the hall.

“Hey, my man,” he said, as he pulled the boy into his arms and hugged him the way he had at the coffee shop the night before. It lasted a good ten seconds. “How’re you doing?”

Gage shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Holden gave him another hug, nearly as long as the first. “Everything’s good, right?”