Page 54 of Goose

I was told never to discuss religion or politics. I hated to ask, but felt I had to.

“Do you believe in heaven?” I asked.

He nodded.

“God?”

He nodded.

“Look at it this way,” I offered. “He’s up there right now, having a slice of pie while Abby eats a whole pie to herself. From what he said, she loved pecan pie.”

Still crying, he let out a laugh. The two emotions got tangled together. The laughter won. He then laughed until he lost his breath. Upon regaining his composure, he turned to face me.

He chuckled. “Porter and his fucking pie.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “Thank you.”

His hands rested against the small of my back. I laid my face against his chest. In his arms, I felt small. Protected. We melted together. A tear of recognition welled in my eye. It escaped, bringing many others with it. Then, I, too, wept.

For the tender soul of a man I desperately missed.

And a woman I never met.