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Jimmy Hebert is a small man with bright blue eyes and no hair.
Black and white photographs of him playing football in high school are arranged in frames on the furniture in his room, and a larger portrait of him in his army uniform is on the wall.
He’s sitting in a leather recliner beside the window when I arrive, and I wait as he presses a button that causes the chair to slowly move forward and deposit him to standing in front of me.
“Nice to see you again, Sawyer.” He extends a hand, smiling up at me. “It’s been a while.”
Apprehension is heavy in my stomach, but I reach out to accept his greeting. “Yes, sir. I was in Nashville about six months.”
“That so?” He walks over to the mini fridge in his room. “What were you doing there? Want a coke?”
“No thanks. I, ah… I was doing some work.” On myself. This shouldn’t be so hard to say. “I was doing therapy.”
He nods, his expression turning serious. “That’s good. Back in my day, there was a real stigma about things like that. It could have helped a lot of guys.”
We’re quiet again, and I look up at the small tree on a shelf. It has tiny presents and lights that twinkle. Ancient Christmas music floats through the air, and I start to feel awkward.
He cracks open a Coke Zero and takes a long sip followed by a loud exhale. “So what can I do for you?”
“Well, sir, I wanted to come by and offer my apologies about what happened.” The back of my neck feels hot, and I rub my hand across it. “You know, in June. If there’s anything I can do or if you’re having any residual problems—”
He holds up both hands, frowning at me. “No apology necessary. It was an accident. I know that, and I’m fine.” Lowering his hands, he chuckles and gives me a wink. “I’m a lot tougher than I look, I’ll tell ya.”
“Anyway, I feel better saying it. I truly am sorry.”
“In that case, apology accepted.” Stepping forward he pats my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Sawyer, you always have been.”
“I appreciate that.” My chest is still heavy. “It doesn’t always feel like it.”
“You know, my daddy had a saying back when he was alive.” The old man furrows his brow. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Exhaling a laugh, the smallest trickle of relief starts in my heart. “My daddy used to say the same thing.”
“See there?” He pats me roughly. “Apply that same wisdom to yourself. Give yourself a second chance.”
“Thank you, sir.”
We stand facing each other a little longer. Mr. Hebert takes another sip of his coke, and the slow ancient Christmas song has turned into a fast ancient Christmas song.
“You know, my mamma had another saying.” He pokes me in the side. “It ain’t over til it’s over. I’ve got a dinner date with Rosemary Leblanc, so if we’re all done here…”
“Oh, wow, yes…” Glancing at the clock, I see it’s four-thirty. I’m not sure whether to laugh or apologize. “Sorry, I’ll take off now. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, son.” He calls after me, and when we reach the hall he scuttles in the direction of the cafeteria, while I make my way to the exit.
I’m feeling lighter than when I arrived, and I’m halfway out the door when I spot Mindy in the parking lot getting into her car.
“Hey, Mindy!” I call, jogging to where she stops.
She’s so pretty in dark jeans and a cream, fuzzy sweater. Her hair is in a low ponytail over one shoulder, and she seems startled. “Sawyer? What are you doing here?”
Stopping at her door, we’re both breathing a little fast. “Just finishing up some business. What are you doing?”
She glances at the building, confused. “I still visit pretty regularly. I brought Mrs. Irene a music box and Miss Jessica likes ornaments—”
“Have dinner with me.”
Her head pulls back, and I brace for another immediate no. Instead, she laughs. “It’s not even five o’clock yet!”
