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“You’re staying with your dad, though?” Jessie tries to keep her expression neutral, but a little grimace of distaste slips through.
“No. I’m, uh, over at the Casa Bella Motel at the moment.”
“Oh my god,thatdump? Seriously?” The shocked look Jessie gives me barely hides the bald curiosity behind it. I guess I can’t blame her.
“Yeah. At least for now. I just sort of showed up in town, and Dad doesn’t know I’m here yet.”
“Well, shit, that can’t be healthy,” she says, trailing off. Her nose wrinkles. “I mean, doesn’t that place rent rooms by the hour?”
That was the rumor about the Casa Bella back when I was in high school. Back then, I only half-believed it. But judging from all the foot traffic outside my motel room door at all hours of the night last night, I’m guessing the rumors are true after all.
“Hey, how is your mom doing, anyway?” Jessie continues, cutting into my thoughts. “Gosh, I haven’t seen or heard from her in years. She getting by?”
“Um, she’s fine, yeah,” I murmur. “Doing good.”
And that’s true, actually. It’s been years since my dad divorced my mom and tossed her away like a dirty wash rag. But if you asked her whether she wished she was still married to Dad, she’d laugh and say, “I’d rather stab my eyes out with a fork.” In that way, sheisfine.
Her lawyers were no match for the expensive ones Dad had on retainer, though. They left her with almost nothing. Then Mom had to watch him marry Stephanie — who looked like a twenty-year-old version of herself — and then observe from the sidelines as Dad went on living his life as if nothing happened.
Mom, on the other hand, was forced to cobble together a new existence with no money and very few job skills. She left town and re-settled in Indiana, where she has struggled financially ever since. More recently, a bout with breast cancer has left her officially in remission, but physically weaker, and in substantial debt.
So yeah, she’s happier not to be married to my dad anymore, but understandably, she doesn’t really love it when he’s brought up as a topic of conversation.
Which is why I haven’t told her that I’ve come back to Ironwood.
Or why.
Jessie goes off to take menus to some customers waiting in a booth toward the back. A few seconds later, a guy who looks to be in his mid- to late thirties, with a square jaw and hair that looks like steel wool, comes out of the back and takes her place behind the bar. I continue nursing my beer, which is almost gone by now. The guy approaches and asks if I want another.
I nod. “Thanks.”
“You new in town?” he asks me.
“No. I mean, sort of. I’m from here originally. I’m just visiting for a few days, though.”
“I’m Vinnie,” he grins, extending a large hand. “I manage the bar.”
“Rory,” I say, taking it.
“So, you’re from here, eh?”
“Yeah. I went to high school here. Then left town not long after.”
“Where you living now?”
“Kind of all over,” I say, shrugging. “Columbus, Indiana at the moment.”
“What brings you to town?”
I hesitate. “Visiting family.”
Tomorrow,I promise myself. Tomorrow I’ll go see Dad.
Vinnie sets my beer in front of me and continues chatting. I answer his questions in monosyllables when I can. I look around absently as he talks. The Viking hasn’t changed much since I was here last. I see a few familiar faces around, too. I imagine a lot of the people my age that I knew back when I lived here have partnered up and had kids. They’re probably not out bar-hopping on a weekday.
Vinnie is asking me more and more personal questions now. I get the feeling he’s leading up to asking me what I’m doing later. I glance at his left hand, noticing there’s no ring on it. Vinnie catches me looking and grins. He’s not bad looking, and he’s got a nice smile. For a few seconds, I let myself imagine going home with him for the night. I’ve had my share of one-night stands over the years, but not recently. For the most part I find them exhausting, what with all the superficial chit-chat and pretending that goes on during the seduction dance. Not to mention that most men stop making much of an effort to please a woman just about the same time they get you in the sack. I can get off better and in less time with my battery-powered boyfriend. Plus, I don’t have to worry about whether he’s gonna expect to stay for breakfast the next morning.
I’m steeling myself for Vinnie’s proposition, preparing a smooth refusal, when the door to the bar opens. A shaft of sunlight from the dying day shoots across the floor for an instant, before a human-shaped shadow blocks it out.
