Tom Piccirilli - The Last Kind Words

The waiter appeared and presented Grey with the dessert menu. He ordered seven or eight items, more than we could eat, and said that we would share. We moved over to white wine. The chatter became even more casual. It wafted past me and I responded adequately and had no idea what I was saying. Eve spoke of her daughter, who was training to be a vet technician. She took out her phone and showed us photos that her daughter had sent her of a litter of newborn Rottweilers. Grey and I chuckled and talked about how my father had boosted JFK from a puppy mill he’d accidentally broken into. It was, to my knowledge, the one and only time my old man had ever called the cops.

The chocolate layer cakes and cheesecakes and pie à la mode arrived. We ate from one another’s dishes. Eve fed me forkfuls of icing. She leaned in a little farther. She continued her sweet yet powerful assault on my will.

I waited for Grey to use the men’s room. When he excused himself I gave it a ten count and then pushed away from the table.

“Excuse me, ladies, I need to use the house phone.”

“You can borrow my cell,” Vicky said.

I stood. “Okay, I lied. I want to talk to my uncle about you two.”

“Stay here and ask us instead,” Eve said.

“Sure,” Vicky concurred. “We’ll tell you anything you like.”

I grinned and turned away and headed for the men’s room.

Grey was in a stall. There was a towel guy who looked like he’d been put together from pieces of driftwood washed up in the Bay Shore marina. He could’ve been anywhere from forty to eighty, his rough-hewn skin colorless, his face pudgy and soggy from years of alcohol abuse. He glanced up at me as I entered, and his whole life story was in his glazed eyes. Condemned for his sins to sit in the corner of a shitter and hand out towels to rich men.

He nodded to me. “Sir.”

“Can you do us a favor and give us a little privacy?” I asked.

“I’m not supposed to leave, sir.”

“How about when you need fresh hand towels or more soap or something?”

He cocked a thumb at the stacks of towels, toilet paper, hand creams, soap, and cleaning products behind him. “We have plenty, sir.”

He made sir sound lidthke fuck you, shitheel .

I pulled out my wallet and dished him a fifty. “You just ran out, right? Take ten minutes.”

“Certainly. Thank you, sir.”

He tipped off his stool and clawed for the door handle, his vision burned out by hours of blinding porcelain-tile reflection.

I stood outside Grey’s stall and said, “So what’s this all about?”

“I’m busy at the moment, right?”

“I knew you had a thing going with Vicky, but why did you invite me along? Why expose us this way?”

“You like Eve, don’t you?” he asked.

“She’s sharp. She’s insistent. Forceful.”

“So why’s that bending you out of shape?”

“It’s not,” I admitted. “But we don’t need another pair of eyes on us.”

“Ah, she does have beautiful, enchanting eyes.” He sounded like he was half in love with her himself. “And since when do you speak for the whole family? You’ve been back a few days and you’re taking over the entire house? You running the show?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Eve is a lovely woman. I thought you’d like her.”

“I do.”

“See how easy that was?”

“But-she wants a story.”

“So feed her one.”

“That’s not what I do.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Terrier, I’m not sure what it is you do anymore. I thought you might like to come out and enjoy yourself for a night.”

Thunder broke over the sound, and the echo picked up such strength on its way to shore that it was like a colossal hammer coming down on the restaurant. The acoustics in the bathroom made it even worse.

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing in there?” I asked. “Giving birth?”

“It would go faster if you’d quit diverting my attention.”

“Sorry,” I said.

He finished up and unlocked the stall door and spent a long time washing his hands and staring at himself in the mirror. He combed his hair, smoothed down one eyebrow. “You’re going to have a good time with her. She’s very witty. She’s also very creative in bed.”

I shook my head. “Oh, Christ, did you really have to tell me that?”

“Go frolic. Have some thrills. Infiltrate. It’ll be an agreeable experience. Trust me.”

“Stop saying shit like that, Grey.”

He laughed and finished duding himself, checked the knot on his tie, and walked out. I followed.

Grey didn’t sit again. The bill was on the table. He said, “Are we ready?” He didn’t look at the check, just counted off six C-notes and laid them down. I wondered what he thought he was getting for his payout. He didn’t need to impress the women. Was he trying to impress me?

He held his hand out to Vicky and helo fped her put her wrap on. Eve began to put her own jacket on, and I realized there was no reason to be rude and I held it for her while she shrugged her arms in. Then she lightly touched my elbow, squeezed it twice, and then released me. I wondered what my play should be. I wanted to talk with Grey longer. I was worried about his health. I wanted to know if he’d seen a doctor as well. He hadn’t had any leafy greens with his dinner. He should be taking fish-oil capsules. Lobster wasn’t fish, it was crustacean. I thought maybe it wouldn’t count.

“I think Vicky and I are going to walk down to the beach and sit in the moonlight for a while,” he told me. “Eve came with me. Do you think that-”

Eve interrupted and said, “It’s all right, I can have the host get me a cab.”

“Nonsense,” Grey said.

“I’d be happy to drive you home,” I told her.

“Thank you, Terry, that’s very sweet of you.”

The valet brought my car up. We got in and I pulled off and drove a little stiffly. I was surprised and a bit uncomfortable that I felt some attraction for her. She didn’t put her hand on my thigh. I thought she might. I sort of expected it.

She said, “I live in Head of the Harbor. Just take 25A east.”

It was a ritzy area on the North Shore. “I know where it is. Northern State is quicker.”

“And more dull. Besides, it’ll give us time to talk.”

“Sure.”

I drove east on 25A. We were going to hit a lot of lights. The traffic was fairly heavy and it grew worse around Huntington when the rain started to come down again. I remembered driving Kimmy down the shore on dark storm-filled nights like this. Eve asked about my youth and I answered honestly, what I could remember. So much of it was always right there on the tip of my tongue, in the front of my mind, and yet so much of it seemed gone forever. I talked about my dad, about climbing drainpipes and jugging safes. There was no inflection in my voice no matter how much I tried to sound lively. Maybe once we got Collie out of the way it would be different. Or we’d be done. I turned on the radio and Eve shut it off. I glanced at her and she smiled. I thought she would smile no matter what I might say or do.

“You want to discuss him,” she said.

I turned and looked at her face in silhouette. “Christ, no.”

“I think you do. It seems to be what matters most to you right now. That much is obvious, Terry.” Her voice rose a bit with a tinge of anger. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or Collie. “You’re thinking about it right now. Anybody can see the pressure you’re under.”

“He’s not what matters most.”

“Then what does? I’d like to hear.”

I thought I might talk about Kimmy and Scooter. I thought about telling her to interview Cara Clarke again, because there was a girl who had a lot of pain to purge.