Morrie’s grin got bigger. “Yeah again.”
“So don’t fuck with me.”
“Dude, be cool,” Morrie said, still grinning.
Colt shook his head and rapped his knuckles on the bar, moving to leave. “Gotta go.”
“Colt, wait,” Morrie called, Colt stopped and turned to his friend, “I’m happy for you.”
Colt nodded and smiled. “Thanks, man.”
“I’m happier for her,” Morrie said quietly and Colt felt his neck twist.
“Right.”
“Thank you for bringin’ her back.”
“Morrie.”
“I missed her, man.”
“Morrie.”
“Dad did too.”
“Stop, Morrie.”
“Dude, just sayin’ –”
Colt cut him off and put an end to that particular conversation. “You’re welcome.”
Morrie nodded then declared, “If you don’t play ‘Mony Mony’ at the reception, I’m boycotting.”
Colt moved to leave, shaking his head again. “I’ll make note of that.”
“And ‘Shout’,” Morrie yelled at Colt’s back, Colt lifted a hand a flicked out his fingers, “and ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’,” Morrie went on and Colt stopped and turned to him.
“It’s a wedding reception, Morrie, not a fuckin’ 80’s flashback.”
Morrie’s eyes swept the bar and when they hit Colt he was grinning again.
Colt reckoned about fifty cell phones were now being dialed. He was still shaking his head when he walked out the front door and he didn’t care that news was right then sweeping town, not at all.
Colt sat on the top of picnic table at Arbuckle Acres Park, his feet on the bench and he watched his mother walk up to him, as always, clutching her purse.
When she got close, he called, “Hey Ma.”
Her smile was small and hesitant, as always, when she replied, “Hey Alec.”
He watched as she sat on the bench by his feet, her eyes to the ground.
“How’re you gettin’ on?” he asked her and her head came up but her hand never quit clutching the strap on her purse.
“Where’s Feb?” she asked back instead of answering.
“Don’t know. She’s been kind of busy.”
Her eyes slid to look over his shoulder and she muttered, “She usually comes with you.”
“I needed to talk to you alone today.”
Her eyes slid back to his and then skidded over his shoulder.
“Everything okay?” she asked the sky over his shoulder.
“Everything’s good.”
“Feb okay?”
“Yeah.”
“The family?”
“We’re all fine, Ma.”
She nodded then looked back at the ground. “Your Dad’s home.”
“You told me that last time, Ma.”
“He’s doin’ good, stayin’ sober, just like me.”
“Glad to hear it,” Colt said and he was, at least he was glad to hear it about her.
“He said he wants you to think about lettin’ him come, next time you call.”
Colt shook his head. “Ma –”
“Just think, Alec. Next time we talk then you can tell me, okay?”
Colt kept shaking his head. “Don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
She looked at him and said, “Talk to Feb about it.”
“Ma –”
“Just promise me you’ll talk to Feb, please, Alec?”
Colt looked at his mother. Two months ago, Mary Colton had helped to save three lives, one was precious to him and the other two, in one way or another, meaningful to him though Melanie more so. There were a few very unlikely heroes in that town, Darryl was one of them, Mary Colton another. But both changed their earned reputations proving that deep down they had something that made those reputations false.
For that reason, he said, “I’ll talk to Feb but, you should know, even if I do, the answer is unlikely to change.”
“I know,” she whispered and her eyes yet again slid away.
“I’m askin’ her to marry me,” Colt told her and her gaze shot right back.
She was still whispering when she asked, “What?”
“Tonight.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed and her hand came to his knee.
She hadn’t touched him, not since they started to meet there at the park, almost always with Feb bringing coffees and treats from Mimi’s or a packed lunch. It didn’t matter to Feb that it wasn’t 911 that pointed them to Susie’s house, but Colt’s mother, Feb would have come with him anyway if he wanted to meet his mother. But Colt did wonder if she’d bring coffees, baked goods or packed lunches if Mary Colton hadn’t helped to save her life.
Though, he guessed she would.
Colt put his hand on his mother’s at his knee, her body jerked and she tried to pull her hand away but his fingers curled around hers holding it tight.
He caught her eyes and kept her gaze, speaking softly. “I don’t want to hurt you but you gotta know, I’m dancin’ the mother son dance with Jackie.” She closed her eyes and he squeezed her hand until she opened them again then he continued. “But, you stay sober, I want you there. Not him, just you. Yeah?”
She nodded and he squeezed her hand again.
“Will you…” her voice was choked, she cleared her throat and her hand jerked in his but he kept his hold firm. She pulled in breath through her nose and asked, “I don’t… well, we both know I don’t deserve that dance but will you dance another dance with me?”
“Yeah,” Colt replied without hesitation.
Her hand twitched in his and she repeated, “Yeah?”
“You stay sober, then, yeah.”
“I’ll stay sober, son,” she promised.
“I reckon you will,” he told her and again her hand twitched.
He’d never believed in her, never.
Then again she’d never stayed sober this long and she’d never saved Feb’s life so he figured he owed her that.
She pressed her lips together, sucked in breath through her nostrils, keeping control but just barely then she nodded and she squeezed his hand.
“You need money?” Colt asked.
“We’re good,” she said quickly.
Colt tugged gently on her hand. “Ma, you need money?”
She pulled in another breath through her nose, shook her head and said softly, “We’re good, honey.”
“Call me, you do.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe next time you can come over to the house, have dinner.”
He watched her swallow then nod. “I’d like that.”
He gave her one last squeeze and then let her hand go, pushing up, he jumped off the table and she stood up.
As he walked beside her to her car, she asked, “Feb a good cook?”
“Yeah, though she mostly cooks breakfast. Dinner we usually have Frank’s at the bar. Or Reggie’s.”
“Frank’s a better cook than most everyone I know.”
“That’s the truth.”
“And Reggie’s is the best pizza I’ve had in my life and I used to live in Chicago so you know what that means.”
“I do.”
She stopped at the driver’s side door and before she could do it Colt leaned in and opened it for her.
She didn’t get in. She tipped her head back and looked at him.
“You happy, Colt?”
He felt his body jerk and he blinked.
She’d never called him Colt.
He covered his surprise and the strangely welcome feeling he felt at her calling him by what he considered his true name by answering, “Yeah.”
She nodded. “All a mother can ask,” she put her hand on top of his, his was resting on top of the door, and she dipped her face, looking into the car and muttering under her breath, “love you, son.”
Then she quickly folded herself into the car and, without looking at him, grabbed the handle, slammed the door, started the car and pulled away. She was ten car lengths away before she got the courage to toot her horn.