All Good People Here(93)

“Everything’s fine. Just watching TV.” Billy hesitated. After so long without talking to his friend, he felt rusty doing it. “I started thinking about that night, the one on the football field, with the weed killer.” He laughed. “Remember that?”

“How could I forget? God, we were such idiots back then.”

“Yeah,” Billy agreed, although that wasn’t actually how he felt. He loved Krissy and the kids—of course he did—but marriage and fatherhood weren’t exactly how he’d imagined them. For him, that summer was the best time of his life. “Well, anyway, just thought I’d give you a call. It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah.”

Billy’s gaze roamed around the kitchen where he stood next to the landline. Maybe it had been a mistake reaching out to Dave, maybe he should just hang up now before it got any more awkward. But just before he could, Dave said, “Hey, you wanna go for a drive? Like old times? I got a six-pack I could use a hand with.”

Again, Billy gave the receiver a look of disbelief. Not only was this an unusual invitation—he and Dave hadn’t hung out in years—it was already almost midnight. But he didn’t care. Krissy and the kids had long since gone to bed, and he deserved to have a little fun. A smile spread slowly over his face. “That sounds great.”

Ten minutes later, he and Dave were driving outside town past cornfields that sprawled for miles. The streetlamps were few and far between, and the only other light was that from the thin sliver of moon. Dave was unusually quiet. Whenever Billy tried for conversation—“Remember our teacher Mr. Yacoubian? God, I hated him.” Or, “Remember that party in the cornfield when Robby O’Neil got into a fight with Caleb Shroyer?”—Dave would just nod vaguely in response.

But then as he turned onto a dirt road that separated a cornfield from a patch of woods, Dave said, “How’re the kids doing?”

Billy took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, they’re good.” But Dave had shifted the car into park and was angling his body to him, clearly waiting for him to go on. “Uh,” Billy continued. “January’s dancing is going good. She’s always running around the house doing moves.”

Dave smiled, but his eyes were far off and sad. “I hear about her sometimes from Margot. They seem to be getting close.”

“Who?”

“My niece. Margot.” He paused. “She lives across the street from you, dude.”

“Right, right.” Adam Davies from across the street was so different from his old friend, sometimes Billy forgot they were actually related, but he knew Dave’s niece. She and January were always running around the farm together. “I need another beer,” he said, bending down to pull a can from the ring. “You want one?”

“Sure. Why not.” But there was a slight edge in his voice. Dave accepted the beer from Billy and cracked it open. “What about Jace?”

“Huh?”

“How’s Jace doing?” He articulated Billy’s son’s name clearly as if Billy might not recognize it.

“Uh, yeah, he’s fine. Both the kids are fine.” He took a long sip of beer, staring out his side window at the cornfield beyond. In the night, the crop looked black. He didn’t want to talk about his son, whom he didn’t understand. He didn’t even want to talk about January. He just wanted to drink and joke with his friend like old times. “But what about you, huh? You up to anything fun these days?”

For a moment, Dave stayed silent. Then Billy heard a choked sound from the driver’s seat and he snapped his head around to look, eyes widening. Dave, whom Billy had never once seen cry, was pressing a fist against his mouth, eyes closed tight. His chest was heaving, little sobs hiccuping from his throat.

“Whoa, dude,” Billy said. “You okay?”

But Dave couldn’t speak. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, his fist pressed to his mouth. Then, finally, his breathing slowed and he opened his eyes, which were thankfully still dry. Looking straight ahead, he said, “Rebecca had a miscarriage.”

Billy swallowed. He had no idea what to say to that. The word miscarriage sent a shiver of discomfort through his body. He couldn’t believe Dave had just revealed something so private. “Wow, man. I, uh, I’m sorry.”

“It happened, like, a few hours ago. She wasn’t far along, but…” He shook his head. “It was bad.”

Billy frowned as Dave’s words slowly sunk in. Rebecca’s miscarriage had happened that night? Billy had assumed a few days had passed at least, but now it all made sense. That was why Dave had talked to Billy over the phone. That was why he’d suggested a drive—not because he wanted to see Billy, but because he needed a fucking shoulder to cry on. And yet, for the past six years, every time Billy had needed a friend, Dave hadn’t been there. It would’ve been nice to go for a drive that one night after he and Krissy had taken January to the hospital with a fever of 103. It would’ve been nice to grab a beer with his friend after Jace had thrown a fit because he didn’t want to ride in the tractor with him. But through it all, Dave was nowhere to be found. Billy felt all the sympathy he’d had harden in his chest.

He took a sip of beer. “Wow. That sucks.”

Beside him, Dave froze. Slowly, he lifted his head. “That sucks? My wife has a miscarriage and you say that sucks?”