The Relationship Pact(36)

She busies herself behind the counter and doesn’t bother to look up. “Do you like bacon?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Exactly. That’s the right answer.”

I sit back and watch her work. She whistles softly while she heats up bacon on a small grill. The sound is simple and melodic, and I strain to hear the words. It’s a beat I’ve heard before, but I can’t place it.

“Tell me about your girlfriend,” she says.

“Ah, well, she’s not really my girlfriend.”

Judy looks at me over her shoulder. “I get it.”

I read the look on her face.

“No. It’s not like that.” I laugh. “It’s really not. We are more of a situational, convenience-based, and probably a little hormonal-based thing, if I’m not lying.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She looks back at what she’s doing. “I’m not going to say a word.”

“It’s really not.”

“Okay. It’s not.”

There’s something about the way she just agrees with me that makes me want her to believe me. I need her to believe me.

“I’m helping a friend out,” I tell her as if it matters. “We’re going to an event of some sort together. So it’s a date, but it’s … not. We’re playing pretend, I guess.”

The words aren’t all the way out of my mouth before I taste them. The idea Larissa is pretending when she’s around me—that her kindness and caring are just an act—tastes bitter.

“Well, I played house with my husband for fifty years, and it always felt like we were playing pretend. He was always so much fun, my dear Ronnie. You just never knew what that man was going to say. I woke up every morning for fifty years, and every day felt like the first one.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean there weren’t fights because, God love him, he got on my nerves some days. But being married to him never really felt like work.”

“You are the first person I’ve ever heard say that.”

She laughs. “Marriage is always work. Don’t let me fool you. But aren’t all relationships? I mean, look at you and me. I’ve had to work on getting you to talk and stick around for a little while. Had I not done that, you might’ve turned around and walked out of here.”

She has a point.

“You’re right,” I admit. “But marriage seems like it’s on another level. Like once you get married, you’re thrust into this life with another person and connected to everything they do—good or bad. And then you have kids and not only have to feed and clothe yourself but them too …”

I shrug as if that proves my point.

Judy walks toward me, holding a plate. “You’re absolutely right, Hollis. It is another level, and my, oh my, is it hard.” She sets a sandwich in front of me. “My Ronnie and I had five kids, and it was the hardest and longest years of my life. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

I consider her words as I pull the plate across the table.

“This looks great,” I tell her. “Thank you.”

I smile at her.

“Of course. You’re very welcome.”

Relaxing back in the booth, I stretch my legs out in front of me. It’s the first time since our last football game that my head didn’t hurt at least a little bit in the back. This morning is also the first time that I haven’t felt like my insides were sawed into a hundred little pieces, and I had to piece them back together like a jigsaw puzzle and hope they fit.

Judy starts to sit down across from me. She groans a little as she bends.

“Can I help you?” I ask, starting to get up.

She motions for me to sit down. “I’m fine. It just takes me a little longer than it used to. Oomph.” She drops into the seat. “There we go. All is well now.”

“I’m glad.”

I take a bite of my sandwich. It’s bacon with an egg and some kind of white cheese and practically melts in my mouth. It’s much better than the Ding Dongs I had for a midnight snack and an early breakfast.

“Not sure I should believe you, Judy.”

“About what?”

“That you say that you’re seventy-five.”

“Not a day older or younger,” she says, pride ripe in her tone. “Still looking pretty good, don’t you think?”

I swallow. “I was just wondering if you’d let me take you out to dinner.”

She tips her head back and laughs. “Oh, child. Because that’s what you are—a child. You couldn’t handle this old woman.”

“I don’t know about that,” I tease. “I’ll have you know that I’ve handled my fair share of women.”

She lifts her chin. “That’s what my last boyfriend said. He couldn’t keep up with me.” She leans forward. “I think he thought I was old and done. Heck, there might be snow on the roof, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a fire in the furnace if you know what I mean.”

Somehow, I swallow my spit, and it goes down the wrong pipe. My cheeks turn red as I sputter.

She watches me try not to die with amusement written all over her face.

“Sorry,” I choke out. “You, uh, caught me a little off guard there.”