Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(87)
HANK
“Age was respected among his people, but achievement was revered. As the elders said, if a child washed his hands he could eat with kings.”
CHINUA ACHEBE, THINGS FALL APART
The first week without Charlotte wasn’t the hardest.
I’d come to realize no ‘hardest’ day existed behind me or on the horizon. Every day and every hour would be hard. Thinking about her was hard. Trying not to think about her was hard. And when I thought about her, I was often hard.
It was all just so fucking hard.
I sucked it up, though. I made do. I met Beau for drinks at Genie’s on Saturday nights—like tonight—and went through the motions. I pretended all was well. I told myself this physical separation wasn’t forever.
It felt like forever.
Especially when Hannah handled Charlotte’s job and learned and/or assumed almost the entirety of my duties over the course of five days. Hannah’s competence made me feel obsolete in a good way, giving me the first real break and breather from The Pink Pony since I’d bought the place almost a decade ago.
And you know what? I did not miss it. I missed my staff, and I continued to fret over their well-being. But I didn’t miss the work, the place, or the customers.
On the other hand, Hannah’s competence also made me feel obsolete in a bad way. What was I supposed to do with all this insufferable free time?
You could go over to Charlotte’s and see the kids.
I frowned, the wooden tabletop blurring in and out of focus as Beau and his brothers conversed over the ruckus of Genie’s on a Saturday night. Perhaps I’d aged unnaturally fast in the last ten days since my last in-person interaction with Charlotte, but instead of appreciating the live music, I wished someone would turn the volume down. The loudness, the hubbub and frenetic energy of our surroundings made thinking difficult. I needed to think.
Charlotte had left the ball in my court. She’d told me I could come over and see her and the kids whenever I wanted, just as long as I didn’t do anything to let them down. I wanted to see her and them, but I hadn’t gone over due to the circular nature of my thoughts.
I didn’t want to blow this chance with her, I didn’t want to risk it, but I missed her and those kids so damn much. However, I’d never forgive myself if I did anything—inadvertently or otherwise—to hurt them.
Something about her warning, about breaking their hearts, had me second-guessing myself. Her words felt loaded, not quite a threat but more than a promise. Basically, You hurt one of my kids, even unintentionally, and you can fuck right off.
Not many people liked me and even fewer actually enjoyed my company these days. I knew my disposition over the years had morphed from belligerent and sneaky into a lot grumpy with very little sunshine. What if me simply being myself unintentionally hurt Sonya’s sensitive little heart? Or what if we all got along real well but someone in town gossiped about us, spreading rumors, and those rumors hurt her children?
Now I was back to not wanting to take the risk. Our agreement would have to be enough. I’d be patient until we could rendezvous in secret. We were together officially and exclusively. Compared to what I’d been ready to settle for, that was a lot.
November 10th had been selected as our first date. Charlotte had the day off on the 11th and so would the kids, which meant she and I would be able to stay out later than usual. As she’d predicted, she had very little time or energy for me at the end of her days, though it was clear she did her best to make time. I received texts near 11:00 PM most nights, asking me about my day, telling me she missed me, or sending through a funny photo of her and the kids, snapped when the sun had still been up.
She rarely called, usually too tired. If she did, I always answered but made sure we were off the phone by midnight so she could sleep. Meanwhile, I couldn’t sleep, thinking about her. I could’ve talked to her for hours.
I just . . . I rubbed my chest. I miss her so damn much. I missed getting to see her most days, her smile, her easy way, how she teased, her assessing eyes. And I wondered how the kids were doing, what Joshua was reading, what hell Kimmy was raising. I wanted more than just pictures. I wanted—
“Do you want another beer?” Beau nudged my shoulder.
I blinked at him, frowning. “Another beer?” Blinking at the pint glass in my hand, I realized it was empty. I didn’t remember finishing it.
“You okay, Hank?” Roscoe asked. “You’ve been stewing in something meaty the whole time we’ve been sitting here.”
Both Roscoe and Jethro eyed me speculatively, like I was acting strange, or weird, or in a worrisome way. They’d been doing this all night and it left me feeling tetchy.
“I’m fine, Roscoe. I got a lot on my mind, is all.” I glowered at the empty glass in my hands and decided I would have another. Glancing up, I caught the tail end of the brothers sharing a look. Grunting to draw their collective attention, I said, “If you three are finished passing around those un-stealthy looks of concern, yes. I’ll have another. Please and thank you.”
“A ‘please’ and a ‘thank you’? It’s not even my birthday. Now I know there’s something afoot.” Beau put on an affected voice, no doubt an attempt to lighten my mood. He grabbed our empty glasses and scooted out of the booth. “I’ll be back with another round. Don’t talk about anything important until I get back.” With that, he departed, leaving me with his brothers.