Page 42 of Capturing Hearts

Barb calls, balls out. “She can come! I can handle a ménage!”

“Barb!” Annie laughs, shaking her head.

The crazy gypsy claps her hands over her mouth. “Oops! Sorry! It’s Christmas!”

Andy is clearly used to this behavior. His mom glances to him. “You okay to stand, honey?”

“Of course, Ma. Don’t worry about it.”

Barb pats his cheek again, glowing with pride

“What’re you having?” Annie smiles, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s thinking of our son, and what it will be like to be a mother, herself.

It’s interesting how you see things differently when a baby is on the way. Normally I’d look at Andy and see a college kid and think nothing of it. But now, seeing him with Barb, it makes me think of my son going to college. Especially since Andy has dark hair like I have. It’s not hard to make the jump, imagining what it will be like to see my son coming home to visit. Him telling us about a girl he’s met, asking if she can come. Telling us he’s decided who he wants to be, what drives him, and hopefully not via a screaming match.

“Can I have a beer?” he asks with the tinge of uncertainty born from inexperience.

“Have you had Guinness?” I ask. “I know in college–you go to UCLA, right?–my friends and I used to try all the beers we could find, to expand our palettes. We wanted to know everything there was, which of course led to a lot of fun nights and very little actual knowledge.”

“How is Mark?” Barb asks, brightly.

“He’s good,” I smile, turning my focus back to Andy again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says, doing it again. “But you guys hung out in college, right?” She turns to Andy. “Mark is this Greek god who’s as tall as a mountain and as delicious as chocolate cream pie.”

“He’s not Greek,” I laugh.

She steamrolls over me. “He may as well be, because it is a Greek tragedy that he wasn’t single so our Taryn could nab him. Oh Lord!!! That man’s body! Sorry, Brendan, but I can’t look at yours since I don’t want to piss off this one.” She gestures to Annie, who’s itching to go get drinks for other customers, but doesn’t want to rudely rush these two. It’s a special night for Barb, and she knows this. Barb waves her spread-out fingers. “But the three of you in college! Oh my! You and Mark and that Tommy guy who–” She sees my eyes change and her expression falls as she realizes her error. With her eyes darting quickly to Annie, she back peddles at the lost smile there, too. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t be bringing that name up! I’m so sorry!”

Annie forces a laugh. “It’s okay. They were very cute; it’s true. Excuse me, I have to go.”

With guilt and horror, Barb watches Annie leave to help her clientele. She spins on the barstool to face me, embarrassed at the awkward look on Andy’s face. He knows his mother stepped over the line, but not why or how. “Your mother doesn’t think! I’m sorry, Brendan! I really am.”

I lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Really. I will take the compliment and tell Mark you said he’s a god. He’ll love that.”

She smiles under worried eyes. “Really, you’re not mad?” I shake my head. “Whatever happened to him? I don’t watch the news.”

Inhaling for patience, I glance to the floor. “He’s in jail. There’s a trial to appeal, but I will make sure he stays in there. For good.”

Andy suddenly announces, “Yeah, I go to UCLA. And we just stick to lagers mostly. I’m not really a fan of Guinness.”

Grateful for the not-so-subtle segue, I exclaim, “What is this blasphemy? Alright, how about Stella Artois?” He nods, relieved his changing the subject worked. “Annie! When you’re ready, the boy wants a Stella, and Barb wants…”

Barb calls out, “Red, please!”

“Barb wants red!”

Annie smiles from where she’s pouring a Jack Daniels and coke. “You got it!”

Changing to easier subjects, the three of us talk for almost an hour, with Annie coming back now and again to join in. Around those brief moments, she and Manny tend bar together, with him running out to clear glasses from tables whenever needed. They move fast as the crowd is thick. My wife comes alive during busy nights like these. Watching her grab the cocktail shaker with one hand and jab the air with it repeatedly as she leans in to get another order from the next person, a huge smile on her face, I understand why she hasn’t wanted to give this up. Sitting around at home waiting for Jacob would drive her insane.

My girl’s got an edge. I love that.

But I’m glad she’s come to her senses. He’s arriving any day, and I don’t care what the doctor said, she should be resting.

She catches me looking at her and walks over, picking up a bar towel to wipe her hands on it. As she arrives in front of me, she lays her hands on her round belly with worry in her eyes. “Honey, you look tired.”

“I was just thinking about you needing to rest,” I chuckle.

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