Page 36 of An Unfinished Story
“Hmm, I’m not sure.”
“You’re a lucky girl. But I’ll give you some advice, Alexa. Stay away from me.”
Alexa missed the point. “Stay away is usually defined as stay clear of. Avoid. Did that answer your question?”
Whitaker grinned. “I guess you understand me as much as anyone. Alexa, play Roy Orbison.”
Roy Orbison’s “Crying” filled the kitchen, and Whitaker wept while he chopped celery. “Now that’s a sad song.”
Whitaker sang with the Big O as he dropped two slices of bread into melting butter in a pan. “Crying” had to be the saddest song in the world, he decided. He unwrapped two slices of cheese and placed them on the bread. “Crying” was the saddest song, and a tuna melt was the saddest dish in the world.
When his sandwich was golden brown, he set it on a plate and sat on the floor. He’d eaten hundreds of these over the years.
“Alexa,” he said. “Play ‘Everybody Hurts’ by R.E.M.”
Michael Stipe was soon singing the second saddest song in the world. Whitaker took a bite out of the sandwich and quickly pulled it away with a curse. The hot butter burned his tongue. He set down the sandwich and fell back against the cabinet, closing his eyes. His tongue was burned, and his kitchen smelled like fish. This was what it was like to be godless, mission-less, worthless. A prisoner in solitary confinement. He’d finally reached rock bottom.
Whitaker coughed into another cry and covered his face. How unmanly and feeble of him to spill tears. His father would tell him to “buck up.” Jack Grant would never allow his son to cry. But dammit if Whitaker could help it. As the sandwich cooled on the floor next to him, Whitaker not only listened but felt the music as his life unraveled before him. He had failed his dreams; he’d failed his family. He’d even failed a poor widow by lying to her.
What a sad man he was.
And everybody hurts ...
Claire was separating two tables after the lunch service when Whitaker appeared at the door. His eyes drooped like those of a short-nosed dog. Guests were still lingering, finishing the last of their meals. She had no intention of hurrying them.
He crossed the restaurant and stopped five feet from her, on the other side of the square table.
She pushed a chair back under the table harshly, the legs scraping the wooden floor. “What are you doing here?”
Clasping his hands behind his back, he said, “I need to tell you something.”
Claire crossed her arms. “What?”
“I didn’t read the book.” He bit his lips after the confession.
Claire felt sick. “You lied to me?”
“Yes, I lied.” He reached for his mustache but gave up and dropped his hands. “I read a chapter, or most of the first chapter. It’s good. I just ... I’ve got my own stuff going on. I figured that if I lied, I could get you off my back.”
Claire scolded him with her eyes. “You’re an asshole.”
“That’s about right. But I wanted you to know. It’s not the book. His writing’s great. I would love to help you. It’s just my life sucks. On top of it all, I just heard about my ex-wife dating again. I don’t even know why I care, but I do. It’s a beautiful reminder of how worthless I am.”
Claire returned to pushing the chairs back. “Doesn’t make lying to me right.”
Whitaker joined in the task, pushing one of the chairs back on his side of the table.
“Please don’t touch my chairs. You’ve done enough, seriously.”
Whitaker backed off and smiled cynically. “I hoped by coming here you might give me the books again. Let me give it a real read. Even if I can’t pull it off, maybe I can convince someone better than me to help. Either way, I’d like to read the story. It’s good so far. Way better than I had imagined.”
Claire sighed. “I’m not sure you deserve to read his story now. I can’t believe you lied to me. You have no idea what an awful morning I’ve had.”
Whitaker nodded. “I can imagine.”
She blew out a blast of air and looked away. What good would come of being hardheaded now? He was offering to read it. Should she let him?
Claire leaned over the table and centered the basket of hot sauces and salt and pepper. “I appreciate you coming here. And, yes, I’ll let you read it. But you’re still an asshole.”
