Page 15 of The Sky in Summer
I signal him to follow me through the slider and onto the small patio in the backyard.
“Nice! Are we barbecuing?”
I lift the lid which reveals the empty grill. Glad I turned it on fifteen minutes ago.
“Yeah. Are you a steak guy? Hope so because that’s what we are having,” I chuckle.
“I’m a steak guy. Are you a good barbecuer? If not, I can do it.”
“Sit your ass down, Mr. Lyon, and be dazzled.”
He finds the confidence appealing and follows directions.
“Now you have to live up to your brag. Proceed with the dazzle. This is gonna be fun.”
“I’m going to get us a drink first. I’m having tequila. What’s your pleasure?”
He wants to answer the question, and it looks like he has a doozy at the ready. But he holds back.
“Tequila is fine. Let’s get wasted and tell each other lies.”
As I walk into the house, I send him a message over my shoulder. “I am not getting wasted and neither are you. It wouldn’t happen anyway. I can drink any man under the table. It’s my special talent.”
His voice carries into the kitchen. “You are the bossiest bitch I’ve ever been friends with.”
I don’t know why the remark is so funny to me, but it is. I take out the tumblers and pour the Patron. Getting out the plate of steaks, I put everything on the tray prepared earlier. Heading back out, we make eye contact.
“Only afriendcan get away with calling me a bitch.” I say it with emphasis.
His face changes from a wide smile to a frown. “Well then I’m definitely not calling you that again.”
“You are a stubborn man,” I say, placing the drink in front of him.
We lift our glasses.
“What shall we drink to?”
He thinks for a nanosecond before settling on the right toast.
“Let us raise our glasses to good choices.”
“Good choices? What exactly does that mean?”
“I’m saying we made a good choice about each other thirty plus years ago. It can happen again.”
I don’t press the point any further, but instead clink my glass against his, and take a healthy sip. The warm sensation feels great heading for my stomach. In this moment I am not just mom, not the boss or organizer of anyone’s life. I don’t have to do anything but be in the moment. It feels strange and wonderful.
“You hungry?” I ask.
“Starving. Got any chips?”
“Are you kidding? This is chip central. Can you grab some from the pantry, while I put the steaks on? It’s across from the refrigerator.”
Van gets up and heads inside.
“Yeah. I want to see what kind of snacks you like. You can learn a lot about a person that way,” he calls. “Your pantry is going to reveal your true essence.”
“I like Funyuns.”
