Page 60 of Missile Tow
“John might,” she admitted. “You know, come back.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Won’t matter though,” she muttered, fixing her eyes on me. “In my opinion, even if you weren’t here, his return wouldn’t matter. At least regarding Calvin getting back with John,” sheexplained. “I’ve known the kid his whole life. Once he gets through the pain and the bullshit associated with it, he moves forward. Just his nature, son.”
“The deaths of his parents and then his grandfather?” I asked.
“Yeah. Definitely those losses, but when John left, that about killed him,” she said. “My Calvin was gutted. Unprepared, and lost without his right arm.”
Her words bothered me more than I liked to admit. I was correct. John had been Chip’s great love. The one man to truly capture his heart. The perfect partner I could never compete with.
“Figured,” I said, feeling defeated. “I experienced the same thing. Maybe my ex wasn’t as great as I hear John is, but I was dumped suddenly, too.”
Bertie didn’t immediately respond to me, possibly choosing her words carefully. “Listen, son. John is a wonderful young man. No doubt about that,” she explained. “But, and this is a doozy of a but, John did a crappy thing to Calvin. I think a person reveals themselves when they so selfishly and easily discard one person for another. And I think Calvin knows that.”
“You think?” I asked, needing reassurance. “I know I sound pathetic. Probably weak too, but I’m terrified of John returning.”
Bertie crossed her arms and stared at me, boring into my soul like she had an issue with my concern. “That worry ain’t weak, son. You’d be a fool not to respect it.”
I nervously laughed. “See?” I asked. “Even you agree.”
“Not with what you think,” she corrected. “I agree he might return to Missile. But I wouldn’t worry about Chip’s response to his return.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Simple,” she declared. “You showed up.”
I think everyone would find solace in a comment like Bertie’s, but I’d met John, and I was well aware of the competition. Mine and John’s visit in the Seattle condo’s garage exposed me to how kind and gracious he came across.
He’d literally replaced me in Evan’s world, but he seemed remorseful and considerate. I didn’t sense a single spiteful thing about him. And of course, he was a stunning man to look at. That issue alone may have a lot to do with my fears. But there was one upsetting fact that I felt helped my cause. He’d unceremoniously dumped Chip the way Evan had dumped me.
“I’m not sure my showing up in Missile will affect how Chip reacts if John comes back.”
“Of course, it will,” she disagreed. “If nothing else, and even if you leave, you’ve proven to him he’s worthy of love.”
“He doubted that?”
She nodded, herself seeming surprised by the fact. “The boy was lost; his entire self-worth crushed when John left. The luster clean wiped away. I’ve never seen Calvin so despondent, or so convinced he had nothing left after what John did.”
“Gosh,” I sighed. “Sounds like my life the past year.”
“And in my belief,” she began. “Not to sound like a wackadoodle or anything, but what you both need is why you’re in Missile.”
“Do you honestly believe that?” I asked, hopping from the counter and standing a foot away from her. “Because I do too. And with total transparency, I want you to know I purposefully stopped in Missile after speaking with John,” I revealed. “But, and let’s be clear, I didn’t know Chip was John’s ex when I arrived. And besides that odd coincidence, I had a weird hunch related to the message encouraging me to take a journey. Meeting John added intrigue to get me to visit Missile. So, maybe I’m the wackadoodle.”
Bertie nodded aggressively in agreement. “Wackadoodle or not, I wished for a man like you for months,” she admitted. “I found myself observing customers, travelers, locals, and any assumed single man who showed up here, to determine whether they’d be a good choice for Calvin. I about gave up until ten days or so ago.”
I lowered my voice. “Doesn’t the fact that my ex is now with his ex seem like too much of a coincidence?” I asked.
“If you believe in coincidences,” she replied. “Which I do not!”
We both startled when the glass door to the garage popped open. Chip burst through in his usualbull-in-a-China-cabinetstyle.
He came up to the counter. “What?” he asked, wiping the front of his greasy jacket. “Somethin’ on my face?”
Bertie and I exchanged glances. “Nope,” she replied. “Just shootin’ the shit with Van.”
Chip rolled his eyes and then studied me closely, probably trying to decide whether I was okay. He eyed Bertie again, undoubtedly checking her bullshit-ometer as he liked to call her ways.
