Page 122 of The Fix-Up

Ali hugged me. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“Not so much.”

She handed me a microphone. “Tell everyone thank you.”

“Oh.” I took it and Ali shoved me forward. I wasn’t a shy person. In fact, I’d spent several years of my life trying my damnedest to get in front of large crowds of people. But staring out at that field, my eyes catching on people I knew, who came into the Sit-n-Eat once a day or once a month, I found myself speaking into the microphone with a trembling voice.

“Um, thank you? I didn’t expect this at all. I, well…It’s been a rough year with Ollie passing. I have tried to make him proud even though he’s not with us anymore. Could you all imagine if he’d won this award?”

Those who could, laughed.

“He loved this town. I do, too. Three years ago, I came here exhausted and without a plan. And you all, you’ve made me feel like I’ve always been here. Thank you for that.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the next few months will hold. There might be changes. I don’t know if I’ll still be here, but I want you to know there’s something special about Two Harts.”

Oliver tugged on my shirt. “Can I say something?”

“Sure.” I lowered it to his face.

“Thank you for making my mommy win,” he said, getting another laugh from the crowd.

When we got back to our spot, Gil stood there smiling. He seemed to hesitate for a half second before he caught me up in a hug. “Who cares what they think?” he whispered.

Fifteen minutes later, the four of us were lying on the blanket on our backs so we could watch the fireworks. First me, then Oliver, then Mikey with his headphones on, then Gil. As the bursts of light pulled out oohs and ahhs from us, I had a moment of such happiness, it made my chest ache.

A man I loved and his brother who I was already half in love with. A kid I’d move mountains for. A town I loved. I had to wonder why we got glimpses like this—of what life could be—only for it all to be taken away from us.

I knew it couldn’t last but for this minute in time, it was perfect.

It was everything.

FIFTY-THREE

[Love is…] being caring for your family.

—LUCIEN H., AGE 8

“Do you think Mikey will come back and visit?” Oliver asked as he knelt on a stool at the counter, a bit of sticky maple syrup on his chin from his waffles. Since it was summer break, he’d be hanging out here until lunch. After, he had a standing playdate with a friend from school like he did every Thursday this summer. “It was almost like having a brother. ’Cept he’s real tall.”

I ruffled his hair. “You’ll have to ask Gil, buddy.”

“I’m guessing the visit went well.” Iris leaned a hip against the counter.

It wasn’t quite eight and the first morning rush had come and gone. A couple of the regulars were tucked in at a booth. Malcolm had brought his laptop to work on what he called his Great American Novel.

“It did.” Mikey had ended up staying the night. He and Oliver had a “sleepover” in the living room, falling asleep to a movie within minutes of the lights turning off. When Gil said it wastime to leave, Mikey sulked and dragged his feet and tried to talk Gil into letting him stay just one more day. In the end, they’d both left Sunday morning and only Gil returned Sunday evening.

“Mikey is my friend,” Oliver said like he’d been awarded first place in a spelling bee. “I’m gonna write letters to him and Gil will mail them in the mailbox.”

“That’s pretty sweet, dude.” Iris held up a fist and Oliver bumped it.

“I’m gonna go write him one right now.” He hopped off the stool and raced back to the office where he kept all his art supplies.

Iris eyed me over the rim of her coffee cup. “So…”

“So what?”

“How are things with you and Mr. Dalton?” She waggled her eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”

I ducked my head to hide a smile. “I have no idea what you mean.”

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