Page 87 of Here's to Yesterday

“Wow,” she says quietly. “Wow.”

“Yep. See why what I said earlier about this being kept on the DL isimportant?”

I watch her anger fade away, and shenods.

“What brings you by?” Garyasks.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I watch the older man sitting behind the desk. At first glance, he appears to be any other old bartender. But upon further inspection, he looks like an aged version of me. Only thinner. Muchthinner.

“Wanted to check in on you. How youfeelin’?”

Gary arches a brow at me. “Tucker,” he draws out. “Come on, kid. You can’t keep coming in here to check onme.”

“Of course I can. I got that right when you came into my life. I’ve got a lot of years to make up for. Suck it up, oldman.”

He lets out a huff. “Fine, fine. I’m doin’ all right. No flare-ups.” I give him a disbelieving look. “Kid, you’re killing me. Had one headache yesterday, but it’s the first I’ve had in months. It’s nothing to worryabout.”

I stand up straighter and brace my legs for a fight of the verbal variety. “Call your doctor. You’re going this week. I’ll takeyou.”

Gary doesn’t argue. “Okay. I’ll callnow.”

Huh. Not what I wasexpecting.

“Good,” I say. “We’ll be out front. Come find us when you’redone.”

I usher Maura out of the office as Gary picks up the ancient corded phone on his desk to make the phonecall.

Maura doesn’t say anything as we walk back down the blackened hallway and into the brightly lit area. Seeing it all lit up like this is still something I try to get used to since it’s typically fairly dark in here. With the lights all kicked on, you can see how much junk is plastered across the walls. Hundreds of photos, framed tickets and set lists, posters, a couple instruments, all kinds of music paraphernalia. I asked Gary one time how he acquired it all, and he said it was all from the road and people who have come through Mic’s since he reopened it after he had his surgery, which is saying something since that was only a few yearsago.

The place used to belong to a guy name Mic, an old friend of Gary’s that passed away as Gary was coming into town. He thought it’d be fun to name the place after himself since he pronounced his name like “Mike” but the spelling resembled the shortened form of “microphone.” I think most people thought it was a grammatical error. And Gary loved to stir up shit and confusion, so he never changed the name. Plus, it fits theplace.

“Explain,” Maura finally says when we take a seat on the edge of the stage that I frequently performon.

Knew this wascoming.

I let out a soft sigh and begin explaining my best-keptsecret.

“Well, twenty-four years ago my mom had an affair with Gary. She had a bit of a wild streak back in her prime. Anyway, it didn’t last long, and they ended it before my mother found out she was pregnant. Gary toured as a guitarist for a ton of different bands back then, so she never told him about me, pretended I belonged to Aaron, my other dad. I always had a suspicion that Aaron wasn’t my father. I’m not sure if it was the way my mother glared at me—like I was her biggest regret—or the fact that we look nothing alike. Either way, I didn’t get it confirmed until I wastwenty.”

I peek over to find Maura watching me with curiouseyes.

“My mother,” I continue, “is a drunk, Maura. It’s not something anyone talks about, because how can you?” I swallow a lump in my throat and go on. “So, anyway, my parents were arguing one night over it, and I happened to stop by for a visit when I walked in on their…conversation. I demanded to know who my real father was, and my mom happily provided me with the info. It took me almost a year to work up the courage to call him,” I admit quietly. “When I finally did, Gary was shocked but happy to hear from me. We never had to take a test, because it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that I’m his son. We’re the spitting image of oneanother.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Maura mumbles. “I thought for sure my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw you two together. No wonder you always just wave at him from the stage. It would have been a deadgiveaway.”

I grin because she’s right. “Yeah, we try and keep it hush-hush around the club. We obviously connected with music and everything else sort of fell into place,but…”

“There’s always a but,” she interruptssadly.

“Then I found out he was sick,” I press on in a grim tone. “Brain tumor. He had the surgery to remove it, and I convinced him to move to Wakefield to help keep an eye on him while he recovered. That’s what that was about back there. Headaches are a sign, and I don’t let him ignore a singleone.”

“Good. Youshouldn’t.”

I snort. “Ha. Tell his ass that. So, yeah, that’s where we’re at. We’re building a relationship and working through twenty-one missedyears.”

Maura’s quiet for a moment. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She seems sad, confusedmaybe.

“Feel free to ask questions, Maura. You can,” I tell her, standing up to stretch. I start pacing the length of the stage while she’s contemplating all this. Since this is my first time telling this all to someone else, I’m feelinganxious.

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