Page 50 of Blue Umbrella Sky
IT WASthe last night of Dane’s stay. He was due to get up early in the morning to catch his flight back to Pittsburgh. Since Dane would need to leave no later than 4:00 a.m., Milt had planned an early dinner in. He’d made his old reliable—baked ziti with meat sauce and ricotta. There was some garlic bread and a peppery salad of arugula and tomatoes in a lemon vinaigrette.
They’d drunk a lot of red wine, an exceptional California Syrah, with their meal, and now they sat at Milt’s little kitchen table, a little drowsy, maybe a little drunk. Conversation was drifting, as it sometimes does when liberated by the grape, toward the personal.
Milt felt more introspective, and perhaps just a touch maudlin, than he had all weekend. He and Dane had done the usual touristy stuff—visiting downtown Palm Springs and checking out things like the art galleries, shops, and the Hollywood-style stars on the sidewalk. They’d hiked the Araby Trail and ogled Bob Hope’s futuristic-looking old mansion tucked into the side of the mountain. They’d driven out to Rancho Mirage and dined in the old-school kitschy elegance of Lord Fletcher’s.
What they hadn’t done much of was talk—heart-to-heart.
Milt gazed at Dane, his oldest and best friend, across the table, sad that in just a few hours he’d be on an eastbound plane, headed home to Seth and Summitville. Milt knew just the life he’d be returning to. In his mind’s eye, he could see the white brick high school at the top of the hill where both of them had worked together for so many years, commiserating over and celebrating both the failures and successes of their respective students. He reveled in the view of the foothills of the Appalachians, which surrounded their little town. That view, from above, also afforded him a peek at the Ohio River as it curved, serpentine, through the little town. For a moment Milt felt almost as though he were back there—he knew its streets so well.
Milt found himself missing Dane already. Who knew when he’d come back? For a few days Dane brought the old connections alive. Milt realized those connections were based in the heart and not in geography, because when he was with Dane, it was as though no time at all had passed. That, Milt thought, was the measure of true friendship.
Dane had brought a piece of home with him. He’d brought thepeaceof home with him, making Milt realize how much he’d missed home—as he still thought of Summitville.
“I miss it.”
Dane immediately caught on. “Home?” His face lit up. “You think you might want to come back?”
Milt swirled the wine in his glass, staring down at its deep red hue, watching as the swirling slowed, leaving legs behind. For just a moment, perhaps, there was a pull toward Ohio. Hecouldreturn. He could do anything he wanted, really, couldn’t he? It would wipe out what little money he had left, but he could do it. Really, it wouldn’t even be that much trouble.
Returning to the little town on the banks of the Ohio River meant he could start right back up where he’d left off with his old friends there. He could buy another house, probably smaller and with not as pretty of a view as the one he’d shared with Corky, but real estate back in Summitville was dirt cheap. A decent two-bedroom home in a perfectly acceptable neighborhood could be had for well under a hundred thousand dollars.
He could find a job. Something—even a greeter at Walmart. Or maybe something would open up at the high school for him. His years of teaching there should count for something, right? Even if he was just a teacher’s assistant, it would be okay. Milt had never been proud.
He had a quick glimpse of himself twenty or thirty years into the future, sitting on a porch swing, clutching a mug of beer. Dappled shadows would make patterns of late-afternoon summer light across his face. The newspaper, folded so he could do the crossword puzzle, would lay beside him. At his feet, a dog as old and tired as he was, curled up and snoring.
It was comforting, in a way. And sad. Because, other than the dog, he was alone.
Just like he was now.
But at least here, in the desert, he had the potential of a new life, one that was more vibrant than sedate. Sometimes life was about embracing risk over comfort.
Home, he’d revel in his memories—of Corky, of course, but also of his mother, passed from cancer seven years ago, and his poor dad, whom a heart attack had taken so early, at age fifty-five. He could walk the banks of the Ohio, recalling the days of his boyhood there, skipping stones and seeing what the river washed up. In the summer he’d swim covertly in its greenish-brown waters, avoiding the currents his mom always warned would surely drag him under.
He could attend the Christmas parade downtown, the Fourth of July fireworks up the river near Pittsburgh, the school plays, and the summer carnivals.
It would be easy. Like getting on a bicycle after not having ridden one for a long, long while.
“No.” Milt smiled across the table at Dane. “This is where I am now. My blood’s gotten acclimated to the heat. I have Ruby.” He looked over at the dog, curled up in her bed in a corner of the living room. Her ears perked up when Milt mentioned her name, but she didn’t stir. She’d been made sleepy, heavy, by being slipped meat and pasta at the table earlier.
“And there’s more possibility for me here now. You know?” Milt surprised himself. He honestly couldn’t have predicted he’d be voicing these words, these sentiments. But now that they were tumbling from his lips, almost as though he’d rehearsed them, he realized they were true.
“I spent a long time living for someone else. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t begrudge Corky that time. I cared for him because I loved him with all my heart. I still do. I did it because I know, without even the smallest bit of doubt, that if the tables were turned, he’d have done the exact same thing for me. Caring for my sick and dying husband was both a horror and a joy, a blessing. I’m grateful to have been his person, to have been there for him when he most needed me, whether he knew it or not.”
Milt had to stop. The tears were welling in his eyes, the lump in his throat expanding. Dane, in his wisdom, didn’t say anything stupid. He didn’t say anything at all. He merely reached across the table and took Milt’s hand and squeezed it.
He let go when Milt found himself capable of going on. “It’s taken me these months out here—alone—to realize that Corky loved me so much he would want this new life for me.” Milt smiled through his tears. He confessed, “I think he’s even let me know it—in subtle little ways.”
“Itisbeautiful here,” Dane said quietly.
“You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” Milt cocked his head. He poured them both some more wine. “The truth is, Dane, if you’d have come out here a few months sooner, I might have actually packed things up and come back with you.” Milt drained his wineglass. “But things have changed.” Milt smiled. “You really thought you might lure me back?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I came out here only as a getaway, although I did desperately need some Milt timeandsome sun!” He chuckled. “But before I left, Seth and I talked about it. There was this hope, and I’ll be the first to admit it was a very selfish hope, that I’d come out here and find you feeling a little lost and a lot homesick. And through careful, subtle persuasion, my specialty, I’d talk you into coming back. Seth even said to offer our place as a landing pad until you could get yourself back together—as we both knew you would.
“So when you said you missed it, I leaped on that, because I wasn’t sure you did.” He smiled, but there was a little sadness there. “I could see you were making your way here. I could see a certain settling in. I never expected to see you in a trailer, for Christ’s sake, but it’s cute, and it’s homey, and it’syou. Yours alone. And I see that as healthy. I see that as a good thing, as much as the selfish part of me wants you miserable, pining for the cold and gray skies of eastern Ohio. Ha! Fat chance.
“No, Milt, my old buddy. I see good things for you here.” Dane’s gaze drifted out the window, and Milt imagined he was looking at Billy’s trailer.
Dane said, “You didn’t ask, and you sure as hell don’t need it, but you have my blessing.” He looked toward the silver trailer outside again. “You deserve something for yourself. And I know Corky would be as happy for you as I am. As happy as Seth will be when I tell him all about this Billy Blue person.” Dane burst into laughter. “That’snothis real name, is it?”
