The Bar and Grill Pt. 04

"But if you're afraid," I said, still unsure what my reaction should be.

She shook her head. "That's just it," she said, her eyes soft and her lips turning into a melancholy smile. "With you I'm not afraid. You'd never hurt me."

"But it would probably hurt the first time," I warned, inwardly wincing as I tried talking her out of giving me what I really wanted most to try in the bedroom department. "The first few times at least. It'll probably hurt you know."

"Still," she said, "I want to try sometime. If I get used to it--if you go real slow--then maybe I'll like it." She smiled a little brighter. "I know I liked what you already did there. A lot."

I paused, staring at her. She was serious.

"Where did this come from?" I asked.

Her smile got wide at this. "Face it, Tim, you're not exactly the go-getter type. We'd spend the rest of our lives together and you'll never make a move on it. Never even bring it up, right?"

I nodded. She was right. I'd been shot down so many times before that I'd never take the initiative on this one. Jammer told me once that chicks either liked anal or they didn't. Those that did would make it clear; those that didn't would make it even more clear if you tried to go there. Nicole seemed to be the in-between chick, the one that was interested in trying it to find out which camp she fell into.

Then my eyes narrowed at the thought of something she'd also just said.

"The rest of our lives together?" I said.

She bit her lip. "I just meant," she said.

I beamed. "So you're considering that?"

She nodded. "I'm not trying to scare you or anything. Pressure you. That's. . . . It just kind of slipped out."

"Boy," I said, "you're right. Maybe I should start taking a little more initiative, huh?"

She leaned over and kissed me. "I don't want you to change. I love you just the way you are. It's cute."

I pulled her in for a tight hug. "I love you more. Way more."

Later, I kissed Nicole on the cheek as I pulled on a windbreaker and got ready to go pick up Alistair. I was still on cloud nine, amazed at the speed--or lack thereof--with which my perfectly shitty, post-divorce life was sorting itself out.

"Goin' home?" Lonnie Mackie said as I approached the bar, which was next to the exit.

"Yep," I said.

He was standing, too.

"I'll go with you," he said. "Get home to the boss."

We were outside, turning the corner into the parking lot and heading toward my car, when the idea of a Spring cookout came into my head.

"Any plans this weekend?" I said.

"You know," he said, "same old-- "

His words were lost in a sudden, searing pain in my back and deep into my chest while something pushed me forward and to the ground.

"What the fuck," I said, seeing the ground rise up to meet my face. I could sense something, someone, behind me. Hot breath on the back of my neck and a hand on my left shoulder, pushing it forward as whatever was causing the searing pain in my back was withdrawn, leaving a deep, empty ache.

Everything after I hit the ground was a blur of noise, movement, screaming, and pain.

"You fucker," I heard Lonnie Mackie screaming.

There was a crunch, and the weight was off my back as something fell to my left.

Someone said to call an ambulance.

And call cops.

I tried to talk, but no words came out as everything started getting weird, dizzy.

Then feet, a lot of feet, were running all around me. I felt them on the blacktop parking lot and heard them near my head. The images were going blurry, though.

Sirens started in, then I heard a loud scream. A wailing scream. Nicole begging me to be alive.

I am alive, I tried to tell her, but I didn't hear anything come out.

My mouth just kept moving noiselessly while everything else got darker.

THIRTY-THREE

My other senses worked first. I felt the crappy, scratchy sheets encasing my body. My mouth was impossibly dry, my tongue cracked, and I tasted the worse morning breath in history, morning breath so bad it almost blocked out the antiseptic smell of the room. I didn't open my eyes until I heard the click clack of shoes on the tile floor.

"Good," a stout, middle-aged nurse announced. "You're awake."

"How long have I been here?" I asked, my eyes sweeping the three-walled room. The fourth side was open to a bank of nursing stations. Intensive care unit. I'd been here once before, when Aunt Aileen was dying.

"It's Sunday morning," she said, picking up a chart. "And you were admitted after surgery at about eleven on Friday."

"Surgery?" I said. The dull ache in my chest and the itching on my back, just below the scapula, reminded me that something had happened on Friday night. Still, I had no idea what had happened.

"The doctor will be by in awhile," she said, ignoring my question and walking out of the room.

I heard a faint rustling to the right of my head and tried to turn and see who was there.

"Hello?" I said when the person said nothing.

In response, I heard the sniffling of tears.

"Nicole?" I said.

"You had us so worried."

"Nina?"

She was in front of me now, looking down at me with tears running down the face that was smiling in relief.

"What are you doing here? What happened?"

"I work here," she said. "Some friends called me the second you were brought in. I agreed to take turns with the others babysitting you."

"The others?"

"Nicole, Jack, that great big guy from the bar. Larry."

"Lonnie," I corrected. "Where are they?"

"Nicole will probably be here soon. She and Jack ran to the restaurant to get things set up, then she's coming back."

I was a little disappointed. Somehow I pictured her holding bedside vigil.

Nina saw the look on my face and read it accurately. Can't slip shit like that past someone you've lived with for four years.

"Don't be upset," she said. "They left about three hours ago, and it's the first time she's gotten out of here since you were brought in. She needed a bath, some clean clothes, and to help Jack get the kitchen set up."

I nodded.

"So what happened? Why am I here?"

"You were stabbed leaving work," she said, surprised I didn't know. "Someone you threw in jail a week or so ago. Nicole's ex-boyfriend?"

I nodded. Randy. He'd finally bailed his sorry ass out and decided to kill me for the inconvenience I'd helped impose on his life.

"How bad is it?"

"Touch and go for awhile. You lost a lot of blood. The knife nicked some ribs on its way to your right lung. The lung collapsed, which led to the surgery."

"Recovery?"

"Barring infection, you should be up and at 'em in a couple of weeks. The musculature in your back, which is also stitched up, will be pretty sore for awhile longer. So will the bones that got cut. But you should be good as new in no time."

I nodded, exhaustion beginning to cascade over me.

"And Nicole? She's all right?"

I saw a flicker of disappointment play across Nina's lips, but she kept up the facade for me. "She's scared, Tim. And tired."

I tried to smile, but I'm pretty sure the effort was wasted.

"Tell her I'm fine, okay?"

I didn't hear her response before sleep overtook me again.

The next thing I remember was voices. Jammer and Nicole, chatting softly.

"It's not your fault, Nic," Jammer said.

"I was afraid Randy would try something like this," she said, her voice weary. "I should've stayed away. Taken Alistair and just moved."

"Don't say that," Jammer reassured her. "He loves you. Trust me. I've known him since we were knee high to a frog's ass, and I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Jenny included, and he had the biggest crush on her since kindergarten."

"Why would I be mad?" I croaked, my throat hurting with the effort.

I felt Nicole's hands on my forearm in an instant, her warm breath on my face.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. "Don't cry, little girl."

She was torn between trying to smile for me and trying to hold back her tears.

"It's gonna take a bigger prick than Randy to get me out of your life."

"Told you so," Jammer said from behind her.

"He's right," I continued, the pain searing my throat.

I coughed. To my left, a nurse hustled in.

"Good," she again announced. "He's awake. Give him some of these."

She pushed a glass and a spoon into Nicole's hands before picking up the chart and taking writing down a bunch of stuff from the machines surrounding me.

"Open up," Nicole said, pressing the spoon against my lips. Ice. Who ever knew a chip of ice could be so goddamned good? It melted against my tongue, coating my mouth and throat as it slid down. I opened my mouth again, and another chip was dropped in. After five minutes of this, I felt well enough to talk again.

"What happened to Randy?" I asked.

"He's in jail," Jammer said. "They're gonna resist bail this time. The State, that is. The judge will probably go along with it since he was out on bail when he attacked you."

"He just stabbed me once?"

Nicole smiled. "Lonnie Mackie knocked him out cold."

"Yeah," Jammer added. "One punch to the side of the head and he was out like a fuckin' light bulb."

"He says you owe him two gift certificates now," Nicole said. "Not just the one like last time."

"Tell him he can have three," I said.

"I heard that," Lonnie said, shuffling in with his wife and three little kids in tow. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine," I said. "Thanks to you, I'm told."

"Little prick," Lonnie said. "Should've killed the bastard the first time."

"Lonigan Marvin Mackie," his wife said, "the children."

I chuckled, then coughed.

"Don't get him excited," the nurse warned. "We need those stitches in his lung to do their job."

"Thanks, Lonnie," I said.

He seemed all sheepish, like it was no big deal. His wife, though, was proud of him. It was written all over her face and the way she clung to his arm and looked at him. Even when she'd corrected his language, she was almost playful about it.

"You okay?" I said, turning my attention back to Nicole.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. At least he's gone for good now, right?"

She nodded, brushing away tears. I tried to reach up and help her, but the lines running in my arms wouldn't let me.

"Hey, really, you need to settle down," I tried to reassure her.

She nodded, trying to smile.

"Just stay the hell away from Jammer until I'm out of here, okay? He's pretty well known for taking advantage of these things."

"Hey," Jammer protested, but I didn't hear the rest of what he said. All I heard were Nicole's words before I again fell asleep.

"I love you so much, Timothy Franklin. So much."

THIRTY-FOUR

Three weeks later, I was at home, cooking tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for Alistair and me. Alistair and Ernie were sitting on the sofa, watching some kid's show on public television, when the doorbell sounded.

"Police man," Alistair yelled.

I was surprised. Police? Then I was worried; had something happened to Nicole?

I turned off the stovetop and went to the front door.

"Hey, Mike," I said, opening the door for Sgt. Moss.

"Can you come out here for a sec?" he said, his eyes shooting to Alistair.

I felt a pit in my stomach.

"Is Nicole okay?" I said, stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind me.

"She's fine," he said. His jaw was chewing gum about a mile a minute.

"What's wrong?"

"Just got back from county," he said. "Something's come up and I wanted to let you know on my way back to town. Before it gets out and all."

"Okay," I agreed. "What's up?"

"It came up right after the assault on you," he said. "I was in court a few days later, for the arraignment. A cop from Frontier City was there for a case he had. We got to talking, what we were there for and all. I told him about you, how you were attacked."

I nodded. So?

"Anyway, the whole Randy and Nicole thing rang a bell with him. Later, that afternoon, he calls me. Randy was a suspect in the murder of Nicole's husband. He was stabbed outside of his workplace a few years back."

"Yeah," I said, now seeing where this was going.

"So they sent some detectives over the next day, Tuesday after you were stabbed. Gave us a lot of their stuff on the murder." His jaw tightened. "We'd have never done it, see? Tested the knife or anything. I mean, hell, we had him at the scene with witnesses and his hand on the knife. No need to test the knife for blood, okay?"

I saw it, saw where this was going. "Alistair's blood was on the knife, wasn't it?"

Moss nodded. "Up inside the handle. Probably would've never still been there, except he used a folding knife. Stupid fucker. And used the same knife in his attack on you."

"So you guys charging him on that one?"

Moss smiled. "Already done. That's what we were finishing up this morning. I started the interrogation--stupid fucker even had a lawyer, but she didn't see this coming--and the Frontier City guys sit down and pull out all the paperwork and lab tests and shit. They even found Alistair's blood in his car and apartment. Laundry room carpet. They zeroed right in. Got him to say that no, he didn't even know Alistair before he died; no, Alistair had never been in his car. Or his apartment. Then they put all of that in front of him and he just exploded. Before the attorney could even shut him up, he's screaming about how Alistair had it coming and he wasn't man enough for a woman like Nicole and all that."

He smiled, but his smile looked weary, like it had been a long morning. "He'll die in prison, Tim. So I wanted to tell you that and maybe hoped you'd tell Nicole, too. It'd be easier coming from you, right?"

"Sure," I agreed, not really wanting to tell her.

When she breezed in that night, the look on my face pulled her up before she could plant a kiss on my cheek.

"What's wrong?"

"Come on," I said, walking into the dining room away from Alistair.

We sat at the table, her next to me and our knees touching while I held her hands. And I told her.

She cried. Cried for her poor dead husband, for the father her son would never know, for the fates that had foisted Randy into their lives without her even knowing what was happening, for the tear at the scab in her heart that had only so recently healed.

I held her, telling her everything would be all right. I'd been there too, though, and I knew it would take a long time for this to all get better again. If ever it did.

THIRTY-FIVE

Three days later, on a Saturday morning, the three of us were sitting around the dining room table eating our stuffed French Toast. (Try this: Take a block of softened cream cheese whipped together with some vanilla and confectioner's sugar, stir in a handful of chocolate chips, then spread it between two pieces of good white bread. Dip it into your typical eggy french toast batter and cook it on a buttered griddle. Trust me, it's beyond incredibly good!)

"Mommy," Alistair said with a mouthful of food.

"Don't talk with your-- "

"Are you almost done being sad?" he said, ignoring her reprimand.

She looked at him, then at me. Her face had been a mask of anguish or sadness since I'd told her about Randy killing Alistair. Now, for the first time, I saw something else seeping in.

"Because I really want to go to the zoo today, Mommy," Alistair plodded on. "And I don't really want to go if you're going to be sad anymore."

"Mommy's just-- "

"Do you love me?" he said.

"Of course I love you." She was taken back at the little tyke's verbal barrage.

"And Tim? Do you love Tim, too?"

She nodded, looking at me with tears welling up in her eyes.

"And Ernie?"

She looked at the lovable mug of the begging pug sitting at her feet and laughed.

"Especially Ernie," she said. Her glistening eyes warmed, and her tears seemed to be tears of relief and--almost--happiness. And maybe the realization that Alistair had died three years ago, and she now had a new family that could again give her happiness. Okay, maybe I'd just like to take a touch of credit here.

"Then don't be sad anymore," Alistair said. "Ernie thinks you're mad at him."

She reached down and scratched behind Ernie's ears. "I'm sorry, Ernie."

"See? Now we can go to the zoo."

With that, Alistair was done saying his piece.

Of course, I'd like to tell you that this got Nicole out of her funk like a bolt of lightning, but that would be bullshit. She did try to be happy, though, and I'm pretty sure that's the best way to get over being unhappy.

We can all feel sorry for ourselves and the shit sandwich that this thing called life serves us sometimes. But, like Uncle Jack always says, "The true measure of a man is not the heights he rises to, but how well he picks himself up after being knocked on his ass."

It seems Alistair's little diatribe had shaken this reality into Nicole. So, little by little, she started picking herself up. I could see she wasn't totally out of the woods yet, but she at least tried to smile and give hugs whenever Alistair and I were around. Ernie appreciated her more frequent ear and belly scratching, too.

Then, one Tuesday night when I was at home babysitting Alistair, Nicole came in late and awoke me with a camera flash.

"What?" I said, lifting my head from the couch and reaching for the remote to turn down the television while I focused my sleepy eyes on her.

"You've got to see this," she said, her smile ear to ear.

She handed me the camera, and I turned it around to look at the picture.

There I was, zonked out on the couch. Alistair was sound asleep, too, stretched the length of my torso with his cheek on my chest. Protecting us both was Ernie, laying at the top of my head with his neck and fore paws curled around my neck and his black muzzle almost nose to nose with Alistair.

"My three princes," Nicole said, chuckling at the thought. "All cuddled together."

Sure, the picture was cute. But cuter, and far better, was the look of genuine happiness on Nicole's face. It was a look we hadn't seen in some time, and I felt myself relaxing.

"You better now?" I said.

She nodded. "Yeah. Way better."

"I love you," I said, sitting up and scooping Alistair into my arms for a trip to his bedroom.

Her eyes were welling up. "I love you more."

She was the first woman who had ever said that to me and looked like she meant it.

THIRTY-SIX

Well, not much more to tell, really.

Nicole and I were married three months later.

Lonnie Mackie, Uncle Jack, and Jammer stood up for me in the simple ceremony. I tried to pick a best man, but gave up after deciding they had all helped to get me where I was.

Jenny, Gertie, and Clara stood up for Nicole. Again, they'd all played their part, and none was the maid of honor.

Alistair looked cute as a bug in his little tuxedo, striding down the aisle with Ernie prancing along beside him bearing a pillow holding the rings. Okay, Ernie tried to mark his territory in the vestibule, but a slap from Sgt. Moss stopped that.

On our honeymoon, Nicole gave me that fantasy she'd been curious to try. What can I say? Fucking amazing pretty much sums it up. Just make sure you go real, real, real slow and use lots and lots and lots of lube. By the third time, she assured me she likes it, too.

Randy got sixty years for killing Alistair and another twenty-two for trying to kill me. The sentences run concurrently, so he'll be about a hundred before he gets out. Good luck, prick.

Nina? Not a clue. She drops by the Bar and Grill every so often with some other nurses, but we don't talk much. I know she tried making a run at Jammer, but he and Jenny seem to be getting real serious, so it didn't go anywhere.

Everyone else seems to be pretty much the same. Uncle Jack is still going strong, as are Clara and Gertie and the gang.

"You happy?" Nicole said to me one night.