Irwin continued eating.
“I’m sorry to the both of you too,” said Harper, eyes watery.
“Oh, poo,” said Cornelia. “That’s life. Things like this happen. Right, Irwin?”
Irwin grunted.
“Ignore him. We were more than happy to help,” Cornelia added, reaching across the table to give Olivia’s hand a gentle squeeze.
Irwin took a final swing from his cup and started to clear his spot.
“Leave that, Irwin. We’ll take care of everything,” said Cornelia. “Why don’t you try to grab some rest?”
Harper tilted her head, remembering today was Friday—his Gilly-Dakota visit day—but kept it to herself.
Irwin pushed his chair in, gave a slight nod to all, and headed into his den.
“We should really be going soon too,” said Olivia. “Harper. Let’s help Miss Cornelia clean up.”
Harper stood and gathered the plates and silverware. “Do you have work today?” she asked her mom.
“No, I called in sick. I didn’t know when you’d turn up.”
Harper flinched.
Olivia snapped her fingers. “Shoot. I better call the police and tell them we found you.”
“The school too,” reminded Harper meekly.
Exasperated, Olivia merely nodded. “That too. Excuse me for a moment,” she said to Cornelia, stepping outside on the stoop to make her calls.
Harper felt terrible for all the inconvenience she had caused everybody, not to mention her mom losing out on part of her paycheck. Money they depended on.
“Harper,” Cornelia whispered, leaning in. “Sit for a minute,” she said, tapping the chair next to her. “I want to ask for a favor.”
Harper sat down and leaned in to hear Cornelia better.
“If you and your mom wouldn’t mind staying a bit longer, I’d really appreciate it. Irwin’s gotten some terrible news today, and I don’t want him left alone.”
Harper’s mind went straight to Dakota, but before she asked, her mother returned.
“Ready?” asked Olivia to Harper.
“Ma, uh, Miss Cornelia was just asking if we could stay a little longer. She needs our help.”
“Of course.” Olivia sat back down. “What can we do?”
“Well,” said Cornelia, “I was just telling Harper that Irwin’s got some awful news today. Heartbreaking, actually. Somebody he cared strongly for passed away this morning.”
“Oh, no,” chorused Olivia and Harper.
“Yes. Irwin’s pretty heartbroken about it.”
“That’s so sad,” said Olivia softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Harper looked pleadingly at her mother.
“If you’re sure we’re not in the way,” said Olivia.
“In the way? Oh, no, darlin’. You and Harper are just what the doctor ordered,” insisted Cornelia. “I’d like to pop out for a bit and do some shopping. Fill his pantry up, so he doesn’t have to go out if he’s not up to it for a while.”
“Of course,” agreed Olivia.
“But doesn’t Irwin need to go to the cemetery later?” asked Harper.
Oops.
Cornelia nodded. “Ah, so you know about that, do you?”
“About what?” whispered Olivia, now leaning in closer to the conspiring pair, looking back and forth between the two.
Cornelia lifted a finger indicating she needed a sec, then she tiptoed into the next room to check on Irwin. “He’s fast asleep,” she whispered, taking her seat. She crooked her finger for Harper and Olivia to lean in again and began to tell Irwin’s story.
“So, here’s the thing…”
An hour and a half later, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, including Irwin’s, who overheard every word from the next room.
***
Irwin
Irwin suspected the Three Musketeers would take his absence as an opportunity to yak about him. Cornelia thought she was so slick. Little did she realize what a heavy footstep she had or how her operatic voice carried. Great for the stage, not so much when playing snoop.
However, Irwin must have drifted off for at least a short time because when he awoke, he found Harper curled up on the sofa, reading. Bones nestled by her feet, licking his paws. A delicious aroma emanated from the kitchen. If he had to guess, he’d put his money down on a stew.
Irwin stretched to lower his feet from the recliner when he realized somebody had placed a blanket over his lap.
Harper glanced up and smiled.
“You’re still here?” he said. “Don’t you have a home?”
“Did you have a good nap?”
“What time is it?”
“Are we playing one hundred questions?”
Irwin smiled. She was quick. He admired that.
Harper closed her book and slipped her feet from underneath Bones. “Can I use your phone?”
“What for?”
She stood. “Cornelia said to let her know when you woke up.”
“Pardon me?”
“That’s what she said.”
Irwin grimaced. He hated when Cornelia played babysitter. “Where is Cornelia now?”
“With Mom.”
Irwin closed his eyes and drew in a long, tortured breath. “And where is your mom?”
Harper hesitated. “I’m not allowed to say.”
Irwin opened his eyes.
“And why not?”
Harper shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“They threatened me.”
“I’m threatening you now.”
“No offense, Irwin, but I’m more afraid of them than you.”
Just then, the door in the kitchen thankfully opened and the sound of two chatty women emerged. “We’re home,” piped Cornelia behind a rustle of bags.
Harper whizzed past Irwin. “I didn’t tell him anything,” she told the two women.
“Here, grab this while I help empty the trunk,” instructed Olivia, handing Harper two bags.
“What is all of this?” Irwin asked in vain. He leaned on the counter, too drained to protest. Bones, a creature of comfort, sashayed near his feet. With outstretched paws, he then demandingly nudged Irwin with his head, rubbed his pant leg, then arched his furry, slick back.
“What could you possibly want now?” Irwin asked the feline albatross.
“I’ll feed him,” said Harper cheerily. “Come, Bones. Auntie Harper’s gotcha.”
Auntie Harper?
Everything was moving too fast for Irwin to keep up.
Olivia and Cornelia reappeared a moment later carrying a few more bags, a box from the bakery, and a large, elegant wreath and stand.
“What is all this?” asked Irwin.
“Rose sends her condolences,” said Cornelia.
There was another knock at the side door and a head popped in. “Hey, anybody here?” called out the head. Roger’s head. “Hey, Cornelia, where do you want me to put the table?”
“The table?” asked Irwin. “What table?”
“Hey, Irwin,” said Regan, trailing after Roger. “Where should I put this?” she asked Irwin, referring to the two trays of food in her arms.
“I have no idea what this even is!” he snapped. “Cornelia!”
“Stop all that shouting,” Cornelia chastised Irwin. “I’ll take that, dear,” she said sweetly to Regan.
Irwin stood frozen in place, watching his home fill with more people, lots more flowers, and tons of food. He eventually managed to corner Cornelia and drag her to the side.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked, apparently unable to process. “Why are all these people in my house?”
“I thought that would have been obvious,” she said. “For such a smart man, you can be such a dunce sometimes, you know that?” She gently rubbed his arm. “Now, please, don’t be difficult for once in your ornery life and go upstairs and get ready.”
“Get ready for what?”
Corne
lia rolled her eyes and puffed out her cheeks. “Dakota’s memorial service, you big dope.”
“But how? Her father—”
“Forget him. Dakota is with us in spirit, and that’s all that counts.”
Irwin shook his head. “I’m not sure we should be doing this,” he protested.
“Oh, nonsense. Of course we should, and we are.” Cornelia clasped both of Irwin’s shaky hands in hers. “Listen, Irwin,” she said softly. “Dakota was as much your daughter as Stupid Stanley’s. In my opinion, more yours. And as her father, you need, no, scratch that. We all need to give her a proper send off. Then, when we’re done, we’ll head to the cemetery to lay Dakota’s wreath next to Gilly where it belongs.” She paused, his hands still gripped in hers. “Now please, Irwin, go get yourself ready. Your dark suit is hanging up on the back of your door.”
“Which one?”
“The dark navy blue one. Gilly always liked that one on you.”
Irwin glanced at everyone doing this and that in the kitchen. What before had been overwhelming noise now reached his ears as merely sound. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, not entirely sure what just happened, but somehow, in all its confusion and perplexity, everything felt perfectly imperfect.
***
News of Dakota’s passing quickly made the rounds. For the next few hours, Irwin’s home filled and filtered more people than he’d ever imagined possible, all coming to share stories of Dakota and to pay their last respects. A large procession of Dakota’s school friends, teammates, coaches, and teachers also came to say goodbye. They presented Irwin with Dakota’s team shirt and signed yearbook.
Most of the library staff showed up in shifts, including Janice, who brought with her a large tray of deli and bagels along with a stack of books, all on mourning and grief. One book dealt explicitly with the importance of maintaining hope to cope during the loss of a child.
Dr. Rollins and a few of Dakota’s nurses also managed to make it in time for the service. It touched Irwin how they held on to one another, shoulder to shoulder, as if the moment one moved, the rest, like dominos, would scatter. At other times, he noticed they would hold one another in warm and supportive embraces, their hands interlocked. These weren’t just Dakota’s doctors and nurses, but extended family…her protective angels.
The table Roger brought, now covered in a baroque tablecloth, held a lovely collection of framed photos of a smiling, beautiful, and full of life Dakota. Irwin recognized most of the pictures, but a couple were new. A small wicker basket at the end of the table overflowed with condolence cards, while flowers of soft pink with hints of white hue filled every vase and glass container Irwin owned.
Cornelia, Olivia, and Harper had organized and hosted the memorial to perfection, each exceptionally lovely in their dark dresses. However, much to Irwin’s mortification, Harper had insisted on wearing her work boots underneath hers. Supposedly, that was the style. Irwin cringed.
On what planet?
The following day, a small blurb appeared in the local paper recounting not only Dakota’s passing but Gilly’s as well. A short but thoughtful article concisely highlighted their much too short lives, expounding on the enormous impact each had made on those left behind.
By week’s end, word eventually trickled back to Irwin that Dakota’s father had come to claim his daughter’s body. And, as assumed, the selfish bastard instructed the hospital to release Dakota’s body only to the funeral home he chose instead of letting her rest at peace next to her mother for eternity. Irwin mourned for Gilly. He had held out hope against hope that Stanley would eventually do the right thing for once. He should have known better.
Nevertheless, that evening, as Irwin laid in the dark, he felt calm…finally at peace knowing that those who had truly loved Gilly and Dakota in life had sought fit to celebrate them instead of lamenting. Voice after voice spoke of the many ways they had each touched hearts.
Perhaps, wondered Irwin, his eyes heavy, ready to sleep, that’s all anyone can honestly ask for.
CHAPTER 14
Darren
York’s visit had come as a complete shock. Darren couldn’t imagine why or how his old celly found him, but he didn’t care.
“York! I can’t believe it! You’re still an ugly bastard! How are you?” laughed Darren. “What the hell are you doing here?” he shouted, rushing down the stairs to give the big man a bear hug. “You look great,” he said, clapping York on the arm and vigorously pumping his hand.
York did, in fact, look mighty sharp. He stood tall, decked out in a pricey three-piece suit, fresh buzz cut, and carrying an expensive-looking leather briefcase.
“Thanks, man,” cheesed York.
“How the hell did you find me?” asked Darren, mouth agape.
“Grapevine.” York shrugged. “You know how it is. Don’t let anyone tell you different, the biggest gossipers are inside. Can’t keep nothing a secret.” The two men shared a knowing laugh.
“So, what can I do for you?” asked Darren, a bit self-consciously, dressed in his drab attire.
“Actually, I’m here to do something for you. That is, if you’re interested.”
“For me?” Darren pointed to his chest. “Like what?”
“Like a J-O-B.”
Darren tilted his head to the side. “You’re offering me a job?” he asked, somewhat stupefied. Inside he’d heard York talk about going into business for himself but, at the time, didn’t put stock in it. Inmates were forever talking about their grandiose plans. Follow through? Not so much. “Doing what?”
“Why you look all shocked? I told you I was going to open a restaurant over two years ago. Thought I was joking?” York laughed. “Me and my brother-in-law went into business together.”
Smiling, Darren shook his head. “That’s incredible, man. I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why I’m here. We’re looking for kitchen help.”
Darren threw back his head and laughed. “A chef? I can’t cook, man.”
York shook his head. “No, not a chef. I’m the chef,” he said, thumping his chest. “With food prep and clean-up. We’ll pay minimum wage to start, and then once your sorry ass passes a probationary period, we’ll adjust your income.”
“You’re serious?”
“Do I look like I do stand-up?”
“He’ll take it,” bellowed Jay, emerging from of his office. “When does he start?”
“York, this is Jay,” said Darren. “He runs the place. Jay, this is York, my former, um—”
York reached out to shake Jay’s hand. “Clifton York. Darren’s former cellmate.”
“Former, huh? Still on probation?” asked Jay. Although state-specific, general conditions usually prohibited a parolee from fraternizing with anyone previously convicted of a crime. Most of the time, however, the final decision was left to the discretion of individual Parole Officers.
“No, sir. Free and clear. All legit.” York handed Jay his business card.
“Oh, The Insider, on eighth and Main? Great name. I get the reference.”
“We like to hire guys trying to do right on the outside.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Jay, pocketing the card. “I hear the food’s great.”
“You heard correctly. Best seafood in the Poconos,” spouted York. “Why don’t you stop by for lunch one of these days? My treat.”
Jay pumped York’s hand. “Sounds great. I think I’ll take you up on that.” Jay glanced at Darren. “When do you want this guy to start?” he asked York.
“Tomorrow works. We typically open at one, but we prefer our support staff by eleven.”
“Eleven it is,” said Jay. “Got that, Crane?”
“Got it,” said Darren, grateful for the job.
***
The first week at the new job had been rougher than Darren anticipated. It had been a long time since he’d held a full-time job, and he felt nervous. Worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure, troubled his
old yearnings and past haunts would pull him back into the drug life again.
In more ways than one, life outside the prison had been a culture shock. At least inside, behind bars, he knew how things worked and what to expect. From the time Darren woke until lights out, all decisions were made for him. And while the food sucked, at least he ate. Even the cement roof over his head was guaranteed. Now, that burden fell on his not-so-ready shoulders. With Olivia not answering her phone, and the days of his stay at the halfway house winding down, the pressure to do something magnified.
Unlike York, who had been a chef before going to prison, Darren had no previous skills to lean on. Had it not been for York stepping up, his work prospects looked bleak. As Darren strolled to work, he reflected on the long list of poor choices he’d made. A fresh start was all he needed to get grounded again, he told himself, and perhaps if he worked hard enough, he could prove to Olivia that he changed. Show her that he could contribute to the household. Be a father to Harper. Darren shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. For now, the most he could hope for from Olivia was for her to let him come back home. The rest, hopefully, would come in time.
Everyone in the restaurant gave it their all. Darren watched them with curiosity. He respected their dedication. The way everyone seemed to move seamlessly through their responsibilities and tasks, often joking around, but getting the job done right. On the other hand, he spent most of his long shift nervous, hyper-vigilant, quiet. Never quite sure of himself. At times embarrassed by his lack of basic experience. He listened to them talk politics, compare histories, and discuss music. He often wondered what lives they led at home. If they had families, children, a wife, or a lover waiting for them to return at night. Somebody to confide in. Sometime to remind them that everything was going to be okay. Maybe they were that person, the okay person. The one to make things right. Darren wanted to be that person for somebody.
The prison had offered Darren entrepreneurship and business training before release, but he had turned it down. In hindsight, another one of his big mistakes. Without a doubt, it would have helped him to prepare better and move forward, acquiring the necessary skills to get and keep a job, but most of all, teach him to hold the insecurity that plagued him at arm’s length.
Unlikely Friends Page 14
