Unlikely Friends

by Sahar Abdulaziz

  Irwin tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “But the common denominator is they are people.”

  “Cornelia.”

  “Wait, hear me out. Unlike the library, where you’re practically a fixture, as a business owner, you won’t be able to insult, offend, or curse at your customers. I mean, you could, but it won’t end well. You do comprehend this concept, don’t you?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Cornelia.”

  “Certainly not, but you are a bit of a…”

  Irwin, with a twinkle in his eye, leaned forward again. “A what?” he goaded.

  Cornelia grinned. “A bit of a curmudgeon.”

  Irwin nodded. “A bit.”

  “And a killjoy.”

  “A killjoy as well?” he teased.

  “And one hell of a sourpuss. Admit it, Irwin, you do tend to get a bit standoffish at times.”

  Irwin snorted.

  “See? That’s exactly what I mean. You can’t act like that around potential customers.”

  Irwin stood. “Although I find your description of me wanting, I do concede to the fact that human interaction isn’t one of my stronger suits.”

  This time, Cornelia snorted. “You can say that again.”

  “And because of this slight imperfection—”

  “Slight imperfection my arse.”

  “—I have come up with a plan,” said Irwin louder.

  “A plan?” Now Cornelia crossed her arms over her chest. “This should be good.”

  “More of a solution, actually. And one I hope will help solve a few other outstanding issues as well.”

  “Ah, yes. Other outstanding issues,” agreed Cornelia. “I know them well.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What do you mean by that?” countered Cornelia.

  “Cornelia!”

  “Irwin!”

  The two stared at one another, marking their territory.

  Cornelia squinted at Irwin. “It means we need to talk about something important and it can’t wait.”

  Irwin’s face grew taut with trepidation. “Go ahead,” he said, returning to his seat.

  Cornelia drew a deep breath before her thoughts tumbled forth in a torrent. “Harper came to see me this morning. Crying.” Cornelia glared pleadingly into Irwin’s eyes, enunciating each of her words. “She told me that she and her mom are getting evicted. She only found out this morning when she saw the notice sticking out of her mother’s sweater. In my opinion, Olivia was probably trying to protect Harper until she could find the right time to tell her, but of course, Harper being a typical teenager automatically jumped to the conclusion that her mother must be hiding something.”

  Irwin lifted a finger as if to say something.

  “Wait, there’s more,” said Cornelia. “Not only that, but Harper’s convinced they’ll wind up in some homeless shelter.”

  “And that’s why—”

  “Hold on, let me finish. If they have to move, Harper won’t be able to graduate from her high school if her mom can’t find them an affordable apartment in the same district.” Cornelia rested her hand on the table. “She’s terrified, Irwin.”

  Irwin laid his hand gently over Cornelia’s. “I already know,” he murmured softly.

  “You already know what? Which part?” complained Cornelia, ready to pounce. “And you said nothing to me?”

  “I just found out myself.”

  “Likely story.” Cornelia winced, more because she hadn’t come clean with her news. Here she was accusing Irwin of the same thing she was guilty of doing, but finding the time to tell him hadn’t been easy.

  “But in this case, a true one. I saw Harper at the cemetery this afternoon.”

  “At the cemetery? You took her with you?”

  “No. She was already there when I arrived. I found her talking to Gilly.”

  “Go on.”

  “And I kind of overheard what she said.”

  Cornelia’s eyes widened. “You were spying on her?”

  “No…okay, maybe, yes…a little, but the point is, I know.”

  Cornelia leaned back in her chair, gaping at Irwin with newfound admiration. “You sneaky old reprobate—”

  Irwin grinned.

  “Always the first one to act as if you couldn’t care about anybody, but all along…” Cornelia playfully wagged her finger in his face.

  Irwin pretended offense, but Cornelia caught a slight jiggle of his brow. “But don’t say anything yet,” he warned.

  “Oh, no worries. Your ill-gotten secret’s safe with me.”

  I probably won’t remember it anyway.

  For the longest time, Cornelia opted to ignore the symptoms. She chalked up her wonky memory lapses and growing impatience to getting old. But soon the increased forgetfulness, the lack of recollection, the loss of taste and smell, and most recently, her personality changes had turned profuse. On top of that, never before had she been so easily aggravated.

  But what really convinced her to seek help was when she woke up in her car early one morning fully dressed in her clothes from the day before. That’s when she panicked and made an appointment with her general practitioner.

  The doctor ordered a slew of tests. As Cornelia waited anxiously for the results, her emotions collided, spilling out over here and there. Everything from fear to denial, anger to grief. When the diagnosis finally came, she thought she’d be prepared. But who the hell is ever prepared for Alzheimer’s?

  Like so many who heard the devastating news for the first time, Cornelia left the doctor’s office clutching her bag, now filled with a prescription, a few brochures, and her appointment card for her next follow-up. She had sat in her car paralyzed with fear, too scared to turn it on. Too frightened to know what to do next.

  In a hazy daze, she had somehow driven home. Once parked, she had stumbled over to Irwin’s in desperate need of a shoulder to cry on, but her timing couldn’t have been worse since that had also been the day Dakota died. Cornelia didn’t have the heart to dump one more mega-sized burden on Irwin’s already crumbling shoulders.

  Overwhelmed by how her life had already started to change, she clung to what she knew. Denial. For Cornelia, who had been highly independent all her life, denial seemed like a good choice since it seemed impossible to comprehend the enormity of what she would inevitably face.

  Coming to terms and moving forward with her newly disclosed diagnosis had been difficult, especially as her symptoms began to reveal themselves in more visible and insidious ways. It was only a matter of time before Irwin figured it out, time she didn’t control nor have much left of. She feared how this would affect Irwin. There was a sense of loss, an overriding resentment that this monster had selected her brain to attack.

  Eventually, she had come to accept her diagnosis. With Irwin, Harper, and Olivia, Cornelia was determined to live her life in a positive and fulfilling way, but there was no denying how much everything would drastically change as a result. But despite feeling overcome by the roller coaster of emotions, she held it together in the only way she knew how—in helping others. And it worked. For a bit. But since then, she had cried herself to sleep every night.

  CHAPTER 18

  Irwin

  Irwin twitched in his seat, feeling inexplicably nervous under the barrage of inquisitive glares coming from the men who passed him as he waited, sitting on a hall bench. A few offered him an indifferent quipped “hello,” while most barely acknowledged his existence.

  The halfway house seemed brighter inside, more inviting than Irwin had assumed. However, the air transmitted an institutional odor. Or perhaps he was just smelling somebody’s overzealous use of bleach.

  Irwin sat erect, his hat resting on his lap. He shifted and stretched his foot, which had begun to fall asleep. The unease of seeing this cockamamie plan of his through had made sound sleep nearly impossible. For the last few nights, he’d toss and turn until eventually dozing off about three hours before hav
ing to wake back up.

  Irwin heard the echo of a set of heavy footsteps pummeling down the stairs.

  As soon as Darren turned the corner and saw Irwin, he groaned.

  “Ugh, not you again,” Darren grumbled. “What’s with you and coming here? You know, this could be construed as a form of stalking.”

  Irwin stood, refusing to swap banalities. “Have you thought about what we discussed at our last meeting?” he asked, voice resolute.

  “Yeah.” Darren locked eyes on Irwin. “I gave it some consideration.”

  Irwin’s eyes remained fixed on Darren’s face. “And what have you decided?”

  Darren leaned back on the wall. He crossed his arms over his puffed chest. “Before I say anything, I need to know why you’re doing this.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “What’s in it for you?”

  Impervious, Irwin stepped closer, his weary eyes locked ominously onto Darren’s.

  “Mr. Crane, I am not here to debate my motivations. As I explained to you before, if you intend on being a positive influence in Harper’s life, then you are welcome. And I will do everything in my power to help make that happen. However, should you decide to leave, I will not stop you, but either way, you decide. Harper has the right to know where you stand.”

  “Yeah. I’m not an idiot. That part I get, but you haven’t told me what’s in it for you. What’s with all the super protective stuff towards my kid?”

  “Fair enough.” Irwin clasped his hands in front of his body. His shoulders remained stiff. “I have never had children of my own, but I’ve seen what happens when they’ve been neglected and abandoned. I’ve seen promising young lives dissolve under the angst of believing they are unwanted. I watched families torn apart and forever impaired because of one person’s self-centeredness. Mr. Crane, Harper is smart, talented. She has succeeded in becoming an exceptionally good person despite the less than affable hand she’s been dealt. I, for one, will not sit idly by and watch you unravel your daughter’s questionable stability more than you have already.” Irwin narrowed his eyes. “Be in her life, Mr. Crane. She needs a father. But if you can’t and decide to disappear, then do it now before you cause further irreparable damage and heartbreak.”

  Darren glared, ready to bolt. “And let’s say I decide to stick around. Are you really going to help me out or was that all talk? I mean, you’re not pulling my chain, right? Because if I find out you are…”

  Irwin took a step closer. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Crane. I am a man of my word. You, on the other hand, have a dubious relationship with the truth. Which begs the question…it’s not whether I will follow through, but will you?”

  ***

  Darren

  Darren found York bent over in the back room, sifting through boxes, handling inventory.

  “Well, it’s about time you showed up,” York said.

  “Sorry.” Darren washed his hands and changed into his apron. He lifted a cardboard box of tomatoes and brought them over to York.

  “Just put it down over there,” directed York, counting. Darren dropped the box.

  “Hey! Careful with that,” reprimanded York. “That food.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re playing that now?”

  Darren shrugged. “I’m not playing anything. I just have a lot on my mind is all.”

  York tilted his head. “Your parole babysitter called me,” said York, unprompted. “Said he wanted an update on your progress.”

  Darren waited. “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him the truth. That you’ve been, for the most part, pretty unremarkable.”

  Darren blanched.

  York glanced up and caught Darren’s dire expression. “Chill, man. I’m only messing with you,” he said and winked

  Darren’s shoulders relaxed. “You had me going there for a minute.” Darren gripped his waist, bowed his head. “Don’t do that. I got enough shit to contend with without you busting my balls.”

  York lifted a small crate of onions and handed them off to Darren. “Speaking of ball busting, how’s Olivia doing these days?”

  “Man…I went to her house to, you know, see if she’s changed her mind.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. She wasn’t home when I got there,” said Darren, glossing over the truth.

  York began jotting down numbers on his clipboard. “Then what do you intend on doing about your living arrangement? Jay said you didn’t have much more time to figure it out.”

  “He told you that, did he? What a guy.”

  Finished, York stood and dusted off his knees. “If you need to take time off to look for a place, all you had to do was ask.”

  Darren considered Irwin’s offer. He’d been thinking of nothing else for weeks since the first time Irwin came to speak to him. Darren had hoped that, by now, Olivia would have changed her mind, but seeing as that didn’t look likely, Irwin’s proposal seemed the most promising direction to take. If the offer was for real.

  “I actually wanted to run something by you,” he told York.

  “Go for it.”

  “Do you remember me telling you about that librarian guy? The one hanging around my kid?”

  York nodded. “Yeah. What about him?”

  “Well, he swung by to speak to me today and made me an offer.”

  York turned his head, his jaw tight. “What kind of offer are we talking about?”

  Darren didn’t appreciate York’s accusatory tone. “No, no, nothing like that. Relax. Totally legit, I think anyways.”

  “You think? Stop talkin’ in circles, Crane. What exactly did he propose?”

  “He started off hounding me about whether or not I intend to be in Harper’s life like he’s got some right to do that.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him it was none of his business. I don’t have to answer to him or anybody else.”

  York tilted his head. “You said that to him?”

  “I damn well did. I don’t need to answer to that old guy.”

  York shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No. I want to know,” demanded Darren, tired of everybody treating him like he was stupid or something.

  “All right. I’ll tell you. I’m looking at you this way because I’m always in awe of what a malignant liar you are.”

  Darren almost fell back. “What did you call me?”

  “A malignant liar. A person who can’t tell the truth to save his life.”

  “I know what it is.”

  “Then you also know why I’m calling you that.”

  Darren squinted. York was holding something back, and he aimed to figure out why. “So what are you saying?”

  Not easily intimidated, York rose to the challenge. “I’m calling you a liar, Crane. I spoke to Mr. Abernathy after he came to see you. He phoned me and told me what he proposed. I highly doubt you blew him off. As a matter of fact, I think the old guy was right in putting you on the spot. It’s time for you to step up or step off, for everyone’s sake, but especially Harper’s.”

  Darren’s face grew hot and red. “You can’t talk to me like that,” Darren shouted.

  “I can, and I will. Somebody has to,” York roared. “You’re out of that hell hole, and you’ve been given a chance to succeed. I like you, man. You know that, but I won’t lie to you or for you. You have to take care of your business and stop making excuses. The only way you are going to stay out of prison is to take responsibility for your choices. Take this opportunity to rise to the occasion and be somebody. Make things right.”

  Darren paced the room. Half of him wanted to book, run far away, while the other part of him—the part that had become whole again—knew he had to stop running.

  “Don’t walk away from this. Face it. Head on,” encouraged York. “I’m here for you, man, but y
ou gotta be here for yourself as well.”

  With sunken shoulders, Darren nodded and rubbed his tired eyes.

  “Are you hearing me?”

  “I hear you,” Darren said, letting out a deep exhale.

  “Do you? Cause it’s now or never. You’re at the twenty-yard line. You can either fumble, run the ball, punt, or call it quits. The choice, my friend, is up to you.”

  “You and your football analogies.”

  “The best kind.”

  Darren grinned. “Okay. Using your analogy, what if I decide to run the ball myself, go for the touchdown?”

  York smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, giving Darren a congratulatory slap on the shoulder.

  CHAPTER 19

  Cornelia

  Cornelia scurried around the kitchen, prepping this, stirring that while Irwin sat alone in his study lost in his thoughts and busy making copies of his paperwork.

  “They’re gonna be here any minute, Irwin,” shouted Cornelia from the kitchen. “Are you ready?”

  Irwin slid the last batch of clipped papers into a large envelope.

  “Irwin! Did you hear me? They’re gonna be here any minute.” She plopped down in a chair to rest. “Are you even listening to me?”

  Damn obstinate man.

  Cornelia shut her eyes, counting off what she had left to do, repeating in order her tasks, a trick she had incorporated since the forgetting had begun.

  Irwin wedged the envelope under his armpit and pulled shut his office door. “Smells good,” he announced, walking into the kitchen.

  “Oh!” Cornelia grabbed her neck. “You startled me.”

  “I scare you in my own house.”

  “Mere details.”

  The kitchen table had been set for six. Cornelia adjusted one of the forks to line up straighter.

  “Listen,” muttered Irwin, “can that stay warm for a bit? I’d like to get this over with.”

  “What?” Cornelia’s brow furrowed. She glanced around the kitchen.

  “The meeting with everyone?” Irwin stared at his friend, who looked lost in thought. “I’d like to get it over with and then come back to the house to eat.”