by Diane Strong
to it, but please, sit down first.” He said, pointing to the chair. Megan gave in to his urging and plopped herself down.
Billy looked at the phone then glanced at Megan and smiled. “You know, it’s really nice to have company here on Christmas Eve.” He stepped over to the couch and sat down across from Megan. “This place is awful lonesome lately, it’s just me and Toby the cat here.” He nodded toward the cat and clutched the phone close to his chest. “What’s your name?”
“Megan. Megan Sweeny. I live just over in the Swaysville Township.” Megan felt a little anxious. She would have loved to just sit here all day and chat with this lonely old man, but Lyndsy expected her back home soon and she still needed to throw together a pasta salad for her brother’s Christmas Eve party tonight.
“My mother lives over there. Do you know where Backfork road is? She has a doublewide on that road…at least I think she still lives there. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I miss having her to talk with. She always seemed to say the right things at the right time, but I quit talking to her years ago and haven’t gotten the courage to call her since.” Billy gazed into the corner of the room, lost in a memory.
Looking closer at Billy, Megan examined his features seeking hints to his age. The white beard was full and shaggy. His strong build suggested a man in his early-sixties, but his face beneath showed signs of a man closer to his seventies.
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I know how important moms are…there is no replacing them.” A hint of resentment came with Megan’s words and she instantly regretted what she’d said. She didn’t really want to open up a conversation with him. She just wanted to call Lyndsy and get on with her day.
“Please, call me Billy. Do you have any children, Megan?”
“Yeah. A daughter. That’s who I need to call. She’s expecting me so I would really like to use your phone. Do you mind?” Megan leaned forward in the chair and extended her arm toward his hand that still clutched the little prepaid phone. As she held her hand out, Billy turned away and shook his head as if he didn’t notice it. His eyes flashed a fierce glare and he batted toward her hand as if it were a wasp.
Megan gasped, retrieved her hand, and stood up in one motion. Appalled by his reaction, she walked toward the door.
“No, please.” Billy stood more quickly than any man his age should have been able to, then put his hand out and gently squeezed Megan’s elbow. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just that I have so much more to tell you…please, please stay just a while longer. It’s Christmas Eve.” Billy searched her eyes for some form of understanding.
Lyndsy folded the gold ribbon around a neatly wrapped box. She fumbled, trying to tie it without the aid of someone’s finger. Finally achieving the department store appearance she sought, she grabbed a small card and filled in the blank next to the word “To:.”
She had purchased the frame at a Hallmark store last week and filled it with an old picture she found of her mother as a child embracing her grandma. She knew it would be difficult for her mom to look at but she hoped she would love it as much as she did.
After attaching the card, Lyndsy sneaked over to the Christmas tree as if performing a crime, and tucked it in the back behind a larger gift.
“I really think I should go, Billy.” Megan continued for the door, unsure of what to make of Billy. She was losing patience with the old man. All she wanted was to find a phone so she could call her daughter.
Billy followed Megan, “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go. Just sit down for a minute. I have something for you. Let me go get it.” He gave her a gentle, tear-filled expression and abruptly turned and walked into the other room. He continually talked, louder and louder as he reached a back room out of sight. “It’s just back here, I won’t be but a minute. I think you will really enjoy this.”
Still shaken, Megan put her hand on the door to leave then felt something at her leg. The cat, Toby, rubbed up against her, purring. He gazed up at her with sad eyes and meowed. Megan breathed slowly and deeply then turned and sat back down on the chair. She knew she could out muscle this man if she needed to, and she had her mace. He was likely just lonely. Maybe she had been put in this situation for a reason. Maybe this old man just needed a friend on Christmas Eve.
Billy returned from the long hallway staring at something he carried in his left hand. He walked over to Megan and handed her a framed picture of a little boy sitting on tricycle.
“This is my son, Billy Junior. He was three years old in this picture. Such a cute kid, and smart, too. Oh boy, was he smart. Could build a castle from blocks that would make any architect drool, I swear. He was out of diapers before he walked, damn near. He knew big words. That was his mama’s doin’, but they was big and fancy… just like her.”
“He’s handsome. How old is he now?” Megan knew in her heart that the boy was either out of Billy’s life or maybe even no longer living. This old man wanted her to ask the question or he wouldn’t have put the picture in front of her.
“You’re real lucky to have your daughter. You probably treat her real nice. You probably always kept an eye on her real close, most of the time. You probably let her out a your sight a few times too, but she was fine. No big deal. You’re lucky. I’m not.” Billy sat down with a humph and dropped his gaze, staring at his knees.
“Tell me about it.” With those four words, Megan knew she had committed herself to the long haul. She had opened a can of memories in this man and obliged herself to ride them out along with him. Years of cocktail waitressing had taught her to avoid the personal questions, unless business was slow and she had time to listen. She had time today. No excuse not to listen, at least not a reasonable one.
“You sit there, all excited to run home to your family, you probably have lots to be thankful for. Don’t you?” Billy’s expression looked more accusing than asking.
Megan’s face flushed. She began to resent this man and his assumptions. What right did he have to assume she was lucky or had anything to be thankful for? He didn’t know her or her past. Despite having plenty to say, she said nothing. Instead, she sat and waited for him to go on. She could tell he didn’t really want her to answer. He seemed desperate to spill his thoughts to someone.
“Two minutes. That’s all it was. No longer. He was fine. Just playing there in the sand with his trucks. The phone rang… I could see him the whole time. The phone was right next to the sliding glass door, but I had to write something down. Not anything important, just a part number for an item I needed for work.” He paused, studied her to see if she had guessed the end of the story. Megan stared into his eyes respectfully, waiting for him to finish.
“The pens were right there but I couldn’t find any paper; not a single piece. My wife, she was such a stickler for neatness. I set the phone down and went back to the study where I knew there would be notepads. Two minutes… there’s no way it took longer than that.”
Megan felt afraid to speak. Uneasiness overcame her. Until now, she felt sure that Billy’s temper was an innocent flare-up, but she could see now that he was getting upset with her. He looked off into the distance and continued.
“When I got back to the phone I couldn’t see him out the window, his trucks were just sitting there without him. I cut the call short and hung up the phone to go find him.” Billy stopped abruptly and took a deep, shaky breath. This time when he glanced at her he had tears in his eyes and his lower lip quivered. Megan felt sorry for him. This man is broken beyond repair, she thought. She felt a pang of hurt in her heart.
Memories of Lyndsy as a child, playing unattended in the yard, flooded Megan’s mind. All those times she knew Lyndsy would be just fine, that nothing would hurt her. Megan unreasonably believed that after all she had been through, no just God would ever take away her child. She was somehow protected from yet another loss.
“We had a horse trough in the yard. We used it as a pool in the summer. We never filled it more than a few inches or so, but the rain…it was a real wet summ
er.” Billy puckered his quivering lips, trying to fight the emotion. A tear broke from his eye and scurried down his face. After a painfully long delay, he began again.
“His body was upside-down, his head under the water and his arms in all different directions.”
“Oh, God.” The words slipped quietly from her mouth. What else could she possibly say? She knew it was coming, that the boy would die at the end of his story, but it didn’t dampen the blow of his words as he said them.
“He still had a truck clutched in his little fingers. I pulled him out and pushed on his chest…I didn’t know CPR back then. Nobody did. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I held him upside down like a calf. I swung him like I would have swung a newborn calf that wasn’t breathing. I didn’t know. Then I put him under my arm and ran to the house. He never woke up. The ambulance guys didn’t even try to wake him up when they got there. They just said ‘sorry’.”
“I’m sorry Billy. I don’t know what else to say. It was an accident, you know that. It could happen to anyone, I’m sorry it happened to you.” Megan spoke with heartfelt sincerity. She wanted for him to know how sorry she was and to calm his anger as quickly as possible.
“It could happen to anyone, but it didn’t. It happened
