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Hog Butcher: 2nd Edition

Page 46

by Andrew Sutherland


  Shrek was back at work. Al arranged to have ten pounds of bacon delivered and told Shrek all the information on where to get it. He and Carlos would have the world’s best bacon any time they wanted. “Thank you, Shrek. You saved some lives.”

  Shrek was over his concussion and seemed no worse for the wear, though he was still having a little hearing loss in one ear. “No sweat, Al. We’re theatre people. Family. Nothing’s more important than family.”

  “Hug me, big man.” Shrek gave Al a hug, and Al happily returned it.

  Al stopped Sunny in the hall. She was the most affected by the whole ordeal with Bannerman and the loss of people close to her. “Hey, Sunny.”

  “Hiya, Al. You outta here soon?”

  “Yep. I’m going back to Sacramento, and E is coming out with me for a week and meet the family. I want you to do something for me.”

  “Sure, Al. Anything.”

  “When you’re ready to talk all of this out, tell Edith. She knows a great counselor who can talk all this out with you.”

  “Al…”

  “Sunny. Don’t bullshit me. This stuff got under your skin. You were here feeling helpless and all by yourself. It did stuff to you. You also lost some friends. I’ve watched you for a while, and I know that you like to be an island unto yourself. That’s cool, but you’ve got a smudge on your psyche. Not a crack, not a huge wound, but a smudge. Talking will help you buff out the smudge and keep burning as bright as ever. Will you do that for me, Sunny?”

  To Al’s surprise, Sunny started to cry. Soon he was holding her. “You’re such a fucker, Al. Fucker, fucker, fucker. You just see right through me. I’m gonna miss you so much.”

  “I’ll be through. We’re connected now. You need anything, holler. We’ve spent real time together. It’s permanent.” He let her go and she wiped her eyes.

  “Edith will be back, right?”

  “Yeah she’ll be working here part-time, so you’ll see her as much as you like. She thinks you guys are groovy. She wants to start doing girls’ night slumber parties a couple times a month. No drama off the screen this time. I’ll see you before we take off.”

  “Ok, Al. And I’ll take you up on the talking to someone thing. I promise.”

  He was sitting with Edith the night before they left for California. He’d moved out of the hotel a while back. He’d caught up with all the folks he could from the old days, when he was a young actor in Chicago and growing old was a fantasy he didn’t quite believe in. He felt like Chicago was, once again, played out. It was time to go home. He missed his folks and Scotty Mac. He really missed his English bulldog, Petunia. He missed his motorcycle, his gym, his little house, and his coffee shop. Party Tyme was going to be a first stop with E. He was going to show her everything.

  Edith was snuggled into the crook of his arm. “How you doing?” She wasn’t looking at him. They were both staring into the gas fireplace.

  “Hmmm?” Al asked. He’d been spacing out, deep in thought.

  She propped herself up a little way back from his face so she could look into his eyes. “I asked how you were because I could feel you drifting off into your head.”

  “I think it’s eerie that way you can tell when I’m doing that.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I was just thinking, what a waste, ya know. What a colossal waste. Theatre folks do what they do because they love it. They’re driven. So all these people, Bannerman, the people from the workshop, they all had a righteous fire burning in their souls and instead of sticking out a hand and helping, they chose to do dark and isolating thigs. How did it work out for them? Carnage. Just a bunch of fucking carnage and collateral damage. It’s sad.”

  “You said yourself, Eric was just waiting to get knocked off his rails by something. I agree. The others let a little prank go way too far. The part that bums me out is how much meanness there was in the situation. The people that hurt Eric were fucking mean to him. It pissed him off so much that he sat for a decade and a half collecting, no, hoarding hate. Then he doled out hate in the guise of vengeance. All it took to stop it was a couple of people who love what’s right and want to stop what’s wrong.”

  “That’s very romantic, E. You’re saying that all those years and years of hatred were snuffed out by a few people willing to get together and sling some love around?”

  “Are you making fun of me?” It was an honest question, but so was his.

  “Not at all. I was just wondering if you were postulating that you could solve a pragmatic problem with a romantic solution.”

  “I wish you could hang out with yourself, Al. You have no idea how much romantic energy you pump out into the universe just by breathing and thinking your little thinks.”

  “Back at ya.” He kissed her. “So, are you all packed? If you need something while we’re out there, we can just buy it. There are stores in Sacramento, believe it or not.”

  “I’m packed and ready. I even have the espresso machine ready for tomorrow morning. What time do we have to leave?”

  “Smed is picking us up at 10:00am. We’ll swing by the theatre and say good bye, in the limo by 10:30. You managed to get us in the TSA pre-check line, which I am not going to ask about, so we should be able to roll in, stroll through security, and have a little time to spare before we fly out to Sacramento. Tickets are printed. All we have to do is check bags.”

  “What if your parents don’t like me?”

  “You have absolutely no worries there. They get to meet the first girlfriend I’ve had since I was married. They might try to capture you and display you in a glass cabinet in the corner of the living room.”

  She laughed. “That’s equally creepy and funny.”

  He had started laughing as well. “That’s how we roll. Let’s sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be exciting. My parents are taking us to my favorite restaurant in the United States. It’s called The Water Boy. In Sacramento, California, of all places. You would never know that an evil genius chef spends his waking hours at 2000 Capitol Avenue, just waiting for unexpecting epicures to stumble in and become his willing slaves. Seriously, best food ever.”

  “OK, buddy. Get to bed. We have to do your conditioning exercises before you sleep.” She was standing now.

  He stood and pulled her close, “How long are you going to call the shots in the bedroom under the guise of it being part of my physical rehab?”

  “Only about twenty years. Then we’ll switch.”

  They went to the bedroom and Al was in her capable hands for the next hour.

  85

  They were laying in Al’s bed. They were both uncomfortably full from dinner.

  His mom and dad had picked them up at the airport. Petunia was in the back seat. She was playing “hard to get” with Al at first, but was soon sitting on his lap with her forehead pressed to his. It looked like some form of alien communication. Al’s mom peppered Edith with polite conversation, seasoned with the occasional off-color remark by Al’s dad. Halfway through the ride home, Petunia was done staring Al down, and she went over to investigate the other human in the back seat. She was sniffing tentatively at first. Within a minute, she was upside down in Edith’s lap, wiggling and being scratched. Edith had gotten the A-OK from Princess Petunia.

  When they got to Al’s house, Scotty Mac was driving by. He stopped and hollered out the window at them. He’d be at the coffee shop tomorrow morning, and they should have breakfast and a meeting. They agreed to 11:00am. Street scheduling.

  Al’s dad helped with Edith’s bag. As she reached out for her purse, he noticed her ring. He said, “Black diamond?”

  “Yep. Platinum band.”

  “He gets his smarts from his mom and his good taste from his old man. Al will show you his little house, then come in and we’ll grill you with uncomfortable questions for thirty minutes. Just so we can get that part out of the way.” His dad was being so charming, she thought he might pull a muscle.

  Al gave her the grand to
ur, for what it was. They went in and chatted until dinner time. At dinner, they ate slowly and relished every bit. Al had a diet tonic while everyone else had something from the bar. Edith changed it up and ordered a Black Russian, his dad had a gin martini, and his mom, who rarely drank, had a nice white Burgundy. They split the house charcuterie tray as an appetizer. Then it was Caesar salads all around. The main dishes were crazy. Al ordered quail stuffed with sweetbreads and served with truffled mashed potatoes and sautéed greens. His dad had the ribeye with scalloped potatoes and green beans. Edith ordered seared day-boat scallops with butternut squash risotto, sautéed spinach, crispy onions, brown butter, and Meyer lemon. His mom went with the Bouillabaisse. Their version of the dish was cod and shellfish stew with saffron, tomato, leeks, and fennel. They split two desserts, a flourless chocolate cake, and white chocolate macadamia nut crème brûlée with blackberry coulis. They were all so full, they almost couldn’t move.

  After dinner, they talked more and played some cards: four-way cribbage. Al’s parents were big card players. Edith would learn some of the other classic family games later in the week. They were going to do it all.

  He turned his head toward her. Their heads were almost touching, but Petunia had snuggled down between the two of them. It wasn’t a chaperone move; it was just a cozy nest for the old girl to snuggle down in. “Well?”

  “What do I think?”

  “I was going to ask if you wanted to bug out early, but I guess it’s the same thing.”

  “Your parents are sweet. Smart. Smart, smart, smart. I feel perfectly at home. I love this little girl here. You may have to search my bag before I get on the plane to leave.” She trailed off.

  “Do I detect a ‘but’ coming up?”

  “Oh, Al. It’s all so much more perfect and comfortable than anything I’ve ever experienced. I know they aren’t perfect. Neither are you or Petunia, but you’re perfect for me. I’m so happy that I’m scared. I think when I was sick, part of me not getting emotionally stuck was that I genuinely hated my life. A life like this with you? I feel like I’m tempting fate. I don’t want to lose any of it.”

  “I feel the same way. I think we can make the long-distance part work, especially if we know that it’s for a limited time.”

  “I’m in. I’m so happy right now. Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not picking the girl with the weird hair and all the stickers on her computer at the restaurant the first day we met. And for inviting me to Mississippi. And for trusting me with your heart.”

  “And thank you for saving my life. It all works out, doesn’t it?”

  They lay in his queen-sized bed. The windows were cracked open and the crickets were serenading them as if the spirit of Walt Disney was directing this part of the evening. Petunia passed out first. Al carried her to her little bed and covered her with her favorite blanket. Al stripped his clothes off. His new scar was pink and puckered, but healing nicely. Edith, already naked, was laying under the sheets, the tip of her peacock tattoo peeking out above the covers like Petunia’s ears. “Come in here and hold me. I’m too full to make love, but sleep with me in your arms. I love that part.”

  Al climbed in behind Edith until her caboose was parked against his lower belly. He had one arm under her pillow and the other wrapped up and over her small frame. She was surrounded by two hundred and forty pounds of contradictions: tough and gentle, public and shy, clever and clueless. More than anything, she was surrounded by strength. Not the strength that comes from the gym or a lifetime of swinging a sledgehammer, but the strength of a man and a woman who found each other in a big crazy world and decided the best option was mutual disarmament.

  Al McNair Books:

  The Girl that Care Forgot

  Sold separately as:

  Book #1-Diparu

  Book #2-Recherche

  * * *

  Book #3-Détruire

  Or in one volume as:

  The Girl that Care Forgot - Books One, Two, and Three

  Bridge City

  Hog Butcher

  www.yarliterary.com

  Cover art for The Girl that Care Forgot, Bridge City,

  and Hog Butcher by J.D. Sutherland.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Andrew (Drew) Sutherland is an Actor, Educator, Amateur Chef, Author, Theatre Artist, and all around Dogsbody. He is father to Eleanore, Joseph, and Samuel. He lives in Sacramento, California and hopes to someday own an English Bulldog.

 

 

 


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