Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
When Sam’s mother called and invited us for a barbecue, I was excited to go. Just us and Sam’s sisters and his brother and their families, I thought would be okay. Small, intimate, and we would all be outside, in the backyard, and it would be nice.
“Oh,” I said when we drove up, because holy crap there were cars parked bumper to bumper up and down the street. There was a space for us in the driveway, but Sam didn’t want to park there.
“We’ll never get out, and we’ll be stuck here, and then I’ll end up yelling, and I don’t wanna yell,” he told me.
“Yes, dear,” I teased him, and he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, which I sighed over, because even after all these years, my heart still raced when he smiled.
At the door, Sam was not happy to see his father without a mask.
“Really?”
“It’s just us,” he told his son, and Hannah stepped between them and presented her grandfather with her newest creation for him, tie-dye.
“Honey, I’m outside having a beer,” he told her.
“You can wear it between sips,” she said cheerfully, steamrolling right over his argument.
He groaned, took the mask, and put it on.
Inside, I was horrified to find a much bigger group of people than expected. There were friends of Thomas and Regina, plus their families and extended family, cousins, their kids, and their friends. It was a zoo.
“Okay,” Sam said, pointing outside.
Hannah, Kola, and I made a beeline for the back door that led out onto the porch, and while it was nice to see that the misters were on and lots of tables were set up, Sam had us walk toward the farthest one out.
Several of his cousins stopped him, and while he did that, chatted, the second we reached the table, he told his daughter to sanitize him.
Spraying him, she was smiling at him behind her mask, I could tell from her eyes crinkling up as she gazed at her father.
“We should go,” Kola told him. “This is going to make you upset.”
“The hell is going on,” he growled, glancing around. “I count five masks in this sea of people and—Jesus, Rachel!” he yelled at his sister. “Where’s your goddamn mask?”
The fact that he could get that kind of volume through the cotton barrier AND be heard crystal clear, like, every word, was impressive and gave one a hint at the normal decibel level that he could get his voice up to.
“Sammy, we’re outside,” she told him.
He growled back.
She walked over to see us, and when she stepped toward me, he asked if she was kidding.
“I can’t hug my brother-in-law?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, taking the mask from Hannah that she’d brought for her aunt and putting it on her, curving the nose guard that Hannah now sewed into each mask, and molding it to his sister’s face. “Now you can hug him.”
“This is so uncom––” She stopped suddenly, moved her head from side to side, then down, and then lifted up to meet Sam’s gaze. “Okay, this fits really well. Thank you, B.”
She got to hug her niece, then me, and Sam asked where her kids were.
“Out with friends. They’ll be by later.”
He glared at her.
“Sam, you can’t keep kids in all the time. They’ll go stir-crazy.”
“That’s what exercise is for,” he told her. “And FaceTime.”
She threw up her hands. “Just because your kids are perfect doesn’t mean everyone’s are,” she assured him.
“They’re not perfect,” I chimed in. “They’re good, but perfect?”
“Hey,” Kola muttered, scowling at me.
“Water,” Hannah whimpered beside me. “It’s ninety billion degrees out here.”
“I’ll go get some bottles. You stay here.”
Inside the house, there were more people without masks. And I didn’t want to sound preachy, but the fact of the matter was, cases were going up, not down, and Sam’s parents fell squarely into the “at risk” category. I knew what I would be doing the following day. I would come back over and help disinfect the house. I was already making a list of supplies in my head.
“Excuse me.”
Turning, I found a man smiling at me under a regular blue mask.
“Is your name Jory?”
“It is,” I answered. “And you are?”
“It’s me. Ben. Ben Adler. We used to go clubbing together.”
“Oh, Ben,” I said, smiling behind my mask. I didn’t think I ever knew his last name, but I did use to go out dancing with a guy named Ben. I hadn’t seen him in a lifetime, because the last time I’d laid eyes on him had been when I first met the chief deputy. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he said, eyes on me as I moved to the refrigerator and got out four large bottles of water. “And Jesus, you look exactly the same.”
“That’s very kind,” I said, chuckling. “But that was over twenty years ago, so I’m gonna call bullshit on that. What are you doing here?”