Page 17 of Take the Fall
“Sit before you fall,” he said.
I sat. He stayed standing on the far side of the counter, a careful arm’s length of laminate between us.
“How’s the head.”
“Like someone parked on it.”
“You ate nothing yesterday and drank most of a bottle.” He filled a glass at the tap and pushed it over. “Water first. The coffee won’t forgive you on an empty tank.”
I drank it. Every cell that had spent the night marinating put a hand up. He watched to be sure I finished, then dropped two slices in the toaster without asking.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Dry. No butter. You’ll keep it down.”
I turned the mug on the counter. There was a question I’d been carrying since I opened my eyes, and it came out before the smarter part of me could stop it.
“What did I say last night.”
He looked at me.
“I run my mouth when I’m gone. Always have.” I made myself hold his eyes. “So. What did you get.”
He took his time. “Enough.”
“Hawley.”
“You talked about your father.” Flat. Watching me. “You said he pulls. That you never feel a hand on you, you just look up one day and you’re standing where he wanted.” A beat. “You said some other things.”
“What other things.”
“You said the ground was ahead on points.” He didn’t soften it and he didn’t make a meal of it. He set it on the counter between us and let me look at it. “Some nights, was how you put it.”
My face did something I couldn’t stop. I picked the coffee up so my hands had a job.
“That’s a figure of speech,” I said.
“Is it.”
“It’s a thing people say.”
“People say a lot of things at two in the morning they spend the daylight calling figures of speech.” His eyes didn’t move off me. “I’m not going to push it. I’m telling you I heard it, and I won’t pretend I didn’t.”
I didn’t have anything for it.
“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I said.
“Good.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.” He let it sit. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t hear it.”
The toast popped. Neither of us looked at it.
“You going to put it in a report,” I said.
“Put what in a report.”
