whines.
“Yeah, like a month ago. C’mon.” He lifts Richie off the stool and pats his butt. “We don’t wanna be late.”
“But Mom yells too much,” he says as he drags his feet down the hallway.
“Sounds about right.” It was a nasty divorce. A wife of two years with some insane trust issues. A wife who fell out of love with a man who cared too much about his work. A wife who didn’t adapt to the fact that she was a mother and no longer belonged at the club scene.
“Are you doing anything exciting with your day?” His mother asks, the smell of dark roast surrounding them.
“Gonna stop and see my friend at the Whammy Bar and maybe grab a drink before sleeping the rest of the day.”
“You mean Freedom?” yells Richie from his bedroom.
Mattley’s perplexed. “What do you know about it?”
“Remember, we ran into her not long ago at the line at the fair? You love her, I can tell. You couldn’t stop flirting with her. At least she is pretty, though, not like that Jennifer next door who’s in love with you.”
“I was not flirting, and Jennifer next door is not in love with me.” Mattley looks at his mother, his voice low. “Where the hell does this kid get his smarts from?”
“He gets his smarts from you.” She smiles as she makes his coffee. “Accusing you of flirting with women? That he gets from his mother.”
—
“
It’s odd seeing you
, when there’s only one of you to see.” Freedom laughed, poking Mattley’s side from behind. In all fairness, it wasjust as odd for Mattley, seeing her for the first time in daylight while she was sober. Away from the night, she was strikingly beautiful.
It was a few months ago, the Fourth of July. The fair smelled of sunblock and gunpowder and watermelon. Vendors’ stations smoked with hot dogs and burgers, the kids had their faces painted. “Freedom, how have you been?” Mattley’s cheeks were tinged pink, an insulated beer cup in hand.
“I didn’t know you drank.”
“This?” He raised the can. “This is maybe my first beer since Christmas.”
“So, you’re here for the fireworks?”
“I am, here with my son,” he looked around. “He’s around here somewhere. What about you? You here to share your patriotism with the rest of Painter?”
“Me? No.” Freedom adjusted the red bandanna on her head. “I’m just walking through. I prefer to be drunk by myself.”
“Well, all the cops are already here. Might as well save ’em a trip.” He smiled. He lifted his sunglasses to his sunburned head. “You shouldn’t drink, though.”
Freedom looks at his beer. “Oh, really?”
“I’ll make you a deal. I will, hand on heart, not drink one more sip if you don’t.” He tilts the beer, ready to pour it out.
Freedom smiled, perhaps for the first time in twenty years. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because.” He had to think. Freedom recognized the buzz in him and was amused by this unseen side of Officer Mattley. “Because you have beautiful skin, and alcohol is bad for your skin.”
She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You’re not that smooth.”
“Well, it’s my day off.” He leaned in to her ear. “And I kind of like being your knight in shining armor.”
Richie ran up and grabbed his father’s leg. “Daddy, Daddy, look at my face paint!”
“Last chance,” he says as he tilts the beer once more.
“All right, fine, fine.”
He put his arm around her shoulders as he spilled the beer onto the dried grass. “Thatta girl.”
“That’s alcohol abuse, ya know.”
Throughout the evening they flirted until it was time for the fireworks to finish off a seemingly perfect night.
Moments after the grand finale, their ears and eyes sore from the blasts, and the sun long set, Richie fell asleep on Freedom’s lap, melted ice cream pasted all over his face. Mattley took her hand.
Attendees from the show were packing their blankets and balloons and beer cans and lighting the last of their sparklers. Freedom
“Yeah, like a month ago. C’mon.” He lifts Richie off the stool and pats his butt. “We don’t wanna be late.”
“But Mom yells too much,” he says as he drags his feet down the hallway.
“Sounds about right.” It was a nasty divorce. A wife of two years with some insane trust issues. A wife who fell out of love with a man who cared too much about his work. A wife who didn’t adapt to the fact that she was a mother and no longer belonged at the club scene.
“Are you doing anything exciting with your day?” His mother asks, the smell of dark roast surrounding them.
“Gonna stop and see my friend at the Whammy Bar and maybe grab a drink before sleeping the rest of the day.”
“You mean Freedom?” yells Richie from his bedroom.
Mattley’s perplexed. “What do you know about it?”
“Remember, we ran into her not long ago at the line at the fair? You love her, I can tell. You couldn’t stop flirting with her. At least she is pretty, though, not like that Jennifer next door who’s in love with you.”
“I was not flirting, and Jennifer next door is not in love with me.” Mattley looks at his mother, his voice low. “Where the hell does this kid get his smarts from?”
“He gets his smarts from you.” She smiles as she makes his coffee. “Accusing you of flirting with women? That he gets from his mother.”
—
“
It’s odd seeing you
, when there’s only one of you to see.” Freedom laughed, poking Mattley’s side from behind. In all fairness, it wasjust as odd for Mattley, seeing her for the first time in daylight while she was sober. Away from the night, she was strikingly beautiful.
It was a few months ago, the Fourth of July. The fair smelled of sunblock and gunpowder and watermelon. Vendors’ stations smoked with hot dogs and burgers, the kids had their faces painted. “Freedom, how have you been?” Mattley’s cheeks were tinged pink, an insulated beer cup in hand.
“I didn’t know you drank.”
“This?” He raised the can. “This is maybe my first beer since Christmas.”
“So, you’re here for the fireworks?”
“I am, here with my son,” he looked around. “He’s around here somewhere. What about you? You here to share your patriotism with the rest of Painter?”
“Me? No.” Freedom adjusted the red bandanna on her head. “I’m just walking through. I prefer to be drunk by myself.”
“Well, all the cops are already here. Might as well save ’em a trip.” He smiled. He lifted his sunglasses to his sunburned head. “You shouldn’t drink, though.”
Freedom looks at his beer. “Oh, really?”
“I’ll make you a deal. I will, hand on heart, not drink one more sip if you don’t.” He tilts the beer, ready to pour it out.
Freedom smiled, perhaps for the first time in twenty years. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because.” He had to think. Freedom recognized the buzz in him and was amused by this unseen side of Officer Mattley. “Because you have beautiful skin, and alcohol is bad for your skin.”
She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You’re not that smooth.”
“Well, it’s my day off.” He leaned in to her ear. “And I kind of like being your knight in shining armor.”
Richie ran up and grabbed his father’s leg. “Daddy, Daddy, look at my face paint!”
“Last chance,” he says as he tilts the beer once more.
“All right, fine, fine.”
He put his arm around her shoulders as he spilled the beer onto the dried grass. “Thatta girl.”
“That’s alcohol abuse, ya know.”
Throughout the evening they flirted until it was time for the fireworks to finish off a seemingly perfect night.
Moments after the grand finale, their ears and eyes sore from the blasts, and the sun long set, Richie fell asleep on Freedom’s lap, melted ice cream pasted all over his face. Mattley took her hand.
Attendees from the show were packing their blankets and balloons and beer cans and lighting the last of their sparklers. Freedom
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