bills, there wasn’t much left from her mother’s estate. But Claire paid off a chunk of their debt, and set a little aside for Brian’s college. Her mom would have wanted that.
One of the last conversations she’d had with her mother had been about Brian. She hadn’t told her mom about Brian’s brushes with the law and his trouble at school. An ailing old woman shouldn’t have to hear such troublesome news about her only grandchild. But on the phone the last time they’d spoken, Claire’s mother had seemed to know. “You’re worried about Brian, aren’t you?” she’d asked. “He’ll be okay, Claire. Brian’s a good boy. He’ll be all right.”
Claire thought about that last conversation some time later—after eight months, two more visits to the school principal, and one more trip down to the police precinct to escort Brian home. She was standing in line at the Burger King near work, waiting to order her lunch. Over the Muzac system came “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” Suddenly she could see Charlie waltzing around the darkened nursery with little Julia in his arms, singing that tune. She thought of her mother—and Brian. Would he really be all right, as her mom had said?
All at once, Claire felt this awful, aching sadness rising within her. Tears welled in her eyes. She let out a rasp, and knew she couldn’t control it. She didn’t want to start sobbing in the middle of the stupid Burger King.
She ran out to the parking lot, almost getting mowed down by someone peeling away from the drive-thru. The car horn blared. “Stupid, fucking bitch!” someone yelled from the window. “Watch where you’re going!”
Claire reached the sidewalk on the other side of the drive-thru. She didn’t want anyone seeing her. Tears streaming down her eyes, she ducked through a gap in the trimmed hedges bordering the Burger King, and found a row of empty benches by a deserted car wash. Claire plopped down on a bench and cried.
After a couple of minutes, she dried her eyes and blew her nose. Then she realized someone was standing at the end of the bench. Claire glanced up at a tall, handsome man with salt and pepper hair. He held a Burger King bag. “I wasn’t sure what you were going to order,” he said. “So I just got you a cheeseburger, fries, and a Diet Coke. Is that okay?”
He sat down on the bench and set the bag between them. “I know I’m imposing, but you looked like you could use a friend—and some lunch. My name is Harlan Shaw.”
Later, over dinner at home, she told Brian all about him: “He’s a widower. His wife died—along with her best friend—in a car accident fifteen months ago. He has a four-year-old daughter. They live on Deception Island, up in the San Juans. I mean, it’s like a vacation spot for a lot of people, and he lives there year round. He’s manager at a chemical plant on the island. He’s really very nice. I think you’ll like him. And isn’t it sweet how we met?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Brian grunted, rolling his eyes. “It’s a Whopper of a good story.”
“You know, this will be my first date in seventeen years,” she said, exasperated. “I like him, and I’m a bit nervous about the whole thing. Would it kill you to be a little supportive?”
Brian was supportive, and even cordial to Harlan, whom he thought was “okay, for someone who acts like he has a stick up his butt.”
To Claire, Harlan was godsend. He was rescuing her from loneliness, debt, and a life she hated.
He took her and Brian out of the city for a weekend, and they stayed at his house on the island. It was a beautiful home. She imagined the guest room becoming Brian’s bedroom, and her son starting fresh at a new high school. She could take him away from his seedy friends. Harlan helped coach a summer softball team for high school boys. She told herself that he’d be good for Brian.
Harlan’s daughter, Tiffany, developed an immediate crush on Brian. He in turn was charming toward her. They
One of the last conversations she’d had with her mother had been about Brian. She hadn’t told her mom about Brian’s brushes with the law and his trouble at school. An ailing old woman shouldn’t have to hear such troublesome news about her only grandchild. But on the phone the last time they’d spoken, Claire’s mother had seemed to know. “You’re worried about Brian, aren’t you?” she’d asked. “He’ll be okay, Claire. Brian’s a good boy. He’ll be all right.”
Claire thought about that last conversation some time later—after eight months, two more visits to the school principal, and one more trip down to the police precinct to escort Brian home. She was standing in line at the Burger King near work, waiting to order her lunch. Over the Muzac system came “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” Suddenly she could see Charlie waltzing around the darkened nursery with little Julia in his arms, singing that tune. She thought of her mother—and Brian. Would he really be all right, as her mom had said?
All at once, Claire felt this awful, aching sadness rising within her. Tears welled in her eyes. She let out a rasp, and knew she couldn’t control it. She didn’t want to start sobbing in the middle of the stupid Burger King.
She ran out to the parking lot, almost getting mowed down by someone peeling away from the drive-thru. The car horn blared. “Stupid, fucking bitch!” someone yelled from the window. “Watch where you’re going!”
Claire reached the sidewalk on the other side of the drive-thru. She didn’t want anyone seeing her. Tears streaming down her eyes, she ducked through a gap in the trimmed hedges bordering the Burger King, and found a row of empty benches by a deserted car wash. Claire plopped down on a bench and cried.
After a couple of minutes, she dried her eyes and blew her nose. Then she realized someone was standing at the end of the bench. Claire glanced up at a tall, handsome man with salt and pepper hair. He held a Burger King bag. “I wasn’t sure what you were going to order,” he said. “So I just got you a cheeseburger, fries, and a Diet Coke. Is that okay?”
He sat down on the bench and set the bag between them. “I know I’m imposing, but you looked like you could use a friend—and some lunch. My name is Harlan Shaw.”
Later, over dinner at home, she told Brian all about him: “He’s a widower. His wife died—along with her best friend—in a car accident fifteen months ago. He has a four-year-old daughter. They live on Deception Island, up in the San Juans. I mean, it’s like a vacation spot for a lot of people, and he lives there year round. He’s manager at a chemical plant on the island. He’s really very nice. I think you’ll like him. And isn’t it sweet how we met?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Brian grunted, rolling his eyes. “It’s a Whopper of a good story.”
“You know, this will be my first date in seventeen years,” she said, exasperated. “I like him, and I’m a bit nervous about the whole thing. Would it kill you to be a little supportive?”
Brian was supportive, and even cordial to Harlan, whom he thought was “okay, for someone who acts like he has a stick up his butt.”
To Claire, Harlan was godsend. He was rescuing her from loneliness, debt, and a life she hated.
He took her and Brian out of the city for a weekend, and they stayed at his house on the island. It was a beautiful home. She imagined the guest room becoming Brian’s bedroom, and her son starting fresh at a new high school. She could take him away from his seedy friends. Harlan helped coach a summer softball team for high school boys. She told herself that he’d be good for Brian.
Harlan’s daughter, Tiffany, developed an immediate crush on Brian. He in turn was charming toward her. They
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