“Do as I say, not as I’ve done,” he adds. “As you know, Carol and I have split up.”
That’s far from news, but I let my boss say his piece.
“Carol wanted to work on things for years,” he admits, pointing at his son, who’s on his back working under a sports car. “Probably since before that one was even born. But I never managed to do anything right. Those aren’t Carol’s words. Those are mine. I only realize now that I’ve lost her, that the one person I really needed to be honest with and never was, was myself.”
That hits hard.
“If someone really loves you, they’re not going to judge you on your results. They’ll judge you on your effort. You need to look inside, Franco, and decide what kind of partner you want to be to this girl. Woman, I’m sorry. I’m still old-school that way. Carol keeps telling me that’s offensive. She’s an adult woman.”
I smile and nod. “No offense taken. I’m sure Chloe wouldn’t mind.”
“If you try and screw up, she can never say you didn’t try. Women are smart, Franco. They see through bullshit and lies, but they also see the truth. Even when we pigheaded men can’t admit it to ourselves.”
He doesn’t say anything more, and I truly get his point. He’s right. I have been doing what’s easy and safe in this relationship.
Sex.
I’m great at it, and it bonds me to her, but is that really all I have to give? That, and a little money to make sure she had a phone. I don’t even need to think about the answer to that. I would give her everything.
“Thank you, Earl,” I say, and I mean it. I think he can tell. “Are you okay? I haven’t even asked, but you’ve been going through a lot yourself these past couple months.”
Earl nods slowly and then gives me a smile. “I am okay,” he says. “Thanks for asking. I never imagined I’d be alone at this age, but I think it’s been good for me. The soul-searching has been good, but the fishing’s even better.”
I crack a smile and turn to go back to work.
“Franco.” Earl stops me before I get too far. “Why don’t you take some time off? We’re slow. Jack and I can handle the shop.”
I cock my chin at him, wondering what he’s getting at. “Are you sending me home?”
“No, not at all. You’re welcome to stay, but Pennsylvania’s not far away.” He nods toward Chloe’s desk. “I have her mom’s phone number and address. Needed emergency contact information in case of emergency.” Earl grabs a folder from inside Chloe’s desk and scribbles a phone number and address on a sticky note. “Happy Thanksgiving, son,” he says, handing the paper to me. “I’ll see you Monday.”
I take the address and stare down at it. I freeze for just a second. Am I really going to do this? Am I going to surprise a woman I’ve been dating for just two months?
“Change your mind?” Earl asks, lowering those bushy brows at me.
“No,” I say, throwing my arms around him and giving him a quick, hard hug. “Just wanted to say thanks.”
Earl claps me back and nods, then starts shouting at Jack to turn his damn music down. I take off for my truck, a plan already in motion.
* * *
By the timeI roll up to Chloe’s mom’s house, I’m a bundle of nerves. My thoughts have been everywhere while I drove here, and I almost turned around twice.
But I keep thinking about what Earl said. The people we love don’t tally up our successes and failures. They only care that we try.
I’ve got Mia on a leash and a bouquet of flowers in my hand when I knock on the door. Chloe answers it, looking more than shocked. She looks like I’ve caught her, and she doesn’t look happy to see me.
“Franco?” She yanks the door open and talks to me through the screen door. She fumbles with the lock on the screen and then shoves that open, nearly hitting me in the chest. “What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is your mom okay?”
This is the moment of truth. She’s either going to be happy with my grand gesture, or she’s not. I thrust the roses at her. “These are for your mom,” I tell her. “I didn’t want to show up at her home empty-handed.”
“Thank you. Mom’s not here right now. She’s at work. You’re freaking me out. What’s wrong?” Mia is wagging her tail like crazy, and Chloe just now seems to realize that the dog is with me. “You brought Mia?” She drops to her knees and scratches the dog’s ears.
Even though this isn’t the reception I’d hoped for, I ask her if I can come in. “Can we talk?”
She nods and invites me in, and then she locks the doors behind me. Her mother’s house is really tidy, decorated with dated but well-maintained tchotchkes and knickknacks on every surface. It reminds me a lot of Ann’s apartment.
“Are you hungry?” she asks. “Thirsty? You must be.”
