I kiss Prue’s wrist that’s laid out on the pillow next to me and say the words I had whispered against her skin last night once more. “? ???? ?????.”I love you.Then, I get dressed and make my way outside.
I knock on Welch’s front window, forty minutes before the store is set to open, and Tom gives me a thumbs-up before jogging through the aisles to unlock the door and let me inside.
“Good day, son,” he greets me, holding the door open with a wide smile. “Are you coming or going this morning?”
“Staying,” I answer bluntly, then shake myself, brushing past him to step inside. “Sorry. Good morning, sir.” Tom shuts the door behind me as I cross my arms in front of my chest, looking up to the ceiling andanotherbroken sign I should offer to fix hanging over the produce. “Tom, I—”
“Oh boy…” He interrupts me, then sighs. “I had a feeling this might be coming,” he says, hands on his hips as he nods slowly, his eyes held over my shoulder. “Let me guess, you’re here to tell me you’ve decided to stay put in this little town of ours.”
“Yes.”
“Because of my daughter?”
“Yes,andalso my—well, yes.”
“And you’ve made up your mind?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
He scratches the side of his nose. “I was worried you’d say that.”
“I want to tell her.” A dry, exhausted sort of laugh breaks free. “No, actually, Ineedto tell her. And I’m sorry if that messes up your plan and I’m sorry if that means she’ll not really consider leaving but, honestly, I don’t think Prue has truly thought of leaving you or Mrs. Welch for a second, anyways.” I swallow quickly before continuing. “And I can help too, sir. I can run the store, or help Mrs. Welch, and help Prue with…all of it. I canhelp.I cankeep things the same for her. I can make it so, s-so, so she gets what she wants. You can allstayhere. Together.”
“But, that’s the thing, son. She doesn’t know what she wants,” Tom argues. “And you and I shouldn’t be making that decision for her.”
“Sir, that is exactly what we’re doing!” I shout, then turn my face downward, running a hand through my hair and tugging at the ends. “Sorry, just…You need to tell her too, about your…” I close my eyes briefly, knowing how much it’ll hurt Prue to have not known. “She has a right to know. Shedeservesto know.”
“And what doyoustand to gain from me telling her that I’m sick, hmm?” Tom fires back, studying me with a crooked gaze as he picks up a clipboard off the shelf and tucks it under his arm. “She’ll be trapped here by guilt, made to stayagain,continuing to put her life on hold, but maybe that’s what you want? Because you’ll be here too. The only man in town who’s ever caught her attention, willing to help her keep her head barely above water.”
My chest rises in defiance. “I wanther,” I say, pointing toward the direction of the A-frame with my arm extended at my side. “And if she wants me too, well, that’d be fantastic! The best thing to happen to me, bar none. But that doesn’tactuallymatter. The only thing that matters is that staying here isherdecision to make and she can’t make an informed decision without all the information. The information youandI are both holding back from her.”
“Then tell me, since you seem to know everything, how do I look my only child in the eye and tell her I can’t look after her properly anymore? That she has struck out in the parents department? Thattwoof us are falling apart?” He laughs brokenly, his lips quivering. “Tell me! Since you make it sound so easy!” Tom’s jaw trembles as he walks over to the check-out counter, then leans over it, holding himself up with his forearms on the desk as he begins to weep into his hands.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, folding and unfolding my arms in front of my chest. This is, undoubtedly, the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been. Yet, I don’t feel like running, as I normally would. I wait, trying to find the right words or timing when I doubt it’ll ever come, and when I can no longer stand there listening without saying something, I speak. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to imply that it would be easy to—”
“No, no,” Tom says softly, rubbing his forehead with an open palm. “No, Milo…It’s…It’s me who should be apologizing.”
I approach slowly, stopping to stand next to the shelf of mostly outdated magazines at the end of the counter. “I know she’s your daughter, and you want to take care of her, but…Prue is strong. She’s tough as nails. I mean,shit,she scared the crap out of me when I first met her and she’s practically half my size. She’ll handle whatever life throws at her. And she loves you. She loves the both of you so deeply because you—” I choke, then clear my throat. “Because you gave her such a good life. You were good to her. Let her be good to you.”
“That’s not her job,” Tom says.
“No, but it’s what we do for the people we love. We step in. We show up.”
“It’s such a mess,” he says, standing. He rolls his eyes at himself, wiping the last remnants of tears away as he chuckles under his breath. Then, he turns toward me. “It was never supposed to be this way.”
“I know, sir. I’m sorry.” We exchange weary glances until Tom cocks his head to look at me, taking me in at a new angle.
“You’re good at that, you know.”
“What?” I ask.
“Stepping in. Showing up, like you said.”
I shake my head. “No, I—”
“You’re here, aren’t you? For your brother and his family?”
I nod.
