Memories always flood me when I pull up in front of Zach’s childhood home. I can almost hear us shouting at one another as we ran in and out of that front door, the screen clattering shut behind us. A hollowness moves from my throat to my gut. His birthday is this month. We celebrated in his back yard on years when the weather was nice. Otherwise, parties were in his basement.
I lug my toolbox up to the front door and knock.
Mrs. Kinkaid opens the door with a welcoming smile.
“I’m so glad you made time for this,” she says. “You know you can pop by without a mission to fix something.”
“Why not fix something if I can?”
“I’m not complaining,” she says, walking ahead of me toward the dining room.
“This is the light. I probably shouldn’t have gotten a dimmer switch, but I liked to use it when we blew out the candles on the birthday cakes for the boys. And, every so often we’d have a candlelight dinner for no reason.”
“I remember,” I tell her. “And it’s his month.”
I’m not always so bold. Hallie’s rubbing off on me.
“It is,” she says, looking around the room, seeing all the years we spent around this table in a glance.
“It’s always a little bit hard on me,” she says with a softness to her voice.
“How can I help?”
“You already help me, Greyson. I love when you stop by, but I wouldn’t want you here all the time. I know you’re a grown man with a life. It’s not your job to fill in the blanks.”
“No one could fill them—especially not me,” I admit.
Zach was larger than life. The hole he left is the Grand Canyon.
“Don’t try to fill his place,” she says. “Fill yours. You matter, just because you’re you. And Zach would be glad you’re still here, stopping in on me.”
My throat tightens and I swallow the soft lump before answering her.
“I don’t just stop by to assuage guilt. I like it here.”
“And you like my sweet tea.”
“Busted,” I tell her, taking a sip from the glass she set out for me.
I turn off the power at the breaker and check the wire connections. Mrs. Kinkaid stands out of the way, watching me and chatting about volunteering at the community center.
“Looks like a wire nut is loose,” I tell her.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” she says with a smile.
“Really?”
“No, Greyson. I don’t know the first thing about what you’re talking about.”
I chuckle. “Well, that’s why you have me.” I step down the ladder, switching out my tool.
“I have you because the good Lord loves me enough to give me people like you in my life,” she says easily.
In a moment of unusual spontaneity, I step over to her and pull her into a hug. She leans in and gives me a squeeze.
“Well, now,” she says, stepping back and studying my face. “That was sweet.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I say, smiling down at her.
