It was sleeting when Harrison woke up the next morning. He dressed and went into the kitchen. There was no sign of dog or woman. He decided to go into the nearest small town and pick up some pastries. There wasn’t much to choose from, so he was back soon. Still no sight of Amy or Duchess.
Harrison helped himself to two of the pastries—because what was protein?—then sat down at the dining room table to eat them with some coffee. He mulled over his options for the day. He didn’t think he could sit here in sleet and rain all day thinking of Amy. He knew himself, and knew he’d end up bothering her. He wouldn’t be able to resist going to the little studio to see what she was doing.
He was annoying himself. He polished off the first pastry and called his mother.
She picked up on the first ring. “Harrison, my love! Howareyou?” she trilled into the phone.
“Good, Mom. How are—”
“I am so busy!” she said before he could get the question out. “I can’t believe what all must be done before we leave on our cruise. And your father is no help. You know him, he practically lives on that golf course.”
“Right,” Harrison said. So did he. He didn’t have a lot of other places to go.
“Now tell me, what are your holiday plans?” she asked. He could hear something like the sound of paper tearing in the background.
“I’m in Texas,” he said.
“Oh. Girlfriend?” she asked casually amid the sound of more paper rattling.
“Um…no. Just chilling.” She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t seem curious about why he was in Texas of all places. “What are you doing, Mom?”
“Wrapping gifts. I sent your gift to Clay, by the way, did he tell you?”
“To Clay?”
“He suggested it. He said it was easier than trying to pin you down to an address.”
Another reason to kick Clay’s ass. He had an address. He even had mail forwarding.
“I could have sent it to that condo in Florida, but you never seem to be there.”
Harrison didn’t know what to say to that. He traveled a lot, but when he didn’t, he was in his condo. He’d come to Texas just to get away. “Speaking of being somewhere, I was thinking of coming to California. I mean, when you get back from your cruise.”
“Oh, lovely! Are you playing a tournament here? That will make your father happy.”
“No, no tournament. Just to see my folks,” he said.
“Well that would be nice. I’m so sorry, Harrison, but I have to get you off the phone! We leave in two days and have so much yet to do. Love you!”
“Love you,” he said, and listened to the line go dead.
He recalled a time when she’d desperately wanted him home for the holidays, but Harrison had been out living his grand life and had made excuses. His mother had quit waiting for him. And now here he was, staring at fifty, wanting his mother to want him home. “Merry Christmas, Mom,” he muttered into the dead line.
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. He felt a little teary-eyed.Everyone in his life had quit waiting for him. Well, except Clay, who was determined to wait for him no matter what. But honestly, Harrison couldn’t remember ever feeling so terribly alone as he did in this moment. Maybe he was suffering from the holiday blues. Or was it just life finally catching up to him? Perhaps the fact that fifty was beginning to feel like a Really Big Deal?
The rain was adding to his doldrums.
He stared out the window and thought about the mom with the blind dog who was painting something. He imagined Bob Ross, which, regrettably, was his only frame of reference for art.
The ring of his phone startled him; Harrison picked it up and looked at the display.Clay. Like an alarm clock, this guy.
“Hey, boss, how’s the knee?” Clay said over some tinny Christmas music in the background when Harrison answered.
“Same as before,” Harrison said. He reached down and rubbed it. Damp days were the worst. “Where are you?”
“The mall with my girlfriend. Torture, man! Anyway, just making some calls. You’re doing your PT, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
