Page 116 of York

“Endearing you to me, so when you’re super rich, you might consider buying me a sweet ride?”

“Don’t listen to him,” York said, coming down the hallway, shaking his head. “He’s on punishment, so I’m taking advantage of the free labor.”

“On punishment? Again? What did you do?”

“Listen, if entering in a float competition for the town parade was against the rules, there should have been a sign.”

“Oh, God. What was on the float?”

York reached up, rubbing the back of his neck, looking downright bashful.

“Stripper poles and live dancers,” he told me.

“There are children at the town parade!”

“That’s why they were dressed as teachers!” Spiro said, shaking his head.

“Oh, Lord.”

“He just barely skated by without getting charged,” York admitted.

“How can you have gotten in this much trouble in such a short period of time?”

“Now you know how I managed to max out my sentence in prison,” Spiro said, not looking the least bit penitent. “Well, your home is spotless. There is a load in the wash and one in the dryer, and I made a note of supplies you’re running low on. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, pulling off the gloves. “I have to go organize Che’s garage.”

With that, he made his way out of the apartment.

“Was the float at least good?” I asked when he was gone.

“He built desks, giant pencils out of painted and shaved pool noodles, and made the entire side borders with fake schoolbooks. It was fucking incredible. I have no idea how he even had the time.”

“He’s such a character,” I said. “Well, there goes my whole afternoon. I planned to do a deep clean.”

“I can think of a way we can spend a few hours,” he said, grabbing my hips and pulling me close.

York - 2 years

I walked out the back door to find Denali sitting on the side of a chaise beside an orange-haired Maud. Both had skeins of yarn at their sides. Denali had her tongue between her teeth as she worked giant plastic knitting needles with chunky purple yarn. Maud wasn’t much faster with her arthritic fingers.

It was nice to see her with Denali, who didn’t have a grandparent figure.

I knew Maud got a lot out of it since her children didn’t bring their children down to see her. She connected mostly over phone or video calls. She craved connection with the next generation. And Runa and I really loved watching Denali absorb the love, stories, insights, and skills of older generations.

She’d picked up so much from the retirement community across the street. She’d spent an afternoon making pasta from scratch with Eddie and Maria, who hailed from Italy. She’d been invited to help make jam with a bunch of the ladies. She helped one of the older men make a duck on a stick with little leather feet on wheels that slapped the ground as you pushed it. She was working on making her very own quilt with another of the women. And had become a pretty good birdwatcher with another of the men.

Denali had really bloomed in the club, making tons of friends, finding aunts and uncles in the bikers and their wives, and finding adoptive grandparents.

“Oh, your father is here,” Maud said, giving me a smile.

“Daddy, look!” Denali said, holding up her knitting.

“You’re doing great,” I told her. “But maybe we should let Maud have a little break.” Then, knowing she would complain, I added, “Eddie is making tacos.”

Those were the magic words.

She flew inside, and Maud took a moment to put her knitting away along with Denali’s before she reached into her purse, found a joint, and lit it.

“Don’t you lecture me. It helps with the joint pain.”