No Hiding in Boise by Kim Hooper

Author:Kim Hooper [Hooper, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Turner Publishing Company
Published: 2021-06-14T18:30:00+00:00

RICK REED

VICTIM #4

I’M GOING TO MISS the guys when we move. I need to tell them soon—tonight, maybe. Sherry and I met with our Realtor today. We’re ready to pull the trigger, put the house on the market. We’ve owned it outright for twenty years, and the housing market in Boise has gone bananas, so we should make a few hundred grand on the sale. That will be enough for a shack in California. I suppose that’s all we need.

Sherry’s had this dream of retiring in California for as long as I’ve known her. I thought it would vanish, like so many dreams do over the years, but it hasn’t. I don’t really want to move. I’ve always lived in Boise. But I owe it to her. She’s been good to me all these years. When we got my Parkinson’s diagnosis, she didn’t flinch. She just said, “Okay, what do we need to do?” She knows all about the latest clinical studies, the latest medications. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

It makes sense to move now. The kids are both out of state. It still baffles me that they are functioning adults with jobs and spouses. We raised them right, all the while feeling like we had no idea what we were doing. What a relief it would have been to have a Magic 8 Ball during all those years when we lost sleep wondering what mistakes we were making.

Now I lose sleep about different things. The Parkinson’s, how much time I have left. Nobody knows for sure. It depends on how fast the disease progresses. Sherry says California will be good for me—winters won’t be as cold, summers won’t be as hot. She wants to make it a goal to put our feet in the ocean every day. She has visions of eating healthier food, laughing more. We’re going to rent a condo in San Clemente. We already have a complex picked out, about a mile from the beach. Then we’ll see about buying that shack.

I’M THE FIRST one at Ray’s tonight. As I take a seat at what’s become Our Table, I get a little choked up thinking about not coming here every Thursday. The guys always give me grief for being the softy. It’s nice to be old, to not give a shit what people think. I’m no longer a man who’s ashamed of his occasional tears.

Cliff and Randy show up at the same time. They are talking about how Cliff’s son just got a big finance job in Manhattan. All of us are dumbfounded by the successes of our children. We’ve all been spared major problems. The teenage years were challenging—that’s when we started these guys’ nights—but nothing abnormal. Somehow, everyone has turned out okay. We are in the clear now. We can breathe sighs of relief, drink beers, enjoy the golden years. I’d dare to say this is the happiest time of my life—even with the Parkinson’s. I’d say the same for Cliff and Randy.

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