The Old Place by Bobby Finger

Author:Bobby Finger [Finger, Bobby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

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The nicest thing about Wednesday dinner at the Compound was that Josie and Travis didn’t have to plan a single aspect of the meal. All that was required of them was to show up by six-thirty. There was no pressure to bring wine or beer or a dessert, and Josie never felt a shred of guilt for showing up empty-handed. Surprisingly enough, this wasn’t one of those scenarios that would lead to years of building resentment, and some enormous meltdown a decade from now in which Josie would be branded as lazy or, worse, thoughtless. Faye just wanted to spend time with them, and thanks to young Henry, Wednesday dinner was as pure and expectation-free as an invitation could get. The love of a grandparent can be suffocating and irrational, formed without the torments of daily caretaking, but indisputable in its authenticity. And though Faye was currently acting as a sort of day care, taking care of him from 7:30 a.m. to 4:45 p.m., Henry was due to start school next fall and she saw the next nine months as the gift of a lifetime. To have Travis and Josie over for dinner once a week was the icing on the cake. But Faye’s happiness, though centered around Henry, was, in her eyes, thanks entirely to Josie’s sacrifice. That she agreed to leave her own family and bring that child to Billington made her immune from any criticism they could ever dole out, not that any had been festering in their pockets. To them, Josie was a hero. And that was something Josie was more than happy to let them believe.

The second nicest thing about Wednesday dinner at the Compound was that it gave Josie and Travis a rare hour or so of private time. There was no need to pick Henry up before dinner since he was already at his grandmother’s, which hadn’t crossed Josie’s mind until arriving home that day and feeling an instant calm once stepping inside the kitchen. No afternoon snack, no running around the coffee table, just Travis cracking open two Shiner Bocks in the kitchen.

“Home before me!”

“Been here for ten minutes,” he said. “But I waited for you.” He placed both beers in koozies and held one back for ransom: a chaste, closed-mouth kiss. Once satisfied, he handed a beer to Josie.

“Do you hear that?” Josie said, putting her free hand to her ear and stretching her neck toward the rest of the house.

“No . . .” Travis said.

“Exactly.”

“Good one. Real original.”

Josie smiled coyly and took a sip of her beer, then pulled it back to examine the koozie Travis had chosen. A brewery in Red Hook, Brooklyn, where they’d gone on one of their first dates.

“When do we have to leave?” she said.

Travis looked down at his wristwatch, a vintage silver piece owned by her paternal grandfather that she’d gotten restored for their first anniversary. Thinking it ostentatious, no man in his family—or even his life—had ever worn a Rolex; he didn’t wear it for weeks.

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