Blue Jeans and Coffee Beans (9 page)

“Can’t you get a job at the casinos?” Jason asks. “They must need chefs in the restaurants there. They’re busy.”

“I don’t have that kind of experience. You know,” he says. “I’ve got The Dockside.” Kyle pauses. “I need a cigarette.”

“That’s bullshit. You haven’t smoked in years,” Jason says.

“I think I’ll start up again, what the hell. I read it’s easier to quit the second time around, okay?”

Jason gives him an irritated look. “Where’d you read that shit?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like a smoke. You got a fucking problem with that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Jason tells him. “Just calm down already.”

Matt sips his drink, watching Kyle put his away before reaching over for the pitcher, topping off his glass and adding more to Jason’s. He perspires the whole time. “I don’t know how you do it on one income,” Matt says, shifting in the booth. “Eva’s taking over the real estate business pays a lot of bills. It’s a good thing you’ve got Jerry and that diner in the meantime.”

“What a goldmine he’s sitting on,” Kyle says. “He bought that place for next to nothing back in the day. You could do shit like that back then.”

“It’s different today,” Jason says.

Matt turns sideways and leans against the window ledge, looking Jason dead on. The heavy curtains behind him block out any sense of outside life. “And what about you?”

“What about me? I have a job.”

“You need someone to keep you out of dumps like this one.”

“How about Maris?” Kyle suggests.

“Maris?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Maris got away a lifetime ago. The small town girl went big city.” Jason turns his glass on the table.

“Then what the hell’s she doing hanging around here all summer?” Kyle asks.

“Doesn’t matter,” Matt says. “Eva says she’s got some big job offer in New York, and some corporate dude waiting for her back in Chicago.”

“Maybe she does, maybe not,” Kyle says. “She didn’t seem spoken for on the Fourth.”

Jason stands. “Let’s shoot some pool.”

“Grab another pitcher,” Kyle tells him.

Jason turns and sizes him up when Matt catches his eye. “One more,” Matt says, sliding out of the booth. He walks behind Jason to the bar and puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him back a step from Kyle. “He’s screwed up tonight.”

“Is everything okay?” Eva asks when Lauren calls looking for Kyle.

“I hope so. I just want to be sure the guys are all right. Kyle left here really pissed off.”

Eva hears the worry in her voice. “Did you call his cell?”

“Yeah, right. I wish. We cancelled our service. Would you have him call me if he shows up there?”

So Eva checks in with Matt, but he can’t talk and tells her he’ll call back when he gets a chance. And when Kyle’s pickup pulls into the driveway, Eva definitely knows something is wrong when she sees Matt driving, with Jason pulling in behind them. Kyle practically falls out from the passenger side and trips coming through the doorway.

“Easy, man. Easy.” Jason grabs Kyle’s shoulders from behind and steers him to a chair on the porch. “Sit down and stay down.”

“Eva. Place looks great,” Kyle says, motioning to the freshly sheet-rocked wall. “Really great.” Then he sits back and closes his eyes. His face looks pasty and his brown hair disheveled. Jason stands beside him, as though blocking him from going inside the house.

Matt walks in and motions her back into the living room. “Would you put on a pot of coffee? Kyle’s so shot, man, he’s not going anywhere tonight.”

She heads to the kitchen with Matt following her to the counter. “What are you doing risking a DWI for those two?” she finally asks, not turning around. “You put your job on the line for them.”

“It’s not like that. I’m fine, really,” he says, turning her and taking her hands in his.

“Well where the hell have you guys been? Lauren’s called everywhere looking for Kyle.”

“We ran into Jason at The Sand Bar.”

“The Sand Bar? See? I knew I smelled liquor on you.”

“Come on, you know me better than that. I only had a couple.”

She checks his eyes. They are clear. So are his words. “The designated driver?”

“Something like that.”

“Why didn’t you at least call me?”

“We had our hands full with Kyle.”

“We?”

“Jason, too. He’s fine. It’s Kyle who’s a mess. It’s taking the both of us to keep him relatively conscious.”

“Well what about Lauren? She’s waiting up for him.”

“He can’t drive, that’s for sure.” Matt glances over his shoulder when Kyle starts moving around on the porch.

“And I don’t want him here, waking up Taylor,” Eva says harshly.

Jason leans into the kitchen doorway. “Hey, Matt. Kyle’s going outside to clear his head. Give me a hand, would you?”

“I’ll catch up. Don’t let him get far.” He turns back to Eva. “Can you call Lauren? Tell her his truck broke down or something and he’s spending the night here. Or at Barlow’s.”

“What if she wants to talk to him?”

“Make something up. Tell her we’re outside working on the truck.” Matt starts to leave, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve got to help Barlow.”

“Want me to make something to eat? It’ll soak up the alcohol.”

“Not now,” Matt says, rushing out. “Maybe later, with coffee. Just call Lauren.”

Eva fills the coffee pot with water and measures in the scoops of coffee. The house is still, so still, now that the guys left. It’s that same kind of stillness that falls upon a steamy, humid summer day, the kind that makes you alert, that draws attention to something happening that you can’t really see yet.

“Hey! Wait up,” Jason calls after Kyle heading down the beach.

Kyle spins around once, eyes Jason, then keeps walking.

The beach is dark and the waves choppy with the high tide coming in. Kyle sits himself in the sand near the water, kicks off his work boots and rolls up his pant legs. All the while, he never stops talking to himself.

Jason catches up to him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking my shoes off. What’s it fucking look like?”

Jason hears the words slur. “No swimming,” he warns him. It’s bad enough that Kyle is drunk. Drunk and drowned they don’t need.

“Shut up and leave me alone,” Kyle says under his breath.

Jason watches him for a second before trying just that. He walks down the quiet beach, and just like he thought, it doesn’t take long for Kyle to spook. He pulls himself up and jogs barefoot to catch up.

“Hey. It’s Lauren who wants to be alone. Not me.”

“Yeah, right. It’s all Lauren’s fault, guy.”

They walk half the length of the beach. Kyle sloshes ankle deep in the breaking waves, but Jason stays on the packed sand further up. The firmer sand eases his gait. As long as he hears Kyle talking to himself and wading in the water behind him, he’ll be all right. Kyle just might walk it off and sober up that way.

“Hey!” Matt eventually calls from behind them. “Eva’s making coffee, let’s go.”

Jason turns back and heads toward the boardwalk. “You ready for a coffee?”

Kyle tries to follow, but stumbles and falls in the shallow water. “Damn it,” he says, moving out deeper, splashing and falling again as he struggles to stand with unsteady feet pulled by the waves.

Jason turns to see Kyle wet head to toe, on his knees in the water. “Come on, you idiot,” he says as he wades into the dark water. The worst thing for his prosthesis is to get it wet, but Kyle needs serious help. With the rising tide, the water nearly reaches his knees by the time he gets to Kyle. He lifts him by an arm, pulls it around his shoulder and tries to stand him up without losing his own balance. Kyle stands taller than Jason and is clumsy in the water, nearly falling to the side. They stumble through the waves back onto the beach.

“That’s enough already, Kyle. You’re really screwing up my leg. Now stay out of the damn water!” Jason gets him far up onto the sand and shoves him in the direction of the boardwalk.

Lights illuminate the long boardwalk at either end, and Matt sits waiting for them. He watches the two men emerge from the shadows. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do now?” he asks. “Go swimming?”

Kyle climbs up onto the boardwalk and sits dripping beside him. “I fucked up, man.”

Kyle smells like the ocean and it is enough to move Matt over a few inches. Jason sits on the edge of the boardwalk itself, rather than on the bench that runs along it. He looks exhausted. “Hey Barlow. You work in the barn today?” Matt asks.

Jason turns sideways while brushing sand off his prosthetic leg, glancing up at Kyle, too. “All afternoon.”

“Must be shaping up. You need a hand with it?”

“Anytime.” He bends over, still trying to clean off his leg. “There’s a lot of paint scraping left to do.”

“I think Lauren’s leaving me,” Kyle says. He sits back and drops his hands in his lap.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Jason tells him.

“You don’t understand,” Kyle continues. “She doesn’t love me anymore.”

Jason sits back then, looking at the Sound spread out in front of them, the moonlight catching ripples in the water. “She loves you just fine, Kyle,” he says over his shoulder. “Who could resist?”

“No she doesn’t,” he says. “I can tell.” He turns around and looks at the boat basin behind the boardwalk, his hands hanging over the seat back.

“You’re going through some hard times,” Matt adds. “She’ll come around.”

“She won’t even sleep with me. I heard on a talk show that fifty percent of marriages end in divorce today.”

“Never mind those talk shows.” Matt stands and turns then, resting a knee on the seat. “You’ve just got to straighten up, man. Fly right, you know. Take control.” He runs his hand over the names and initials carved into the boardwalk’s weathered wood. Behind him, the boat basin, a pretty good-sized marina, holds about fifty boats in a circle. At the far end, it narrows to a wide creek that feeds the lagoon, and on the other it widens and flows out to the Sound. But the marina itself is a safe harbor for the boats and the swans. He looks over the top edge of the rail, directly down to the concrete walkway below that the boaters take to get to their docked vessels. A fine layer of sand covers the concrete. If he squints a little and focuses, especially on a night like this, oh there are ghosts down below too, images from the past, shadows running by the boats, hushed voices whispering.

Now, in the dark, rising and falling imperceptibly against their moorings, the subtle pull of the current brings the boats to life as they creak against the pilings. Matt turns to Jason. “Hey. Remember when we were about twelve?”

“I don’t think I was ever twelve.”

“Yeah. You were. It was a long time ago, but I remember. You and Neil had that little Boston Whaler. Remember we’d take it out and horse around on the Sound?”

Matt takes a step, listening to the boats creaking and those hushed voices and laughter from the past. As he walks, his hand runs along the damp top rail of the boardwalk. Like reading brail, the initials, dates and messages carved into the wood speak to his hand. Somewhere along the way, he knows he passes over MG & E, knicked deep into the wood. He takes his time walking down the boardwalk, giving Kyle a chance to sober up. At the far end, Maris walks up the granite stairs with her dog.