Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,31
had unrealistic expectations.
Having any expectations at all was taboo, and here I couldn’t stop looking at him, cataloguing the changes I was seeing and caring too much.
“Hey, Luke. I’m glad you came.” He held the screen door open for me, and I stepped inside.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” I didn’t give him the gift bag. “Is Dr. Franklin around?”
“Yeah. He’s in the kitchen making coffee. This way.” He led me into the large kitchen where Dr. Franklin and a couple of others were laying out cups, napkins, and cookies. Dr. Franklin turned, saw us, and smiled.
“You made it.” He came over to give me a hearty handshake. “Good to see you again.”
“Thank you.” I turned to Tug and asked, “Can I have a minute with Dr. Franklin?”
Looking confused, Tug nevertheless nodded shyly and said, “I’ll be in the meeting room.”
He left, and I addressed the doctor. “I brought some things for Tug, but I wanted to run them past you first.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” He took the bag from me and emptied its contents onto the counter. Phone card, envelopes, stamps, stationery, and a big bag of Haribo Gold-Bears.
He laughed. “It’s all fine. Gummy bears are currency around here.”
“Okay. Cool.” I repacked the gift bag and went to join him.
In the parlor, the farm table had been moved to one side, and in its place there was a circle of folding chairs.
I counted fifteen seats. The facility didn’t house that many men. Of the number they had, only some of those would be seeing their families today. The evening promised to be intimate and emotional. To ease the tension, I gave Tug his present.
“This is for you.”
“Really?” He gaped at me.
“It’s no big deal.” My cheeks heated. “Just some stuff I thought you might like. You got your thirty-day chip?”
“Yeah.” He took it from his pocket to show me.
“That’s a huge step.”
He nodded slowly as if thinking about it made him speechless. I fished for something else to say.
“You look good.” I amended that to, “Healthier.”
“No longer half-dead?”
I wiggled my hand. “So-so.”
“You look good too.” A middle-aged couple came in then, guided by a boy of about nineteen. They sat in the circle without speaking, the woman between the older and younger man.
The mom—if that’s who she was—wore jeans, a print blouse, and an anxious expression. Her men were stone-faced on either side. As other people filtered into the room, the atmosphere seemed to get more oppressive. I’d been in groups where people laughed and joked among themselves, and this wasn’t like that at all.
If the space had a flavor, it would have been… cassoulet. Not at the end, when you’ve cracked the final crust and let the steam out, but when you first put it in the oven and the ingredients have barely been seared, much less stewed together and rendered down to become the final dish.
“What’s that look?” Tug asked.
“Just thinking about French food.”
“Oh my God, you’re just as weird as I thought.” He led me to two chairs and sat, digging into his present. “No, for real? You got me a phone card?”
“So you don’t have to borrow.”
“And stickers?” He held up the forever postage stamps I’d included and smirked. “I’ve never seen any like these before.”
“They go with the envelopes and paper. I’m sure Dr. Franklin will show you how to use them. It’s not as hard as a Nintendo Switch.”
“But what do they do?” He widened his eyes.
“They’re used in arcane magic spells. If you do it properly, they make the steering wheels on little trucks move to the wrong side.”
He laughed, and then he pulled out the gummy candies. “Oh yeah. That’s what I’m talking about. I love these.”
“I’m glad.”
“This is really nice.” He put everything primly back into the bag and slipped it under his chair. “You’re awesome. Thank you.”
“Congratulations again.”
He dropped his gaze. “You didn’t think I’d make it this far.”
“I didn’t know,” I admitted. “I’m very glad you did.”
That got me a small smile.
More people filtered in. Grandmothers, sisters, uncles, cousins, and friends. We had to get five more chairs. Then Dr. Franklin opened the room for discussion.
The Tug sitting next to me bore no resemblance at all to the man I’d known at the Palm Court. He was shy and reserved. He didn’t have a lot to say. When someone shared about their struggle, he listened. Occasionally he teared up.
When the meeting was nearly at an end, I assumed he wasn’t going to speak. Then Dr. Franklin addressed him