Leave the Living Read Online Free Page B

his nephew and sparkled even in the dim light, a hesitant smile forming under a drooping nose blotched with broken veins.
    “Mickey, damn boy, you look great,” Gary said, standing from his perch. He held out a large hand, and Mick took it in his own, feeling the rough calluses and cuts on the other man’s fingers.
    “Thanks, Uncle Gary, you too.”
    Gary laughed and shook his head. “You don’t have to bullshit me, kiddo. I got a mirror in my house same as you do. I know I look like hell.”
    Mick started to disagree, but the older man waved his words away and motioned to a stool.
    “Getcha a drink?”
    “I shouldn’t, it’s—” too early, he began to say, but cut his words off, both because he realized who he was speaking to and because he’d already been drinking today, much earlier than this.
    “Oh, it’s okay, Mickey. I know it’s too early to be drinkin’, but for me this is a late start.” Gary tried to smile, and it fell short into a grimace.
    “I’ll have one, just a beer,” Mick said, taking a seat beside his uncle.
    “Atta’ boy.”
    Gary signaled to the bartender that stood at the far end of the bar watching a small TV that had been muted, newscasters mouthing unheard words. After his beer had been poured and the bartender returned to his program, Mick turned a little on his stool, taking in his uncle’s haggard profile, so like his father’s and yet so different.
    “Why didn’t you call me?” Mick asked, gripping the beer glass harder than he meant to. “I had to hear it from the sheriff.”
    “God, I’m sorry, kiddo. I really am. I had a bad day at the casino and was on a bender yesterday. I barely woke up when the deputy came to my door last night. When he told me”—Gary sighed, raising his glass to his mouth to take a deep pull from its rim—“I lost it. There was no way I would’ve been able to call ya and say what needed to be said. I’m sorry.”
    The flare of anger he’d felt at hearing Gary’s voice on the phone, and furthered by his appearance at the bar, faded and winked out like an ember alighting on snow. His uncle’s stark honesty was somehow refreshing. Mick took a drink of his beer and nodded once.
    “I understand. I forget sometimes how close you two were.”
    “Yeah, we…” Gary fumbled for a moment and blinked away a film of tears. “…we were good friends, that’s for sure.”
    Mick reached out and put a hand on his uncle’s shoulder, squeezing once before letting go.
    “I have to say, it’s good to see you, kid. It’s been years, right?”
    “I know. I’m sorry I never had time to stop by when I visited, though I didn’t get up here as much as I wanted to either.”
    “Life gets in the way, as they say. How’s your boy? Aaron, right?”
    “Yes. He’s good. He’s progressing on his therapy, and he actually took a few steps with a walker the other day.”
    “Muscular dystrophy, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah,” Mick said, taking another sip of beer. “He’s in his wheelchair most of the time, but he gets around pretty good.”
    “That’s great. And Cambri, how’s she doing?”
    Mick paused and finished his beer in one long swallow. “She’s getting married tomorrow.”
    Gary stared at him, perhaps waiting for a punch line. When none came, he shook his head. “Ah, shit, sorry I asked.”
    “It’s okay. The guy she’s with is great, wonderful with Aaron, and he makes her happy. Something I couldn’t seem to do.”
    “Story of my life, kiddo. Linda left me high and dry, well, not entirely dry,” he said, swirling the last of his drink around in the nearly empty glass. “Took most of what I owned and everything that I’d bought her and moved on. I don’t even know why. That’s before I drank as much as I do now, mind you. Women are one of God’s great mysteries, just like the Bermuda Triangle—to be avoided at all costs.”
    Mick couldn’t help but huff a small laugh.
    The bartender approached and motioned to his empty beer