Give the Dog a Bone

Debby used to say those were very good years. What she says about them now, I wouldn’t know. I called her father in August when I was in town. He asked if I still golfed. People I haven’t spoken with for a time tend to ask if I still golf. I had hoped that Debby’s father would assume I was interested in an update on Debby, thereby saving me the humiliation of having to request one. He asked where I lived, how my parents were doing, and what I thought about the American League wildcard race. He asked if I still golfed.

Sometimes, I said. Not that much anymore.

I don’t get out much these days myself, he said.

It’s a funny game, I said.

Well, he said, it was nice hearing from you.

I ate dinner at my sister’s, and took her out for a drink at The Cascades. Michelle was behind the bar. My sister said, You remember Michelle don’t you? I said, Of course I remember Michelle. I said, How you doing Michelle? Still here, Michelle said.

My sister took the car home and I waited for Michelle to get off work. We sat in her car in the parking lot and made out. Our hands went places they’d never been before, although the places seemed familiar. It was like walking through a house on a television show you’d been watching for years. We stopped, and she said, This is a little foolish. I suppose it is, I said.

What if you close your eyes and pretend I’m Debby? she said.

Who’ll you pretend I am? I said.

Debby, she said.

We gave it a try, and for about twenty seconds it almost worked. Then Michelle started the car and drove to Katys Pond. We took off our clothes, swam to the far shore, and sat on the rocks there, listening to our teeth chatter. This isn’t even a memory, she said. You can’t make a memory, I said.

It was well past dawn and my sister was making coffee when Michelle dropped me off. She said Bobby had called with news. He said it was okay to tell you, she said.

He did, I said.

You must be thrilled, she said. A grandfather.

I poured a cup of coffee and searched the cupboards for some Irish crème whiskey. I was thrilled to death.