Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Here was yet another reminder that I hadn’t told Tammy all that she deserved to know. The very last person I wanted to introduce her to was Porter. My dad’s offhand comment the night before had been bad enough. Tammy hadn’t brought it up again, though I was sure she must be wondering about it. Now Porter, with his drunken invitations to buy drugs, was sitting right in front of us.
Porter waved right at us, and I had no choice but to play along. I put on my best “reunited with an old friend” smile and steered Tammy toward the table.
“Mike!” Porter stood up.
“Porter.” I tried to summon the same enthusiasm. “Tammy, this is Porter. He’s an old friend. Porter, this is Tammy.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tammy said, offering her hand.
Porter took it and shook with an appropriate amount of vigor. “Sit with me,” he demanded.
I couldn’t think of a way out, so I sat down opposite my old friend, making space for Tammy beside me. Thankfully it was one of the other waitresses assigned to our table, so I wouldn’t have a double helping of awkward conversation.
“So how did you guys meet?” Porter asked.
“We met at the Lucky Lady,” I said.
Porter grinned. “Good place. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, though.”
I looked up from my menu. Something about the way he made that last statement gave me pause. His words were clear, his energy normal. Did he mean he was staying away from bars in general or just the Lady? There didn’t seem to be a polite way to ask him in front of Tammy, so I kept my questions to myself.
“What do you do?” Porter asked Tammy.
“I work at the Wood Rose Salon. I’m a receptionist,” Tammy said. “What do you do?”
“I work at the grocery store, night stocker,” he said.
Another difference: I had never known Porter to have legitimate employment. Was he turning his life around? I relaxed. It seemed like my friend was sober for once and that maybe he had been sober for some time now. The chances of him messing up and saying something rude had decreased significantly. I put in an order for eggs and toast with a side of bacon and actually enjoyed myself.
“How’s Millie?” I asked tentatively, curious but anxious that asking would open up a discussion of drugs and partying.
Porter seemed to understand that Tammy wasn’t clued in and gently avoided the dangerous topics. “We parted ways,” he said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sincerely.
He shrugged. “To each his own.”
Our food arrived, and we ate in friendly silence. Or rather, Porter and I ate. Every time I glanced over at Tammy, the same amount of food remained on her plate. She had ordered fruit salad and a muffin, a tiny brunch to begin with. In fifteen minutes, she had picked a few bites off the muffin and swallowed one strawberry. She had told me she thought she was coming down with something but had seemed fine yesterday. Maybe she was just nervous about car shopping or meeting Porter. I wanted to ask, but there didn’t seem to be a way to introduce the topic with other people present.
Porter and I finished our meals without incident. We reminisced about the past, but only the sanitized version. He never once mentioned drug use or any of the sketchy situations we had found ourselves in. I couldn’t thank him enough. I wanted to, but in fact, I couldn’t thank him at all. The only thing I could do was smile and hope Porter knew how grateful I was for keeping our secret.
“I gotta go,” Porter said finally, peeling a ten out of his pocket and leaving it on the table.
“I thought you said you worked nights,” I reminded him.
“I do. But I’m meeting some friends for a… discussion.” He slid out from the booth.
“Like a book club?” Tammy wondered.
More like AA, I thought. But Porter just nodded. “See you around.”
When we were finally alone, I wanted to ask Tammy how she was feeling, but I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. We hadn’t actually shared that many meals together, and we had never eaten breakfast or lunch in each other’s company. What if she had no appetite before noon? I didn’t want to put the spotlight on her if she wasn’t comfortable. She would tell me herself if she wasn’t feeling well, so I let it be.
“He seems nice,” Tammy said.
I nodded.
“I haven’t met any of your friends.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. How could I explain that all my friends had deserted me when I went to jail? Any attempt to dance around the subject just seemed hollow or painted me in a bad light. I had grown up in this town; surely, I had friends.
“They’ve all moved away,” I lied.