I don’t know who my dad is, he said. I never met him.
Didn’t you? What about your mother? Where’s she?
She died a long time ago.
Oh hell, she said. Listen to me. I’m sorry to hear that. Well, I’m sorry I ever said anything.
DJ looked past her into the backbar mirror, where he saw himself reflected above the ranks of bottles, and he saw her blonde head and the back of her white shirt in the mirror. He looked down and picked up his pencil.
You go on and do your schoolwork, she said. You just have to call if you need something. Will you be all right up here, do you think?
Yes, ma’am.
I’ll be right here if you need something.
Thank you.
You’re very welcome. She smiled. You know what? You and me could get to be good friends, do you think we could?
I guess so.
Well, that’s good enough. That’s being honest. She set the coffeepot on the hotplate and moved out from behind the bar again to work among the tables.
LATER A WOMAN WITH SHORT BROWN HAIR AND VERY blue eyes came to the end of the bar and stood beside DJ. Don’t I know you? she said. I’ve been watching you for half an hour.
I don’t know, he said.
Isn’t that your grandfather? Sitting over there with those other men?
Yes.
I took care of him at night. Don’t you remember? I saw you when you came in early before school one time. Before I went off duty.
Maybe so, he said.
Yes, I’m sure I did.
Then while she was standing beside him at the end of the bar, Raymond McPheron came in at the front door of the tavern.
Well, look at that, she said. This must be hospital reunion night. I didn’t think that man ever came out.
RAYMOND STOOD AND TOOK HIS GLOVES OFF AS HE looked around. He was wearing his silver-belly Bailey hat and his heavy canvas winter coat. He moved out of the doorway and stood behind the men sitting on the stools, waiting until the bartender noticed him.
What’s it going to be?
I’m deciding, Raymond said. What have you got on tap?
Coors and Budweiser and Bud Light.
Let me try a Coors.
The bartender drew the beer and handed it to him past a seated man and Raymond reached him a bill. The bartender made change at the cash register below the mirror and brought it back. Raymond took a drink and turned to look at the people sitting at the tables. He drank again and wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand, then unbuttoned his heavy coat.
The woman who had been standing beside DJ came up and tapped him on the shoulder and Raymond turned to look at her.
There’s room down here, she said. Why don’t you come join us? Raymond took off his hat, holding it in one hand. You remember me, don’t you? She smiled at him and took two little steps, as if she were dancing.
I’m starting to, he said. I’m going to say you must be Linda May from the hospital.
That’s right. You do remember. Come join us down here.
Where?
At the end of the bar. There’s someone else I think you know.
Raymond put his hat back on and followed her along the bar. The men turned on the barstools to look at him as he went by, watching him with the woman. She stopped beside DJ. How about this young man here? she said. Do you remember him?
I believe I do, Raymond said. This must be Walter Kephart’s grandson. I never got his name though.
DJ, the boy said.
How you doing, son?
Pretty good.
Is your grandfather here with you?
DJ pointed to the table against the far wall.
I see him now. How’s he doing? Is he doing pretty good too?
Yes sir. He got over his pneumonia.
Good, Raymond said. He looked at the boy again and noticed his papers on the bartop. Looks like we’re interrupting your schoolwork there. Maybe we better leave you to it.
I’m done. I’m just waiting on Grandpa, till he’s ready to go.
How soon you reckon that’s going to be?
I don’t know. He’s talking.
Old men like to talk, don’t they, Raymond said. He drank from his glass and glanced at the woman standing next to him.