“HEY, MR. WICKENS,” I said. “Timmy.” I extended a hand. “Good to see you. Thanks again for dinner last night.”
Timmy Wickens wasn’t buying it. His face seemed made of stone. He wasn’t even interested in talking to me, at least not yet. He had his eyes on May.
“You know where I found this boy of yours?” he said.
“I ran into Mr. Walker,” she said.
“Do you know where he was?”
“I had to go to the drugstore,” May said. “I had,” and she lowered her voice to a whisper, “some personal, feminine things to buy.”
“Where are they?” Timmy Wickens asked. “I don’t see a bag. Where’s the stuff you bought?”
“Do I have to empty my purse?” she said, trying to be indignant. “You want to haul out my box of tampons right here on the main street?”
He recoiled a bit at that, but he was ready to go in a different direction. He yanked on Jeffrey’s arm for dramatic effect. “I found him playing video games,” Timmy said, tightening his grip on the boy. I tried to catch the boy’s eye, but he was looking at the sidewalk.
“I gave him a few quarters,” May explained. “So I could run my errand. I didn’t think it would do any harm.”
“You know I won’t have him hanging around places like that. And this don’t exactly look like the drugstore to me,” he said, casting his eye across the front of Lana’s.
“I just ran in to get a coffee,” she said. “To go. To drink on the way home. And I saw Mr. Walker here.”
“That’s right, Timmy,” I said. “May was just—”
Timmy turned on me. “Am I talking to you right now?”
I took half a step back. “Hey, listen, back off—”
“Because I’m pretty sure I’m talking to her. When I’m talking to you, you’ll know it.”
Up the street, a horn honked. I could see Dad leaning over in the front of his truck, hitting the steering wheel.
“Daddy, stop being so rude to Mr. Walker. He just offered to buy me a coffee as a way of saying thank you for our having him and his father to dinner last night.”
“You been in there a long time being thanked,” Timmy said. “I been up and down this street twice looking for you. When you weren’t back soon, I went looking, and can you imagine what I thought when I saw my grandson standing in the doorway of a video game parlor? Can you?”
“I was just play—”
“Shut up, Jeffrey,” his grandfather said. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to your mother.”
“Honest to God, Dad,” May whispered. “We’re in public. Let’s just forget about this and go home.”
She grabbed Jeffrey’s hand out of her father’s and started down the sidewalk. She’d gone about five steps when she stopped and turned to say, “Thank you, Mr. Walker, for your kindness.”
I started to go, too, but Timmy Wickens suddenly had hold of my upper arm. His hand felt like a vise.
“Let go of me,” I said. I was full of rage, but a good part of me was rapidly turning to jelly.
With his free hand, Timmy made a fist with his index finger sticking out. “You want to talk to my daughter, you go through me.”
“Why should I do that?” I asked. I don’t know what part of my brain, exactly, made me say such a thing, when I was just as inclined to say “Okey dokey.”
“Excuse me?” Timmy said.
“She’s a grown woman. She’s got a son. Why should it be up to you who she talks to and who she doesn’t? If she doesn’t want to talk to me, she doesn’t have to.”
Timmy’s hand squeezed harder on my bicep. It hurt. He leaned in close to me, and his breath was hot and foul. His teeth were brown at the gum line, and for a moment, he reminded me of Gristle. Or maybe Bone. Or some creature that hides in the forest at night, waiting for you to walk past.
“I look out for her,” he said. “I take care of her, and I take care of her boy. And that gives me the right, way I see it.”
“Sure,” I said, deciding it might be wise to back down not for my own protection, but to mitigate whatever punishment Timmy might decide to mete out to his daughter once they all got back home. “Whatever you say.”
Timmy’s grip on my arm relaxed and he nodded slowly. “Good. Now, in the future, I think it would be best if you didn’t talk to my daughter or my grandson. That way, I think we can continue to remain good neighbors with your pa. Because I figure you’ll be going back home pretty soon, wouldn’t you say?”
“Soon as Dad’s ankle gets better, I guess I will.”
Timmy nodded agreeably. “That’s great. I bet they miss you back home. You got a wife, right, and kids?”
My mouth was getting very dry. “Yes,” I said.
“I’ll bet they want to see you just as much as you want to see them. Hey, you know what might be fun? Maybe sometime, I’ll drop by and have a coffee with them when you’re not around. Works both ways, you know.”