I take a sip of my wine, and after swallowing I say, “Well…let’s see. I was born in Hartford, Connecticut, and lived there until I was eighteen. When I graduated from high school, I didn’t have any interest in college right then so I thought I’d travel around. A friend and I went out to Portland, and that’s when I started working as a barista. Stayed there a few years, fell in love, or so I thought, and followed a guy out to Tucson. Fell out of love—namely because he was also loving someone else behind my back—and left Tucson for Little Rock. Over the next three years I lived in Little Rock, Nashville, and then Pittsburgh. I was working as a bartender in Pittsburgh when I found out my mom was sick, and I went back home to Hartford to take care of her until she passed away. Then I moved here.”
“I’m really sorry about your mom,” Gray says softly, and I see within the depths of her eyes an understanding of my pain. She lost her mom too, although far earlier than I did. Just like I didn’t have a father growing up, she didn’t have a mother. But I’m sure she can imagine how horrible it would be to lose her father, and that’s where I know she truly gets me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, looking down into my wine. “It wasn’t pretty at the end, and she didn’t go fast. Luckily they had her pretty drugged up, so I don’t think she was suffering. Still…I got to the point where I would just sit in her hospice room and talk to her, repeatedly just telling her that it was all right to let go. I was so grateful when she finally did.”
I look up and see a light sheen of tears formed in Gray’s eyes, but they’re not looking at me. Rather, they’re pinned on her father, and I know she is indeed imagining what that might be like if that happened to him. My gaze cuts to Brian, but he’s looking at me, his face awash with utter sympathy.
“I can’t even imagine being in that situation…just watching and waiting,” Gray says hoarsely, and I look back to her. She’s blinked the tears away, but I can tell she’s still ruminating about mortality. “It gives me a little more clarity as to why you came here. Why you want to get to know us.”
“Not to replace her,” I say quickly. “Never that.”
“Not to replace,” Brian says gently. “To add to your already full life.”
Gray smiles at me, then crosses the kitchen, brushing past me. But she hesitates…lays a hand on my arm and gives it a tiny squeeze of sympathy before she walks to the stove and pulls the tinfoil off the beef tenderloin that sits in a roasting pan on top.
“So what’s your current story, Lexi?” Ryker asks casually as he moves to the cabinet that holds water glasses and starts pulling some out. He then in turn puts each one under the ice dispenser and fills them up. “Brian says you’re a musician?”
I shoot a smirk at Brian and then look to Ryker. “I actually make and serve coffee at The Grind, but I do a little music on the side. It doesn’t really pay much, but the tips are nice.”
“I never knew a ukulele could be so versatile,” Brian adds proudly, and I can tell by the smile on Ryker’s face as he fills the water glasses that Brian has actually told both Gray and Ryker quite a bit about my singing.
“Mom wanted me to play an instrument when I was little, and I didn’t want to. We argued about it incessantly, but she insisted. We finally compromised, and she told me I could pick the instrument. I seriously considered the drums just to drive her nuts, but I was totally charmed by the ukulele after listening to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.”
“Who?” Ryker asks as he moves each ice-filled glass to the water dispenser in the fridge to fill them. Gray pulls a knife from a drawer beside the stove and starts to cut the beef tenderloin, and Brian merely sips on his wine and enjoys my story as I tell it.
“Israel Kamakawiwo’ole was a Hawaiian folksinger, and he did this amazing mash-up of ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’ and ‘What a Wonderful World,’ and it really is what made me fall in love with music. After that, there was no choice. It was the ukulele for me.”
“I heard her sing ‘Over the Rainbow,’?” Brian says proudly. “It was amazing.”
“Ryker,” Gray slips into the conversation. “Can you hand me a plate?”
Ryker reaches back into another cabinet, grabs a plate, and hands it to me. I turn to hand it to Gray, and she smiles at me as she says, “Maybe one night Ryker and I can get over to The Grind and listen to you.”
“Really?” I ask, my smile cracking wide open. “That would be awesome.”
“Absolutely,” Ryker answers for his wife, and I turn back to him with the same smile. “Sounds like a lot of fun. I rarely get to take Gray out on a date anymore between our work and raising the girls.”
“Definitely sounds fun,” Gray adds, and the earlier awkwardness seems to have dissipated completely.
“So are you dating anyone?” Ryker asks me pleasantly, another question to learn more about me. Gray stops her transfer of the sliced tenderloin to the plate I had just handed her and looks at me with interest.
“Not really,” I say, which is the truth. “But I have a first date next week and I’m looking forward to that.”