Slough

**Contains some adult language.

My hair may be touched by gray, and sure there's much less up top than there used to be, but I can darn well hold open a door. Beauty before age, my dear, so do go on. Unless you're meaning to flatter this here gentleman. In that case, I'll take the compliment, but I insist, after you. There's strength in these arms yet, but not so much to be standing in doorways all day. And at my age, you'll understand, I hardly have the time. Mind your step though; there's a bit of a dip.

You mustn't have been here before; us regulars are here near every day, having our morning pick-me-ups and sharing the goings on between taking up our refills. And I've always had the knack for faces. It's served me well during my days as a pharmacist. My late wife, God bless her soul, always said that it was like I could read my customers' prescriptions in the lines of their wrinkles. But I'll let you in on a little secret; Viagra and statins aren't so hard to remember. And ain't that what it always comes down to: the loins or the heart? When you've been around as many years as I have, you'll have seen the ways life circles back to one or the other, even if it takes a few twists and turns to get down to it.

Eva here can vouch for our collective wisdom. That gal's gotten more than two pennies' worth, she'll be the first to tell you. Might I add, that's a fine looking dress for a diner like this. Not to knock the ambiance of the good ol' Golden Grill, but it's hardly what most would describe as à la mode. Andy in the back makes a mean apple pie, by the by. You'd never think such a big man could fashion such a tender crust. The ice cream, I caution you, is just the store brand variety, and trust me, your hips can do without. With such a lovely look to you, would you be meeting a young man this morning? Or lady? We don't discriminate here, do we, Eva? Not that there's anything wrong with going solo. It can be nice to have a meal to yourself, once in a blue moon. Take this seat right here at the counter. Best spot in the whole place. You can see straight into the kitchen and watch Andy at the grill. Keep him honest for the rest of us. Eva, dear, I'll be using the booth in the back. And needing some menus today. Two, if you please. Got some business to attend to.

Though before I leave you to yourself, young lady, might I suggest the number two? Best pancakes in town. Your mouth will surely thank me. Even if your hips don't.

The top could do with another wipe down, wouldn't you say? The white glove doesn't lie. Thank you, sweetheart. And two coffees please. Regular for the other. My only son, Paul the Second, will be joining me today. And mine? You're such a kidder, Eva. You know I like my coffee like I like my daughters: barely kissed. Just a splash of cream is all I need. Oh and give us a few minutes when Junior arrives. We've got some catching up to do.

There you are, my boy! Let's have a look at you. Don't hide your face away; you're a man now, not a little boy with a booboo. You've finally grown into the Miller shoulders and why, aren't you even a bit taller than I recall. Near as tall as your old man, even. Back in the tenth grade, you say? I think I'd remember a milestone as big as that. No matter. It's clear I still got you beat by some hairs, grey though they may be. A tape measure would settle it, but there ain't no rulers on the menu far as these eyes have seen, though you let me know if you read it different. Look. Here comes our coffees.

Eva, my dear, I was wondering if you'd serve as the judge of us. Hush up now. She don't mind, do you, girly? Stand up straight, son. I don't want to hear no crying foul. Press your shoulder tight to mine. See how close they line up?

You know this part of town used to be all marsh. It was grassy sloughs and bulrush-filled potholes stretching up to the clear, blue heavens, from River Street all the way to Highway 4. Then the big city developers came and those grubbing foreign farmers sold the town right out from under us. With a foundation like that, you can't be too sure what's shifted underfoot. How the dirt might have eroded away without you ever feeling it slide. Right up until the ground broke open and swallowed you whole that is. Next time, I'll be sure to bring a tape. Then we'll know for certain when we're both standing on even ground.

I suppose we could get to ordering, since Eva's here and all. Son, you'll want the number five; it's got all the things you like. Oh right, right. Nothing that doesn't cheweth the cud and does raise the cholesterol. Course I remember. Make that two number eights, sweetheart, in deference to my boy's refined palate. This old heart surely could do with some more greens. Why is it that us health professionals always have the worst habits?

Tell me about you, son. What's been going on in the life of Paul Junior during this interlude? Alex, is it now? Since when, and why? You already got a perfectly fine name that your daddy gave you. I'm aware it's your middle. Course I haven't forgotten your mother's father. Or the way your mama twisted my arm on the night you were born. But sometimes a man's got to make allowances for his woman. She was more than hysterical with the screaming and crying and the bleeding out. So I gave her the promise to add that prick of your mother's father's name to mine, even though he never did much of anything for no one, least of all me who should have been as his own blood. I kept to my word; no one can say that I didn't. The things you do for love sometimes.

You got my letter there. Least that old prick was good for something, seeing that you're here in front of me now. The lengths a father has to go to to see his own son. It's downright criminal. How else was I supposed to contact you? You wouldn't answer your phone. I called you at least six times. Right here's the proof; call logs don't lie. What's this number then? Surely not as long ago as that. How old are you now?

Time does march on. It's just like I wrote to you. I'm getting up there. Facing down the back end of my mortality. I didn't always do the right thing. God knows the temptations of the job led me astray. And I've been paying for that ever since. Though on whose authority are other men called to judge? In the end, it'll be only Him sorting me out, but 'til then I'll admit, it's not left me with much on earth.

The years, the distances: it's all got me to reflecting. George Blumshell— You remember Georgie, don't you? No. No, you must be thinking of someone else that your mother cussed out, God bless her and that slow to simmer temper of hers. I used to take you and your sister round to his place sometimes, those days your mama took on extra hours at the shop, and George and I had business to discuss. You two loved it there. You'd beg me to go and would carry on something terrible when we had to leave. For days after, you'd ask, "Are we going to Uncle George's today?" Which depended on your mama's shifts, though you never cottoned onto that back then. You'd swing round and round on that big hanging tire and squirm under the porch finding buried treasure while eating all the licorice whips your stomach could hold. Those were the golden days, my boy, where we never got sick and tired.

But now, God has surely seen fit to answer this old dog's prayers. So Georgie, he found me at the Eagle's Hall during my afternoon rounds. Coffee only, swear to Jesus. You know caffeine's as much as I'm up for ever since they took yet another license from me and then I lost your mama, God bless her weak constitution. So your Uncle George, he says he's got some business that's of interest. He's heard it on good authority that some prime land will be soon to market. We're talking waterfront parcels adjacent to protected crown land. There'll be no fear of overdevelopment there. It's near to the city, but not too close. You know how folks like their space after a reasonable drive. They're calling it an up-and-coming area. It can only grow from here on. The moment Georgie laid it out, I just knew that this was my answer, my legacy. Something that I can hold onto until it's time to pass down. With that new job of yours I heard about, you should qualify to co-sign if you don't yet have the funds to put up. You and me, together; that should be enough.

Light blue siding and a wrap-around porch? Yeah, that's Georgie's house. Well it's all his now that his mother finally passed, God bless that tough old bag. The swing's long gone; the maple it hung from blew down in that big storm five summers ago. Missed the main house by inches, so Georgie tells it, but that porch wasn't so lucky. His dog? I don't know. Given away or put down. Maybe collateral damage to that porch; I remember she'd hunker down under there in rain or shine. What's it matter?

C'mon now, that old mutt was harmless. It couldn't have been anything more than a nip. What's a couple of stitches anyways? At least she didn't get your eye. A boy could do with a little teasing anyhow. Some toughening up did you good. You know your daddy had business to take care of. It's not like I could watch you every minute of the day. Where's the sense God gave you in all of this? You should have known not to fuck around with a bitch bigger than you.

Son. Sit down. We're having a nice breakfast here. Put your wallet back. That's more than— Son.

No, no, everything's fine, Eva dear. Just, something came up. Could you cancel that second order? And would it be too late to change mine to sausage and bacon? Yes, please do check with Andre. Be sure to tell him it's Paul that's asking. You're a sweetheart. Here's a little something extra for your trouble.

No, no. I insist.