Easter Sunday, March 26, 1967
Easter landed earlier in the year than usual. Dinner would need to be inside, so Mary Ellen’s mother, Elsie Buchanan, hosted the entire clan in her large house.
When people like Elsie Buchanan hosted holiday dinners, one didn’t need to bring a side dish, but Johnette insisted. The stench of the mushroom soup in the green bean casserole nauseated him, which didn’t help with Garrett’s sour mood.
Despite attempts to bow out of the holiday gathering, Mary Ellen, Eron, and Mrs. Buchanan insisted. Besides, he hadn’t seen Eron since the night they’d danced at the country club. They all had such a good time and in the end, everyone laughed at their antics. Garrett hadn’t called Eron since then, though, and Eron hadn’t called him. Green bean casserole was a small price to pay to see Eron.
He had kept himself busy with work and at the flea market on the weekends to keep his mind off of Eron, though he’d reached for the phone on more than one occasion. Eron’s probable rejection stopped him.
“These are mighty nice houses,” Allen Emerson said from the passenger seat, bobbing his head to look out the windows. Garrett drove through the tree-lined streets looking for the Buchanan house.
“Oh Mr. Emerson, I just love you,” Johnette said, her tone a mixture of nervousness and irritability. “You say what we’re all thinking.”
Allen was probably a bit more working class than Johnette appreciated.
Garrett ignored them both and focused on the street. While he had jangled nerves at seeing Eron again, his irritation at Johnette and his dad grew every day. Garrett let out an exasperated breath at all the cars parked on the street and in the large circle drive. They had arrived.
Although glad to see them, Mrs. Buchanan looked less than thrilled to accept Johnette’s side dish. Her face froze into a fake smile.
“You shouldn’t have, dear. I’m sure the caterers have prepared enough.” With class, Mrs. Buchanan took the dish and handed it to a boy nearby to take into the kitchen. The smile on Johnette’s face drooped face until she saw Mary Ellen in the downstairs library.
“Mrs. Buchanan, this is my father, Allen Emerson,” Garrett said after Johnette walked away.
Mrs. Buchanan did a double take. The fake smile melted away into a beam of genuine interest as she held out her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Emerson.”
Allen took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Buchanan.”
She blushed as she patted the broach at her neck.
“Please, call me Elsie. Everyone does.” Elsie’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, forgive me. The men are in the den watching some ball game on TV.”
Garrett went down the hall, and behind the stairs. Allen followed. Just as Elsie said, an NBA game played on the console television. The room was filled with many of the same men Garrett had seen at other family functions. Including Eron.
Eron continued to glare to the TV screen until Garrett stood before him. His face lit up and he pushed himself off the sofa.
* * * *
Garrett gave him a big, toothy grin.
“Sit down, you’re blocking the view,” someone complained.
Garrett gave his dad a shove and Allen took Eron’s seat on one of the couches.
“How are you?” Eron didn’t know what else to say.
“I’ve been good…well…I’ve been well,” Garrett said. He folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.
Garrett appeared mad.
“Sorry I haven’t called, busy with cases and such.” Eron rubbed the back of his neck.
A fast break and slam dunk diverted their attention to the TV. The entire room erupted in cheers.
As they settled back in, Fred Johnson strode toward them. “Well, ladies, are you going to give us another show like you did at the club?”
He raised his right arm and cupped his right hand as if to lead an imaginary partner around a dance floor. Fred batted his eyes at Eron. A few of the others chuckled, but most of the men had their eyes glued to the game.
Something exploded in Eron’s temple. He took a swig of his beer, gave Garrett a sideways glance, and walked out of the den.
* * * *
After dinner, Garrett needed a cigarette and fresh air. With the weather much warmer than earlier in the day, Garrett sought refuge on the back patio. When he stepped out onto the sheltered concrete, he started at finding Eron secluded in a corner.
“Uh…sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I needed some fresh air.”
Eron took a swig of his beer and a drag off his cigarette. “You’re not interrupting. Things got kinda stuffy in there, with all the hot air blowing around.”
Garrett pointed to the nearest chair. “Mind if I sit?”
Eron nodded to the chaise next to him.
“I had to get out of there. Johnette and my father talked over me through dinner, while I nodded. I’m not sure what I might have agreed to.” Before he sat, Garrett felt the cushion for dampness. “What’s going on?” Garrett lit his Marlboro and took the first drag.
“I’d like to know that myself.” Eron inhaled deeply off his cigarette. “Look, I’m sorry for dragging you out on the dance floor last month. That was a brainless stunt and I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“It’s no big deal. Just a harmless prank, right?’
Confusion sparkled in Eron’s eyes. “Then why did it feel so good to dance with you?”
Garrett grinned. Even though it was chilly outside, he was warm enough knowing that Eron had just said that.
“Say we want to make something of whatever it is we’ve started. How can we do that?”
Garrett crinkled his brow and stared at the ground. “Not sure.”
“Do you think it’s possible, I mean…”
“What will that do to our families? To our jobs?”
Eron shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m not doing either much good the way it stands.”
Garrett nodded as Eron stood up and went back inside.
* * * *
Garrett dropped Allen off and then headed to Johnette’s house. Elsie’s caterers had washed the dish that held the nasty casserole, so all that nauseated Garrett was his confusion over Eron.
“What did you and Eron have to talk about on the patio?” Johnette asked. She’d worked real hard to sound sweet.
Garrett shrugged, his concentration on the road. “Nothing.”
“You were out there for several minutes and your mouths were moving. How can you say nothing?”
“What does it matter what we talked about? You wouldn’t be interested anyway.”
“You’re probably right. I don’t understand half the things you say. I hope we have a house like Mrs. Buchanan someday. Wasn’t it beautiful?”
Even if Garrett had the money for a house like that, he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to be chained to a desk at the bank for the rest of his life. His dad’s filling station wasn’t the type of business he wanted to own, either. He wanted to own an inn, but that would never be good enough for Johnette.
“Not really, we talked about the game and the weather. He’s busy with cases, I’m busy at the bank and with Bates on the weekends, you know, nothing really.”
Garrett chuckled out loud, his thoughts once again on the dance floor, Eron’s strong arms guiding him, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so…loved. Eron didn’t care about his job, his car, or his house. Eron only cared about his happiness.
* * * *