Clara barked in agreement. He got dressed in his running clothes. He’d started running as a way to keep his sobriety on track. He kept running because he loved it. Two weeks ago, when his doctor declared that he was healthy enough to run, he’d run all the way home. They’d been out every day since then.
He wrote a note for Dale and left it in the kitchen. He and Clara ran a three-mile circuit hitting the parkways in the neighborhood. Home again, he started a pot of coffee, took a fast shower, and headed to the basement. On his way through, he found Maresol standing in the middle of the kitchen. She poured him a cup of coffee and waved him on his way.
He and Clara jogged the stairs to the basement storage room where his mother’s granduncle’s upright piano lived. He’d found the piano when he was three years old, was playing by the time he was four, and wrote his first full symphony when he was eight. When he opened the door, Clara ran in and jumped onto the old leather couch. Seth took in the still peace of his sanctuary.
He sat down to play.
Maresol came in at some point to bring him a breakfast burrito and a refill on his coffee. He made polite conversation with her because he’d catch hell if he didn’t. She started a fire in the fireplace and tidied the room, because she knew it drove him crazy. After a while, she disappeared.
He went back to playing the piano.
“What the hell is this?” Dale’s voice was loud and angry. Seth looked up from the piano.
“What the hell is what?” Seth asked.
“This!” Dale held up the note Seth had left for him. “I’m barely getting out of bed, and what does the master of the household do?”
Seth raised his eyebrows in response to Dale’s sarcasm and anger.
“Well, you’ve got another think coming, asswipe,” Dale said. “I quit.”
Like watching a building collapse, Dale’s entire being began to shut down. The day after Dale had found Beth’s body, Seth had found him weeping on a parking stop in the lot behind Dale, Beth, and Ava’s home. Seth had brought the young man home. Dale acted as Seth’s handyman as his way of paying for his living expenses. He had no other place to go.
“I won’t do this or anything else for you.” Dale spit out. He tried to catch his breath from the strong emotion that coursed through his veins. “Not one more thing and . . . Who do you think you are anyway? And . . .”
The young man started to weave. Seth caught him before he hit the floor. Seth negotiated him to a seat on the couch next to Clara. Dale leaned against the armrest and covered his head. His shoulders moved as if he were sobbing.
Seth sat down at the piano and played for a while. He played soothing music—some of which he’d written and some of which belonged to the masters—Mozart, Tchaikovsky, and even a little Mahler. When he looked up, Dale was staring at the fire.
“Why did you ask me to do this?” Dale asked in a tone loud enough for Seth to hear over the piano.
“To give you something else to think about,” Seth said. “Ava says her work is helping her. I thought that xeriscaping the front yard would help you move through the next few months.”
Dale didn’t say anything, so Seth went back to playing.
“What are you thinking of?” Dale asked after a while.
Seth stopped playing and turned to look at him.
“For the front yard?” Seth asked.
Dale nodded.
“No idea,” Seth said. “But I bet Maresol does.”
“Why xeriscape?” Dale asked.
“Seems like the smart thing to do,” Seth said. “Plus, almost all of our neighbors have converted their front yards to xeriscape.”
“All of our neighbors . . . No they haven’t,” Dale squinted. “Where did you . . . and anyway, since when did you notice anyone’s front yard?”
“Since never,” Seth said.
“Maresol,” Dale nodded.
“Fall is supposed to be a great time to make the conversion,” Seth said.
“This was her idea?” Dale asked. “The whole distract-Dale-with-the-xeriscape thing?”
“She would like it done,” Seth said. “I thought the timing might be right.”
Dale’s head went up and down in a slow nod. Seth reviewed the young man’s face. His hair was long and dirty. His green eyes were raw. His lips were red and swollen. He looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in a very long time.
“When was the last time you slept?” Seth asked. “Ate?”
Dale shook his head. Seth waited for an answer. When none came, he returned to playing soothing music on the ancient piano.
“You mind if I go see Blane?” Dale asked.
“For acupuncture?” Seth asked. “I don’t mind at all. It’s a good idea.”
Dale gave a slow nod.
“You know you don’t have to ask me,” Seth said.
“You pay for everything,” Dale said.
“I have a lot of money and not a lot to do with it,” Seth said. “When you’re my age and you have a lot of money, you’ll understand.”
Dale smirked. Seth nodded to acknowledge the irony of talking about the future when Dale was barely surviving the present.
“How do you think I’m going to make all that money?” Dale grinned. “I’m no prodigy pianist.”
“Xeriscape.”
Dale burst out laughing. Seth smiled.
“Sorry about . . . you know,” Dale said.
“Been there,” Seth said. “Except I did it fully loaded on booze and whatever else I could find to numb the pain. I happen to admire your courage.”
Dale gave Seth a long look.
“If you don’t need this thing done today, I’m going back to bed,” Dale said.
“Good idea,” Seth said. “I’ll ask Maresol to call Blane.”
Dale gave Seth a weary nod and left the room. Seth turned back to the piano. He looked up when he felt Maresol’s eyes. She was leaning against the doorjamb.
“I already called Blane for an appointment for him,” she said.
Seth nodded.
“That was nice of you,” she said.
“What was?”
“The whole thing,” Maresol said. “What do you want done with the front yard?”
“No idea,” Seth said. “You?”
“I’ll come up with something,” Maresol said. “I’ll take him to the Botanic Gardens for inspiration.”
“Good idea,” Seth said.
“You don’t like grass?” Maresol asked.
Seth shrugged.
“You made this whole thing up to give him something to do?” Maresol asked.
Seth nodded.
“You’re nicer than you look,” she said. She picked up his plate and coffee cup. With one last nod, she closed the door.
Seth played the piano.
He felt the house and its occupants move around him. At some point, Maresol convinced Dale to go to the Botanic Gardens with her. The cleaning service blew through the house, taking the dust, debris, and dog hair with them. Sometime later, Maresol and Dale returned—she went to the kitchen, and he went back to bed. The gardeners mowed the grass one last time before fall’s ice and snow set in.
The door opened, and Seth looked up.
“Hey,” Ava said.
He squinted at her.
“It’s seven,” Ava grinned. “Would you like some dinner? Maresol left us the fixings for tacos, or we could go out. I think I’d rather stay in, if that’s okay with you.
Seth blinked at her.
“I really need your attention tonight.” As if to punctuate her statement, she gave a curt nod.
He got up from the piano and followed her out of the room.
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