Gravy Patterson's Arc

Chapter 4 of 11

The fire was catching good by the time the yard filled up. Gravy worked the pit, flipping curds in the pan, nodding at each new face. Derek stood near the table, but he wasn't laughing with the others. He kept looking past the gate, then back at Gravy. After a while he crossed the yard and put a hand on Gravy's elbow. "Need a word," Derek said, quiet. "Out back." Gravy set the pan down and followed him around the side of the house, away from the noise. Behind the house sat a smaller fire ring, stones stacked low, no flame in it yet. Derek stopped there. A lawn chair was already pulled up beside it, and on the seat sat a big sack of fresh pretzels, salt catching the last light. Gravy stared at the chair. He hadn't put it there. "Who?" he said. Derek wouldn't meet his eyes. "Somebody I brought. She's waiting in my truck. She wants to sit down tonight, that's all." Gravy's jaw locked. He knew without asking. He looked at the pretzels she'd hauled all the way out here, a peace offering set down before she'd even walked in. "Tell me why," Gravy said. Derek shook his head. "Not till you say she can stay. That's the deal, cousin. You let her sit, then I tell you." Gravy looked at the empty chair a long time. He thought about last May, the cold poutine, the door that never opened. He thought about who showed up tonight, and who was sitting in a truck waiting on his word. "One night," Gravy said. "She sits back here. Not at the big fire. And you talk, Derek. Now." Derek let out a breath and nodded. Gravy walked back to the pit before he heard it, picked up his pan, and told the boys to keep an eye on the curds. Then he came back around the house to hear what his cousin had carried in.