The Good Son Carolyn Mills (best english novels to read txt) 📖

had in mind when he asked about drinks. The first was Mackie’s, the greasy bar and grill where I hung out with the guys from the plant. It was not somewhere I’d otherwise hang out; in fact, I’d never even gone there with Jonathan. The second was Dunford Lanes, the bowling alley, which even I recognized as a corny place to go for a drink, but I liked sitting at the tiny bar in the lounge, watching the bowlers, lost in the commotion around me, with no pressure to engage in conversation with anybody. Silas, the bartender — who also happened to be the shoe rental clerk — knew me well enough to understand that I wasn’t there to socialize. He just served me my cheap wine and went about his business.

Amir was staring at me, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, sometimes I go to the bowling alley actually,” I admitted. “It sounds dumb, but they have a decent little bar there.”

Amir cocked his head and appraised me for a moment. “Maybe you could show it to me some time.”

I’m not sure what came over me. “Sure. You free this Thursday?”

A group of kids were running toward the playground, shrieking about the last one there being a rotten egg. Without saying a word, Amir and I began walking down the path, away from the shouting kids, to the other end of the park where the river neared the dam.

“Thursday is great. How does around seven sound? I could pick you up or just meet you there.”

“Why don’t I pick you up?” I asked.

“I’m in Willow Flats. Number nineteen. You know where that is?”

“I grew up here,” I said. “I know where everything is.”

We walked along the river together and I pointed out some things I thought he might find interesting like Ice Cream Island, and across from it, Dunford’s most famous residence.

“See that massive house over there? It’s called Copperly Mansion and the building behind it used to be a carriage house. It was used in a movie once.”

I slowed down to give Amir a chance to take in the mansion’s grandeur: the immaculate flower beds that skirted the wrap-around porch with its fluted columns, the tower-like turrets, the multi-gabled roof, and the four brick chimneys jutting like sentinels into the sky. Apparently, the house had eight fireplaces inside, each one a work of art in and of itself.

Amir nodded appreciatively. “What was the movie?”

“I don’t remember. Something with a plane. I think George Clooney was in it. It was someone famous, because I remember Mrs. Copperly was worried that people were going to trample her gardens trying to get a picture of him.”

“Did they?”

“No. The film crew closed the street. He was only here for like half a day.”

I ended up walking Amir back to Willow Flats where he waved to me before calling out, “See you Thursday!”

It was only when I was walking alone again, heading back to my house on Pine Street, that I realized I’d never asked what brought him to Dunford. I mean, other than the job at the bank. At least we’d have something to talk about on Thursday. And while I still missed Champ’s eager footsteps greeting me at the door, I didn’t feel quite as desolate as I had in the previous weeks.

CHAPTER TWO

•

I DROVE TO WILLOW FLATS just before seven, my palms leaving wet fingerprints on the steering wheel. Amir was already standing outside, wearing jeans and a casual button-down shirt that made him look super sexy. He climbed into the passenger seat and smiled at me.

“Thanks for picking me up. The service around here is amazing.” Even though he was mocking me, his teasing voice and gentle smile helped loosen the knot of grief in my chest that had been ever-present since Champ’s death.

I was worried about choosing Dunford Lanes. It seemed like such a weird place to take someone for drinks that I almost changed my mind. Maybe I could casually suggest one of the other bars in town, one of the ones I had already dismissed just days earlier. In the end, I decided to stick with the original plan because there would be less explaining that way.

The lounge of Dunford Lanes consisted of four round wooden tables, in addition to a few stools at the bar. From those tables, you could watch the bowlers, or, if you were facing the window, look out into the parking lot and the woods behind it. I liked it here because my mind could wander. But now, with Amir sitting across from me, my attention was fixed on him. In the background, over the tinny speakers in the bar, “You Found Me” by The Fray was playing and I couldn’t help thinking it was the perfect song for this moment with Amir.

“We should bowl,” Amir announced. “Don’t you ever actually bowl when you’re here?”

“Not usually,” I admitted.

“So why do you come here if you don’t like bowling?” He was already getting to his feet and I realized he was serious. Then, reaching for my hand, he pulled me out of my chair and toward the shoe rentals. Silas winked at me as he moved from behind the bar to take our sizes.

It became a passtime of ours. We’d go bowling once a week, sometimes just the two of us, sometimes with friends. I had more friends when I was with Amir. He had the kind of personality that attracts others, and when I was dating him, I found myself, more often than not, thrown into the company of other people. For a while, I had an actual social life outside of work.

On that first date, I learned a lot about Amir. He’d grown up in St. Catharine’s and gone to university at Laurier, where he studied business. He got a job as a mortgage broker for a small firm in Waterloo, then moved to a bank where he felt like he was only ever given menial tasks and was more of