Page 157 of Old Habits
Epilogue
Will
It’s a warm day in Clover, Kansas.
The sun casts a bright glow throughout the town square. Birds are starting to return now that the snow and ice have melted away. Natalie wanders the street with a small storage box under her arm to detach the last few pink and red ribbons that still remain on parking meters and road signs.
Valentine’s Day 2020 is over.
I step out of the corner market with several grocery bags in each hand, extending my foot to hold the door as a man passes by me.
“Hello, William!” Coach Rogers says.
I smile at him. “Hey, Coach.”
He takes the weight of the door to let me slide out of his way. “I must say, you’re looking about a 9.5 today!”
I nod. “I’d say it’s more of a 9.7.”
“Well, keep that smile going!” He continues on into the market. “It’s contagious!”
While I love getting into it with Coach about the morality of his coveted G-HIC system, I can’t say I haven’t seen the effects of it in action recently. In the few shorts days since the Valentine’s Day dance, I’ve seen the widespread smiles lingering on every face. There’s a light and fluffy feeling around every corner. The events of a few individuals really matter to the people as a whole.
Happy life. Happy town.
I step off the curb and pop the trunk to toss the groceries inside.
“Hey, Myers!”
I look at the toy store behind me and wave toward the shiny, bald head poking out the door. “Hey, Mr. Trin.”
“Jovie doing okay?” he asks.
“She’s great. How’s that new smock girl working out?”
He rolls his eyes, barely lowering his voice. “Girl can’t tell the difference between a sauropod and a cerapod. You tell Jovie she’s needed back ASAP.”
“I’ll pass it on.” I laugh.
“I mean it.” He steps one foot back inside. “Throw the bundle of joy in a björn. Pump at the register. I don’t care. I need my assistant manager.”
“It’s been three days, Mr. Trin,” I say. “You’ve got three months to go.”
“That’s a lifetime in this business. Don’t you know anything about product cycles?”
I shrug. “I fix cars.”
He throws up his hands and retreats back inside.
I step back onto the curb and linger near the window to look inside, catching sight of the new employee walking through the aisles. She’s young with a pixie hair cut — not unlike Jovie when she first put on that red smock a decade ago.
The girl stacks a few dolls on the shelf, carelessly leaving them without meticulously straightening them first. Jovie would throw a fit but I won’t tell her. She’s got enough to worry about right now as it is.
I start the quick drive home. A few dog walkers in my neighborhood stop to wave at the familiar vehicle as I pass by and I honk back, spreading the joy a little further.
It’s not always like this, of course. After all, Valentine’s Day has always been a really horrible time for me and Jovie. Even after the vows were said and rings were exchanged, we still managed to find reasons to make the season of love a period of frustration each year. I’d try and find a way to get ahead of it, as usual, and Jovie would do her best not to let it get to her and, as usual, we’d fail miserably and spend the holiday glaring at each other until the sensual urges overtook us and make-up sex would come to the rescue.
But I think we finally found a way to permanently bury that Valentine’s stigma once and for all.