Free Lions by Bonnie Nadzam Page A

back?”
    â€œCouple days I’m sure.”
    â€œWe’re not going to leave you alone until he’s back.”
    â€œOh, I’m OK.”
    â€œAnd don’t you worry about the memorial or funeral—me and Dock and Boyd will take care of it. You just direct us, OK?”
    â€œThank you, May.”
    â€œDo you know what John wanted?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œWe’ll wait for Gordon.”
    May watched her. They’d hand-stitched yellow and blue–checked cloth napkins together for their kitchen tables when they were twenty-three. Quilted for their babies when they were both pregnant, those quilts now faded and soft in Leigh’s and Gordon’s bedrooms. They’d shared preserves and chicken casserole recipes, been drunk, been furious, been fine.
    â€œAnd now the children will leave, won’t they?” Georgianna gazed out the window over the yard and toward the weedy fields.
    â€œI’m afraid so.”
    â€œI wish they wouldn’t.”
    â€œI know it, honey.”
    â€œMaybe they can stay. Run everything for us.”
    May laughed. “We’ll put little paper umbrellas in our drinks and put our feet up. Can you imagine?”
    â€œYes, and then they can go, later. Some other time.” They both laughed. “May,” Georgianna said. “It’s going to break my heart. Both of them at once. All of them at once.”
    â€œThe kids aren’t dying. And I’ll be right next door.”
    â€œI don’t believe Gordon will go,” Georgianna said. “I don’t. He has work here. His father. You know how they are. How they were. How John was.”
    â€œSweetie. Lions isn’t like it was even six months ago. And it’s always been bad. There’s no business for Gordon.”
    â€œI know it.”
    â€œHardly anyone comes.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou think it’s temporary. Is that right?”
    â€œThere’ve been times like this. Seven years once when John’s grandfather didn’t have a single customer. Seven years.”
    â€œI don’t know how they got by.”
    â€œThey got by.”
    â€œDid he leave you anything? Life insurance?”
    Georgianna shook her head.
    â€œDamn it, John,” May said.
    Georgianna opened the tissue and blew her nose, crumpled it back into a ball.
    â€œMaybe you can come work in the diner finally, huh? Been trying to get you in there for years. Employees eat free, you know.”
    â€œI’ll make my city chicken.”
    â€œFrom Omaha.”
    â€œAnd my cousin Julie’s corn soufflé.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI didn’t think it would be so soon.”
    â€œI know, honey.”
    â€œIt’s so quiet here now. No one makes a sound.”
    â€œPeople will be coming by, now.”
    â€œThey will?”
    â€œOf course they will.”
    â€œI feel sick.”
    â€œI’ll go to Burnsville tomorrow. Get you ginger ale and whatever else you need. Let’s make a list.”
    â€œHe was almost out of Lava soap.”
    â€œFirst item.”
    Just before ten, after sitting with Georgianna until she drifted off, May found three men at the bar. Chuck Garcia, Dock Sterling, and Erik Jorgensen had quietly taken their places. Boyd had the television off. They could see clearly across the street into the diner, where Leigh sat alone at a table with a melted milkshake and an untouched grilled cheese.
    â€œShe’s been sitting there since dinner,” May said. “Poor kid.”
    â€œJohn was like her dad,” Boyd said.
    May gave him a look. “I should have been so lucky.”
    Boyd glanced up at her sharply and Dock and Chuck laughed.
    â€œShe must be sick about it,” Dock said. “That and Gordon.”
    For a few minutes, no one spoke. They could feel the weight of the news between their shoulders. John Walker, gone. They lifted their drinks, eyes fixed in the middle