Solstice
By: Emily Moore
I
His son had died in the winter of the previous year. The flat screen was muted as Jameson sat nursing a Bud Light in his recliner, it flashed station after station of school closings due to the ice storm. The closings, warnings of slick roads, it all caused a burning knot to tug at his throat. Garret had gone with his buddies sledding that morning and never came back. The two lane highway just outside of town was notorious for its blind curves, a driver in oncoming traffic hit a patch of black ice and slid into his son’s car causing it to roll and crush him and the two other boys inside. The grief that was caused by the accident created a canyon between him and his wife and she had moved back home to her parents shortly after. As he stared, eyes glazed over at the perfectly coifed anchorwoman on the screen, he realized he could not remember the last time he had kissed her.
The days had gone on quite normally for Jameson, this the reason Hannah had moved out. She couldn’t understand why he could just go on normally, get up, shower, go to work and come home to eat dinner with an empty chair at the table. He was their only child, adopted when he was seven from an abusive home and Hannah had poured her whole life into showering him with love and attention.
Jameson could hear the phone ringing in the kitchen, he decided to let it go to the answering machine and soon he heard his friend Randy’s voice piercing the quiet house.
“Hey buddy, just seeing how the weeks going, haven’t heard from you in awhile. I know this ain’t the best time and all but Denise and I would love for you to come have Dinner with us for New Year’s. Nothin’ fancy, just bring some brewskis and we’ll ditch the women after the wine kicks in. Well, lemme know.”
“Yep, I’ll be there,” he replied to the vacant room.
II
It was an unusually warm evening for the last day of the year. Last weeks’ ice storm had closed schools and businesses for two days and then subsequently melted in the next two. Jameson had sworn that Kansas weather was the reason for his wife’s moods but no study had ever been done to prove it. He pulled up to the house, parallel parked across the street from their driveway and turned off his truck. He sat for a moment in the silence so that it melted over his ears in a comforting fuzziness. The warmth of the leather and the steam rising off the hot engine beckoned him to stay in the truck and avoid the party but he grabbed the 12 pack walked up the driveway anyhow.
It was a cruel thing really, what they had done, like some nasty trick out of a bad romance movie, but Randy and Denise were friends with Jameson and Hannah respectively, and neither of the two could stand the idea of them sitting at home alone on New Year’s Eve in the throes of the season when their son had died. They invited them both.
She was impossible to miss, so impossible in fact that she was the first thing Jameson saw when Randy opened the door to greet him. She was sitting at the island in the kitchen with the women balancing a wine glass between her thumb and forefinger. He said nothing, Randy walked around the kitchen onto the back porch and Jameson followed suit.
“You’re a real piece of work you know?
“I know, look Jay, look I’m sorry, I really am, but we just didn’t know what else to do. You guys have come every year since the kids were little and we didn’t want either of you missing out.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“You wouldn’t’ have come.”
“You’re right.” Jameson set his beer down on the porch railing and took a seat in a wicker chair. He reached for a bottle, placed it at an angle against the railing and smacked it with an open palm, popping off the cap.
The patio door slid open behind them and the tinkle of wine glasses and tipsy female voices wafted out into the night air.
“Look man I’ll leave you alone for a bit.” Randy slid back through the door as Hannah replaced him at the table.
He didn’t turn to look directly at her when he realized she had sat down, merely shot a glance or two out of the corner of his eye. She looked thinner, much. Her hair was pulled back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck and she wore a dress that appeared about two sizes two big. She was not the woman he remembered.
He waited, expecting her to say something, she had been the one to come outside after all, but she never did. She placed her wine glass gently on the glass tabletop and began tracing the rim of it with each finger in sequence.
A chilly breeze swept through the backyard and lifted the sleeve of her dress slightly off her shoulder; she caught it and returned it to its place. She resumed to tracing her glass. She desperately wanted an answer out of him but she knew not to say anything more just yet.
“It’s warm tonight.” Jameson offered after a long pull on his beer.
“Yeah, it feels nice after all that yuck last week.” Her tense voiced abruptly turned loud and loose.
“That dress looks nice on you.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes.”
“You were never a good liar.”
He finished the beer and set the bottle down on the glass table with a strong hand.
“It’s been a year.”
“And ten days.” Her hand dropped from her glass and fell into her lap where it lay motionless.
“I miss him Hannah.”
“Me too, everyday.”
“He’s really not coming back.” Jameson tried to reach for another beer but his vision was blurred by the tears.
“No, he’s not Jay.”
She slowly rose from her seat and walked over behind his chair, placing a hand on his shoulder. With the warm weight of her fingers, Jameson felt silent tears begin to roll down his cheeks. They tasted salty on his chapped lips. His hand reached across his shoulder and clenched hers in a fierce grip as he buried his face in her palm.
