The Cooler on the Courthouse Bench

Out the Door

Gail didn’t answer him. She stood up. She looked down at her plate of prime rib, the one she’d barely touched, and she picked it up in both hands, plate and all.

Then she walked out of the steakhouse with it. Right past the hostess stand, right out the front door, with the little bell ringing over her head.

The whole table sat frozen. The waitress stood there holding a pitcher of tea. Josh’s wife whispered, “Is she leaving?” Nobody answered her, because nobody knew.

Through the window we watched Gail cross the street in her black dress, carrying that plate out in front of her like an offering at church.

She didn’t use the crosswalk. She just went straight across the square, through the yellow leaves, toward the courthouse.

Tyler set his notebook paper on the table and went after her. He didn’t say a word to any of us. He just went, and I’ll always think better of him for it.

I sat there. I’ll admit it. For about half a minute I didn’t know whether it was my place to follow. It was his mother. It was his day.

Then Kelsey stood up and held her hand out to me. “Come on, Mom,” she said. So I went. Pam stayed with the others and told the waitress, “Keep it all warm, honey, we’ll be back.”

By the time Kelsey and I got across the square, Gail was sitting on the bench beside Earl. My cooler was on the far end.

Her plate of prime rib was on her knees. She had cut it into pieces and set half of it on Earl’s paper plate.

Earl was looking at her the way he had looked at me, waiting to be sure she meant it.

“I’m Gail,” she was saying. “I’m sorry I woke you up earlier. On the steps. I was loud.”

“You didn’t wake me,” Earl said. “Diane did. But it was a good wake-up.”

Tyler was standing a few feet away with his hands in his pockets. Kelsey went and stood by him. I stayed back by the bike rack. It wasn’t my moment either. I could feel that.