I’m content helping my friends and living my quiet life. New movies dropping on Netflix and whatever Jester’s next fixation happens to be are my big excitement.

The longer I sit here this evening, the more I realize I’m only going to make myself miserable. I head up to Colley to do some shopping there. Not that I don’t like shopping at the Pig in town—although it hasn’t been an actual Piggly Wiggly in years, but we all still call it that—but I don’t want to see familiar faces.

Yes, I might be checking my cell phone way too often for any missed calls or texts from Desi.

It’s after six when I return home and still no call from Desi.

Anger tries to creep in but my grief and loneliness drown it out. He’s busy, I’m sure. He’s never not called me back when he’s promised to call me.

But if I sit here tonight and do nothing but wait for his call, I know it’s not good for me.

The book club is absolutely out of the question. I don’t need all of them staring at me, obviously biting back their questions or hoping their sympathy isn’t too visible.

Then I remember what else I can do—every Tuesday night, the Falls Inn holds karaoke. They make decent burgers, and I can have a couple of beers while I keep myself distracted.

With that settled, I scoop Jester’s litter box and go take a shower. At least I won’t be “alone” for most of the evening.

* * *

I haven’t been here to sing karaoke in over a year, at least. It’s moderately busy tonight, and being closer to Webley and Sarcan than it is to Maudlin Falls means that there are fewer friends here tonight. I recognize at least half of the people by face if nothing else but no one who, even if they did hear the rumor, know me well enough to be bold enough to ask me about it.

Thank goodness.

I settle in at a small table in a corner and order a burger, fries, and a beer to start with. Then I grab one of the binders of song lists and a notepad and start picking out my favorites. I go for fun showtunes and songs I can really lose myself in, making sure I stay away from any rock ballads or love songs that will most likely put me over the edge.

Definitely don’t want to be one of the sloppy drunks crying on stage tonight.

I’ve already sang my first number when my order comes out. Deanna, my waitress, smiles and holds out her palm. “Hand them over, please. Phil’s orders, you know that. You can check in with him before you’re ready to leave.”

Chuckling, I dig into my pocket, pull out the keys to my truck, and hand them over. If someone comes alone and doesn’t have a specified designated driver, Phil confiscates keys and makes you prove to him you’re sober enough to drive and reclaim your keys. Otherwise, you have to be driven home by a sober patron, or call for a rideshare. If you can’t drive, your car is safe there in his parking lot until you can come get it the next day. Or else you can pay a couple of dollars for one of the wait staff to bring it to you.

He used to have two of his sons work tag-team to drive patrons home, the younger one following in his own car to ferry the older brother back, but they graduated from college and moved away.

Considering Phil’s run the Falls Inn for over thirty years and has never had any of his patrons have an incident, I’d say that’s a darn good track record.

My cell phone sits on the table in front of me, face-up, and I switch it to silent mode. When—rather, if—Desi calls me back, I’ll be able to see it.

But it’s already after six and he hasn’t called me back.

I flag Deanna down next time she passes. “You know, I think I’d like a Jack on the rocks. Double.”

She arches a carefully sculpted eyebrow at me. “You sure, Tom?”

I nod and force a smile. “Phil’s got my keys.”

She shrugs. “All right, sweetie. Sit tight. I’ll get it for you.”

I settle back in my chair as one of the other patrons, an older woman I’ve never seen before, gets up and sings a damned good version of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide.” Sounds eerily like Stevie Nicks.

As I listen, I choke back my tears because I sense I’m not getting a call back. I think I knew he wasn’t going to call back and I lied to myself.

I think it’s time I finally start mourning so I can move on with my life.

Tonight is that first step. Taking a deep breath, I reach over and turn my cell phone facedown. I go up and add a couple of numbers to my list because I feel like singing out my pain.

I need to accept reality.

I need to accept the facts. He’s not coming back.

Once I do that…then I can deal with my own emotional landslide.