“No, indeed,” I play right along. I glance at Gorby but not toward Katherine. “My girl here is no Rebecca.”
“Please tell me I was not just compared to a car,” Katherine says.
“No!” Gorby exclaims, affronted by the suggestion. “Rebecca here’s a big rig!”
I look back to Katherine. “She’s a big rig. You were just a big—”
I break off and grin when she narrows her eyes.
“So, what happened?” Gorby asks. “Why didn’t you two go the distance?”
He looks almost sad at our failed romance, though the effect is tempered a bit when he takes an enormous bite of burger.
“’Cuz, I gotta say,” he continues when neither of us replies. “The two of you together. You’ve got a real . . . what’s the word I’m lookin’ for?”
“Hostility? Animosity? Mutual loathing?” Katherine provides.
“Energy!” Gorby proclaims. “That’s the word I was thinkin’。 Or was it synergy? You two kind of crackle. You know?”
I do know. I know all too well.
“Crackling’s not always a good thing,” I say quietly.
“On that, we agree,” Katherine says. “Left unchecked, a crackle can sometimes . . .” She makes a combustion motion with her hands.
Gorby takes his hand off the wheel, picks something out of his tooth, and frowns. “So, you ain’t romantic anymore. But you’re traveling together for Christmas? That makes about as much sense as a jar of little, tiny pickled onions.”
Katherine leans forward to look around me at Gorby. “Cocktail onions? You’re not a fan? They’re great in a Gibson.”
“Unnatural.” He shakes his head. “What happened to ’em to make them so small? They just ain’t right. But you two. You two seem right as—”
Katherine cuts in. “Tom’s with somebody else. Someone who suits him far better than I ever did.”
“Sheesh golly.” Gorby taps his fist on the steering wheel lightly, disappointed. “That just doesn’t seem right to me.”
Me neither, Gorby. Me neither.
The thought causes an immediate wave of guilt as I think of Lolo, who’s been a perfectly pleasant companion the past year, who’s patiently waited while I sort out the mess that is Katherine.
I just need to get back to her. See her face so I can forget all about Katherine’s.
Probably.
“So. You ain’t together. So, what’s in Chicago that you’re in such a rush to get to by Christmas?” Gorby asks thoughtfully as he crumples the burger wrapper into a ball and hands it to me. I accept it and give it to Katherine.
“Lolo,” Katherine says matter-of-factly as she leans forward to tuck the wrapper into the little trash bag Gorby has strapped to the passenger side glove compartment.
“That a truck?” Gorby asks.
Katherine lets out a laugh, and even I can’t hide my smile.
“Gorby, you are a treasure,” Katherine says. “No, Lolo is Tom’s fiancée. Almost fiancée.”
“Thomas!” Gorby leans back to give me an appraising look. “You getting married?”
“That’s the plan.” My voice sounds flat, even to my ears.
“What are we talking, Christmas morning proposal?” Gorby asks.
“Christmas Eve. Midnight.”
Shock has me whipping my head toward Katherine. “You know about . . .”
“The Walsh Christmas Eve tradition? Please. Of course I know.”
“How?”
Katherine shrugs. “I helped your mom digitize all of her photos last year. They went back like a billion generations. It was sort of hard to miss.”
“Now, hold on.” Gorby puts a fist to his mouth and attempts to hold in a burp. He fails. “Why you so surprised that she knows, Tom? You kids were hitched, right? Didn’t she get the whole Christmas Eve rigmarole?”
“Thank you, Gorby,” Katherine says, leaning forward to peer around me and offer him a beaming smile. “Thank you for asking. Tom? You want to take this one?”
Shit. This conversation is long overdue, and yet right now, I’d rather be anywhere else.
“Don’t clam up now, Tom. This is great stuff,” Gorby says as he takes a long sip of soda. “We’re making good progress.”
“Progress?” Progress in what, the world’s weirdest couple’s therapy?
“Yeah, don’t clam up now, Tom!” Katherine gives me an encouraging pat on the shoulder and grins.
“Okay, fine. You really want to do this?” I ask her, raising a challenging eyebrow.
Her grin slips slightly because she knows as well as I do that we’re entering uncharted territory. But she must know too that it needs to be done.
“Rebecca and I are great listeners,” Gorby urges. “We have that Dr. Phil on all the time, and his rule number five for talking and listening is to be an active listener. Or was it rule number six?”
“Alright, Gorb. You asked for it.” I shift a little, putting my attention on him because it’s easier than looking at Katherine as I say this. “No. I did not propose to Katherine here on Christmas Eve, as is my family tradition.”
“I see.” Gorby nods. “And Katherine? How did that make you feel?”
He and I both look over at her.
She sniffs. “Indifferent. Once I learned about it.”
“Now, Katherine.” Gorby’s voice is slightly chiding. “We’re not going to get anywhere if we don’t get comfy with our feelings.”
“I don’t have those. Ask anyone.”
“Don’t,” I tell her quietly before I can think better of it. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t feel. Not with me. Katherine, you want to know why I didn’t propose on—”
“Wait. Stop.”
There’s a desperation in her command that I don’t understand. That I need to understand. “Why—”
“Please, Tom.” Her voice is calmer now but just as firm. “Let’s focus on the future. So we can both just . . . move on.”
“I thought we were supposed to get comfy with our feelings?” I say with a smile, trying to coax her to smile back.
She doesn’t. “Listen. I didn’t bust my ass to get you home by Christmas Eve so you could wallow down memory lane. Okay?”
I say nothing.
“Gorby? Don’t you agree? That Tom needs to focus on moving on?” It’s more command than question, and a tense silence follows, interrupted only by Gorby giving his soda one final mega sip.
The cab remains quiet except for his blissed-out ahhhhhhh before he speaks. “Well now, see, I hate to disagree with such a pretty lady, but . . .”
Katherine leans forward again, shoots the driver a murderous glare. “Gorby!”
I smile in spite of myself because it’s the same voice she uses with stubborn witnesses, recalcitrant clients, and opposing counsels. It works in the courtroom, and it works here too because Gorby clears his throat and nods.
“Now, Tom,” Gorby says. “Confronting our ghosts is good, but we can’t live in the past. You see the difference?”