Hearing this, Claire popped her head out of the bathroom, spotted the embedded tile, shook her head and calmly remarked, “Now you’ll have to fix that, too.” Then, without another word, she returned to her work in the bathroom, knowing that Ty’s temper had just been extinguished by the momentarily violent outburst and nothing more needed to be said.
Whenever Ty remembered anything about Claire, his mind would then take him back to the night of the accident. How beautiful she looked standing there in the rain, with the bright headlights shining through the downpour. The lights reflecting off the ribs of the umbrella created a halo over his angel’s head…
Ty was suddenly brought back to reality, rousted from his visit to the past by the trilling of the phone on the chair-side table. Startled, the .380 automatic dropped from his hand. He didn’t recall picking up the Walter’s PPH, but there it was. When the phone rang again, he quickly picked it up and spoke.
“Hello,” he said, in a shaking voice.
‘Dad, are you all right?’ his son, Lonnie, anxiously questioned.
“Sure, never better. I was just checking my email and dozed off for a moment,” he lied. ‘How long had that gun been in his hand?’ Ty’s mind was reeling.
‘Just called to wish you a happy birthday and see if there was anything you needed. You got any plans for the evening?’ Lonnie asked.
“No,” Ty replied. “Probably just watch some TV and go to bed early, as usual.”
‘How about I pick up a DVD along with some beer and your favorite pizza? We’ll make an evening of it.’ Lonnie was fishing for clues. He knew his dad well enough to tell something was amiss.
“That would be nice. Actually, I could use some company,” said Ty. After speaking, Ty realized that wasn’t a lie. Like a quiet cry for help, he really was feeling the need for the presence of another person tonight, not wanting to be alone with ghosts. “See ya soon. Oh, and make it Guinness. I’m in the mood for a stout, tonight,” he said before hanging up.