California Fire And Life

95

Jack wakes up in Letty's bed.

At first he's like, Where the hell am I, but then he smells the Mexican coffee and remembers. Rolls out of the rack and comes into the kitchen and she's standing there by the toaster sipping on the strong coffee.

"I don't do the bacon-and-eggs thing," she says. "But I can offer you toast and coffee."

"Sounds great."

He plops down on a stool by her curved kitchen counter and looks out the window. The land slopes down through big, old black oak trees to some open pasture. Across a fence, horses are out grazing.

"Your horses?" Jack asks.

"The neighbor's," she says. "I ride them sometimes. You ride?"

"Just surfboards," he says.

"To each his own ride," she says, handing him a plate of buttered toast. She sits on the stool next to his. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to go in to the office," he says, "and clean out my desk."

"You think they're really going to fire you?"

Jack says, "If they don't, I'm going to quit anyway."

"You don't have to do that," she says.

"Yeah I do."

They sit and look out the window. It's pretty out there, Jack thinks. The trees and the pasture. Mountains in the background.

After a few minutes she asks, "So what are you going to do?"

"Dunno."

A few minutes later she says, "You could come here."

"You don't have to-"

"The house needs a remodel," she says. "You could be doing that. You know, fixing things-"

"Sleeping in your bed…"

"Well, that would be a bonus."

"For me."

"How gallant."

More coffee, more silence, more window gazing. Then she says, "It's a serious offer."

"Serious?"

"Sincere," she says, looking into her coffee cup. "And sudden. But look, how often do you get a second chance? I mean, me as well."

"Yeah," he says. "Same."

Thinking, you romantic bastard. Same. Nice going.

"Yeah?" she asks. Looks up at him now.

"Oh yeah."

"So," she says. "It's a serious sincere offer."

"Thanks," he says. "Can I think about it?"

Because he knows she's offering the whole package. Like this instant life – the home, the woman – and he knows she hasn't given up on the kids yet. Which is bad, because she should.

"Letty?"

"Jack?"

"You're not going to get the kids," he says. "It's over."

"For you maybe," she says. She gets up and starts to clean off the counter.

"Letty-"

"Look, you took your best shot and you lost," Letty says. "I'm not blaming you for anything, okay? I'm not calling up what you did twelve years ago and saying that cost me the kids. All I'm saying is that I owe those kids my best shot, even if you think it's a loser. I'm going to find a lawyer who'll take this in front of a judge, and if I lose I'll find another lawyer and another judge, and if I lose…"

"Okay."

"Okay," she says. "I gotta go to work. You want to come back here tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, you heard me? Or, yeah, you want to."

"Yeah, I want to."

They stand there looking at each other.

"So this is probably the moment when we kiss," she says.

"Yeah."

So they do kiss and then hold on to each other for a minute and he says, "What I did twelve years ago? It was the wrong thing to do. I should have just dropped the case."

"Probably."

"I mean that old man was more important than the case."

"I know that's what you meant."

She walks him out to the 'Stang and he takes off.

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