Page 125 of Goose

His bottom lip quivered.

The totality of what was happening hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Maggie!” he yelled. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“You look good, Pop,” Goose said, stepping onto the porch. “You look healthy.”

The man pursed his lips and gave a nod. It was easy to see that he was on the verge of tears. “Eighteen…” He swallowed heavily. “Eighteen years, two months, and four days,” he said. “One day at a time.”

“Since what?” Goose asked.

I didn’t have to ask. I knew. My father had been in and out of Alcoholics Anonymous his entire life.

“Since I had a drink,” the man said.

Goose gulped. “What about Ma?”

“Eighteen years, two months, and a week. She dragged me in there against my will. Ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I’m proud of you, Pop.”

His father pursed his lips and gave a slight nod.

“Pop, I want you to meet someone,” Goose said.

I stepped onto the porch. My heart was aflutter. I extended a shaking hand. “Ally. Ally Ferretti.”

“Gordon Pearce.” A tear rolled along his cheek. “Senior.”

A woman nudged her way past Gordon Senior, all but knocking him down. She blew past me with a flash and landed against Goose’s chest with open arms. After a tear-filled hug, she leaned away and gave him a good look-over.

“You’re late,” she blubbered.

Goose wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm. “For what?”

She steadied her quivering lips. “Dinner.”

The three of them shed a tear together. Eighteen years of missed birthdays, lonely holidays, and the grueling process of maintaining sobriety trickled down their cheeks.

I joined them in their tears. Not out of sorrow, but out of joy. For what the future held. When the tears finally faded, Goose gestured in my direction.

“Ma, this is Ally,” Goose said. “We’re uhhm…”

He didn’t finish his thought.

I offered my hand, nonetheless. She hugged me instead, holding me tight against her. Being held in a woman’s arms was a feeling I’d never known. It felt all too natural.

While the three people surrounding me nursed their drying tears, another rolled down my cheek.

She released me, and then hugged me again, taking my breath from me when she did.

If Goose had been gone eighteen years, and his parents had been sober eighteen years, they’d sobered up just as soon as he left. I felt sad and happy at the same time. The look on Goose’s face told me he was elated to see them. The tears in their eyes let me know they felt the same way.

Shaking with excitement, his mother gestured toward the door. “Come in.” She reached for Goose’s hand with her left, and my hand with her right. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Hand-in-hand, we followed her into the home. We stayed for a dinner of pot roast, carrots, and potatoes. Afterward, we all had a slice of apple pie.

We sat around the table discussing Southern California’s weather and drinking coffee. There hadn’t been any apologies offered, nor were there any questions asked. Everyone simply picked up the pieces of what they had in front of them and put them together.