“Jack, all I’m saying is, truth’s a tricky son of a bitch,” Neil said as he refilled my coffee cup.
I sat on one of a dozen stools. Neil stood behind the counter. Except for the two of us, the diner was empty.
“That’s bull. Truth is truth,” I countered, pouring creamer into my coffee.
Studying me, Neil absentmindedly scratched his head with the eraser end of the pencil he kept behind his ear.. I knew I was in for one of his long-winded analogies.
“My favorite pie is pecan,” he began, “but Mary doesn’t like it, the boys either, but every year for Thanksgiving, she makes one just for me. Last Year she burned it. She got busy and forgot to set a timer. Mary felt awful and wanted to make another one but it was only a couple of hours until we ate, and she already had her hands full and ...”
He straightened a stack of crumpled newspapers as he rattled on. I sipped coffee, only half listening. Over the years, I’d become pretty good friends with Neil and his wife, Mary, the owner-operators of Big Ed’s Diner. Neil was a likable guy, balding with a bit of a gut, ‘self-inflicted’ he liked to say. Mary was a pretty little thing with red hair and freckles.
“...so I told her it wasn’t burned, it was toasted.”
“Sounds to me like you lied to her.” I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. I ignored it.
“No, I didn’t lie. Burnt and toasted are…” he chewed on the pencil, “…a matter of opinion.”
“You do know, from now on, you’re gonna get burnt pecan pie?”
Neil’s expression told me he hadn’t thought of that.
“Damn; now I want pie,” I grumbled and leaned sideways to see the dessert board blocked by Neil’s stocky frame. “What kind of pie you got?”
“Apple, pumpkin, chocolate cream,” he rattled off.
“No, pecan?”
“Nope, pecans are too expensive.”
“Pumpkin then, with extra topping.”
Neil buried a piece of pumpkin pie in whipped cream and set it down in front of me.
Picking up my fork, I said, “You know what I think? You didn’t want Mary to make another pecan pie because you’re cheap.”
“I’m not cheap, I’m frugal. There’s a difference.”
I laughed..
Neil scowled. “Pecans are pricey, that’s true. But Mary had her hands full. That was true too.”
“So toasted was a lie.” I declared.
“No, it wasn’t. They’re all true. Like I said, truth is tricky.”
As I whittled the pie down to its fluted edge Neil filled and wiped off the salt and pepper shakers in silence. This wasn’t normal. He always had something to say and it was making me uneasy.
Finally, Neil ran a hand through what hair he had left, and said, “So, here’s some truth. I’m worried about Mary.”
“Why? Is she sick?”
“No, nothing like that. She’s been, well, different lately; distracted and nervous-like. Also, she joined a book club. It meets two nights a week. But here’s the thing. I never see her reading a magazine, let alone a book.” He exhaled, “Jack, I think she’s cheating on me.”
I make myself meet his gaze. “That—doesn’t sound like Mary,”
“Well, I don’t know what else to think!” His voice was thick.
My phone vibrated again.
“Oh, damn. I gotta go.” I stood up and patted the cell phone in my pocket. Neil looked like he was going to cry.
Geez oh, man. I sat back down.
“Listen Neil. Mary loves you. Only God knows why you bald buzzard. And, don’t you know people use smartphones to read books now?”
“Really?”
“Yup, my sister does it all the time. She even has an app that reads the book out loud in a man’s Scottish brogue. She’s always had a thing for a man in a skirt.”
Neil chuckled and wiped at his eyes.
“I think it’s good Mary has something to do besides chase after those boys you two keep producing. What is it now? Three or four?”
“Three.”
“Three carbon copies of you? Huh! You better treat her like a goddess before she comes to her senses. Buy her some flowers or, I don’t know, scented candles.
“Mary does like scented candles.” Neil scratched his head with the pencil.
Time for me to get the hell outta here. I reached for my wallet.
“Put that away, Jack. It’s on me today.” He came around the counter and squeezed my shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Jack, a damed good friend.”
“Thanks, Neil. I appreciate it. Tell Mary hi for me.”
“I sure will.”
When I got to my truck I looked back and saw Neil smiling as he wiped down the counter then checked my phone. Two messages from Mary.
Neil’s right. Truth is a tricky son of a bitch.