However Long the Night

Chapter Five

"What the ..."

"Don't question the Fletch, Skye. Just take it all in." Josh pulled the front door open with a flourish. "You're welcome."

Polished wooden floors gleamed, hidden speakers played the Top 40, and towering shelves were packed to the gills with merchandise - from garden gnomes to cuckoo clocks, barbecue gear to picnic blankets. Walking down the aisle, Will's nose filled with the smell of his childhood summers: lemon cleaning wax, freshly baked bread, and a whiff of campfire. Tucking a jumbo bag of marshmallows under his arm, he pulled three packs of hotdogs from the industrial fridge and paid at the back cash register.

On their way out, they made a pit stop at the ice cream counter. When Will was small, he and his parents always pulled over at Fletcher's for ice cream on the way to visit his grandpa. Will's order was the same every time: blue bubble gum in a waffle cone. He'd pick tiny pieces of gum from his two chilly scoops and pile them on a napkin in a gluey clump until the cone disappeared. Then he'd chew up the sticky mess, and they'd be on their way.

"Hey Don," Will nodded at the man behind the counter as a gentle mix of fondness and nostalgia turned his lips up into a grin.

Don Frances had scooped cones at Fletcher's for as long as Will could remember. Don looked like Popeye come to life: squinty-eyed, bow-legged and wiry with buzzed gray hair and tan, leathery skin. His scooping arm featured three tattoos from wrist to bicep: a bluebird with a gold key hanging from its beak, a buxom mermaid lounging on a rock, and a heart with a scroll that simply read, "Mom." But the most intriguing part of Don's appearance was that he'd been a 1 ever since Will was a kid. Some years, Don's 1 glowed, others it faded and sometimes it would flicker.

There were times when Will was sure he wouldn't last another year, but there he'd be, scooping away, flexing his bluebird, mermaid, and heart the following summer. They'd never done much more than exchange pleasantries, but somehow Don's stubborn 1 brought Will solace. After Alex's died, it felt like everything had gone to shit, but seeing Don Frances reminded Will that some people managed to weather life's storm, against all odds.   

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. Back for some summer scoops huh? What'll it be?" Don's 1 still burned deep in its pupil, daring Will to stare. Maybe some 1s were bulletproof; he'd like to think so, anyway. They took turns rhyming off their selections, and as Skye placed her order, Will couldn't help but hope Don's longevity might rub off on her somehow.

"So how's it going, Don?" Will searched the scooper's left pupil and a blistering white 1 practically winked at him.

"You know, son, I can't complain. Too stupid to leave, too stubborn to die." Don's rusty chuckle was a legacy of too many cigarettes and a stack of simple pleasures. They'd traded this exchange for years, and Don's response was always the same. Still, Will wished one day he'd reveal the secret to his 1. Did he come from a line of long-living relatives? Did he swear by the miracles of tinctures or cod liver oil? Did he rarely stray from home? Or was he just goddamned lucky?  Will didn't know if he'd ever find out, but Don's 1 continued to persevere, and maybe that was enough. 

They sat at a red painted picnic table on the grass behind Fletcher's and slurped their ice cream in the sun. Picking sticky gum from a soggy cone had long lost its appeal, so Will ate rocky road while Josh ploughed through a triple-decker mocha fudge. Shelby was quiet for once, lost in her cookies and cream, while Skye licked a butter pecan cone.

"Wow, Skye. Butter pecan, huh? You totally just ordered an old lady flavor," Will teased. "What's next, wine gums and black licorice?" When she wore her sunglasses, he could almost pretend her 1 away.

"Butter pecan's not an old lady flavor," Skye shot back. "It's classic. And, for the record? An old lady flavor would be mint chocolate chip." She stuck her tongue out at him, and he just laughed.