Ace
Morningside Assisted Living wasn’t where Ace normally would have chosen to spend his Friday afternoon. One of the reporters of the Wilmingson Herald had gone on maternity leave, though, so Bud had given her stories to Ace. It meant more hours, so he wasn’t complaining. Besides, it was actually kind of fun.
The residents were having their annual Elder Olympics, with activities like walker racing and a chess tournament. At the moment, Constance Whitaker was beating the competition in a Moon Pie eating contest. Ace watched from his spot in the dining hall, surrounded by two dozen residents. Some of them, he recognized from when he lived in Wilmingson before. Mrs. Danson had played the organ when he and his dad went to church. She had also made a fantastic cherry pie. And then there was Mr. Kearney, his former high school principal. He had grown up with these people and knew them as well as he knew himself.
When time was called, Constance was declared the winner, and Ace snapped a photo of the attendant placing a medal around her neck. Constance beamed and made a fake bow before walking down off the stage. Ace approached, looking for a quote or two.
“Hey Mrs. Whitaker,” he said with a smile.
“Well hello, Ace! I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I’m working with the Herald on the Elder Olympics story.”
“Oh really?” Constance led him over to one of the tables in the back of the dining hall and took a seat. “I’m glad to see you still over there. We can’t tell you how good it is to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back,” he said.
And it was. Somewhere along the way, living in Wilmingson had gone from the last possible place he wanted to be, to somewhere he could see himself settling down.
“We were so sorry to hear about your father.” Constance slid her hand over to settle on top of his. “He was such a lovely man. Always came in on Fridays to play Bingo with us.”
Ace’s smile was tight. The loss of his father was still raw, even six months on. If he’d been able to grieve at the time, it might have been better. As it were, he felt like he could only properly mourn now that he was back.
“He was a good guy. I miss him a lot.”
“I bet you do.” Her tone was warm and gentle.
When he’d lived here before, Constance had been the librarian, and one of Ace’s favorite people in town. She always saved copies of Time and National Geographic for him. When he’d gotten the internship with National Geographic, she had sent him a card with a hundred dollars to congratulate him. He still had that card.
“Bud treating you well down at the Herald? If he’s working you too hard, just let me know and I’ll say something to him.”
Ace laughed, some of the tension easing out of him. “No, he’s not working me too hard. I like the stories I’m getting.”
“Nothing like you would have gotten back in Boston, I bet.”
“No, not really,” he admitted.
The pieces he normally got were follow-ups to stories that had made the first page a week earlier. Only his were never first page articles. Usually, they were relegated to the third or fourth page. The Elder Olympics piece was important enough to be the lead story of the Herald.
“I’m sure you miss it,” Constance said. “You were always the boy who was going to take the world by storm. The next Bob Woodward, you said.”
His throat grew tight at the memory. He wanted to go out and change the world. When she put it that way, it made what he was doing here seem so small.
“But you know,” she continued, “you can do so much here. Everyone knows Bob Woodward’s name. He was famous, of course they did. But no one—at least no one around here—knew the man. So no, you may not be the next Bob Woodward. But you might be the next Jack Sherridan.”
Ace didn’t know what to say, so instead, he cleared his throat and nodded.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t bring me over here to talk about your career. You had questions to ask.”
Right. Back to work. He pulled his pencil from behind his ear and flipped open his steno.
***
An hour and a half later, he opened the door to his car and climbed back inside, Constance’s words still in his mind. His father had been a good man. Everyone in town knew him and respected him. No, he hadn’t been famous, but he hadn’t wanted to be. He’d made his life here because he loved the people. Just like Ace could love the people. One person, in particular.
The tinny chime of his cell phone made him jump. He fished the phone out of his pocket, and looked down at the screen. His mouth went dry. It was Catherine. He took a deep breath and answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Arin?
“Yes, this is he.”
“This is Catherine Post with the New York Register. How are you today?”
“I’m doing pretty well,” he said, heart pounding in his throat. “How are you?”
“Oh, not so bad. I’m calling in regards to the associate section editor position. After reviewing the candidates, Nick and I agree, we’d like to offer you the job.”
Ace was speechless. If he were being honest with himself, he hadn’t actually thought he would make it to this point, where he had to actually choose where he wanted to end up.
“Arin, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here,” he said quickly.
“Great. We want to offer you a starting salary of $60,000, with a comprehensive health insurance package and two weeks of paid time off.”
The salary was nothing to sneeze at. It wasn’t an extravagant amount of money, and he would still probably have to have a roommate or resign himself to living in a shoebox. But he would be back in a city again, with all the perks and benefits it had to offer. Two months ago, he wouldn’t have even needed to consider it. He would have taken the job and never looked back. But instead of saying yes, he thought back to the Thanksgiving dinner the week before, and Joel’s opinion on the matter. There was something special about Wilmingson. His name was Phoenix.
“Thank you so much for letting me know.” His words were chosen with care. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful, in case he did end up wanting to take the job. “Would it be all right if I took a few days to think it over?”
“Of course. How about I give you until the end of next week to decide?”
It wasn’t nearly as much time as he would have liked, but he still had seven days to decide.
“That sounds good with me. I’ll let you know.”
“Great. I look forward to hearing from you.”
They each said goodbye and Ace stared at the phone after she hung up. Well shit. Logically, he knew that he would have had to decide one way or another. Even if he hadn’t gotten this job, he would have had to choose whether to apply for others or take the position at the Chronicle. He realized, though, that a part of him had been hoping he wouldn’t get the job in New York, and he would have more time to decide what he wanted.
Taking a deep breath, he started his car and pulled out of the parking lot. But he didn’t head home, or to an interview, or even Phoenix’s. He needed a different kind of advice.
Ten minutes later, Ace pulled into Willow Grove Cemetery. The name was something of a misnomer. There were no willows to speak of, much less an entire grove. He parked his car and climbed out, heading down a row of tombstones.
His parents were located at the top of the hill that overlooked the town. In the past, when his dad had been alive, they had come every year to put flowers on his mom’s grave. It felt a bit strange, being here with nothing to offer.
The flowers on either side of the tombstone were looking a little worse for wear. No one had changed them out since his dad’s funeral, and the sun from the summer had faded the bright orange to a dull peach. He would have to replace them soon with something more appropriate for fall, or even winter, since it was just around the corner.
Clearing his throat, Ace took a seat at the foot of the grave. It was the strangest sensation—almost as though he were a child sitting on the foot of their bed. Well, this was an eternal resting place, after all.
“Hi guys.” The words came out a little hoarser than he intended them to, but his throat was tight. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit lately. I mean, I know it doesn’t make a difference to you. It isn’t like you know I’m here. But I could use a little help. I don’t know what kind of a sign I’m expecting, or if I’ll even get one.”
He looped a piece of grass around his finger, then pulled it out of the ground. It was dead anyway, just like everything else in the cemetery.
“I got a job offer in New York. It’s a good job. Good benefits, and it’s in a city. You know how much I always wanted to be in a city. But… I don’t know I want to move there. I should have told you. You remember Phoenix Wrenn? You probably don’t, but you might know his parents. Well, we’re um… we’re together. And I really like him. And I think I might like living here, too. You weren’t expecting that, were you.”
What was he even doing here? It wasn’t like his parents could hear him. Though he had grown up in the church, he didn’t believe in any kind of an afterlife, as comforting as it would have been right about now. His parents weren’t going to magically provide him with an answer. But there was still something about being here and sitting with them that he found soothing.
“Working in New York is all I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “It could lead to something big. Like, National Geographic big. I want to do something like that again. But I can’t just leave Phoenix.”
Just the thought pained him. Phoenix deserved someone who was completely content to stay in Wilmingson. Not someone who was constantly on the fence. He couldn’t have a foot in both worlds. It didn’t work like that.
“I can’t ask him to come with me, either.”
Doubtless, Phoenix’s career would thrive in New York City. He would have exhibits in every gallery in the city. But he would also be miserable, and that was if Ace could convince him to go. The choice he had to make was clear: his job or the man he quite possibly loved.
His heart skipped at that.
Of all the revelations he expected to have here, that wasn’t one of them. But as he thought back over the past few weeks, he knew it was true. There was a very big chance he loved Phoenix. Any decision Ace made would have to be made with him in mind.
The chirp of his phone made him jump, and Ace pulled it out of his pocket to see a new text notification. Speak of the devil.
Phoenix: Are we still on for tonight?
Ace: Sure thing. Want me to come by around 6?
Phoenix: Sounds good. Pizza okay with you? I don’t cook well.
Ace: As long as you bake well, you can serve me just about anything ;)
Phoenix: You say that now, but my hamburgers have been mistaken for hockey pucks before.
Ace: Maybe not, then. Pizza is fine. You pick out a movie yet?
Phoenix: I didn’t know what you liked.
Ace: Anything but horror. I’m not picky.
He stared at the texts, his stomach in knots. The thought of sitting through dinner and a movie and pretending that everything was fine didn’t sit well with him. He realized, then, that it wasn’t enough for him to make the choice with Phoenix in mind. Phoenix needed to be part of the decision process. Whatever choice he made, it needed to be one that was made together. It was the only way he would be able to live with himself.