Until it Wasn’t

Excerpt from Crushed and Marred, book two of Where Dawson Lives by H. Kaeppel ©2020

I have to tell them, thought Dawson. Have to. It had been on his mind for weeks. At first it didn’t seem important, then he forgot about it, almost, and now he was having a crisis of conscience. His friends thought he was something that he wasn’t, or, more accurately, thought he wasn’t something that he was. Worse, if he didn’t tell them, they might find out in ways he’d rather they didn’t.

Piper called him often enough on her drive time. She kept him informed on her efforts to immerse into a new job and geography. The school in Florida was different than her previous placements in that poverty was a bigger factor. Her specialty remained learning disabilities in students with normal or high IQs. Her current placement was no less exciting and no less exhausting. As to community, she had quickly identified a church where she could be a youth ministry volunteer, just as she had when passing through the Valley.

It was a privilege to hear from her so regularly. He suspected the frequency would wane as she became part of a new team of ministry volunteers who would take his place as primary confidant. Should he let the natural course take place until he was off the hook for telling her? Maybe.

Hez and Jeff, however, weren’t going anywhere. I have to tell them.

***

Taking Piper to the airport would be his chance. If Dawson were to tell her, this would be a good time. Face to face was certainly important. But was it really necessary that he tell her at all? She lived far away, their lives were unlikely to intersect much after this. Yet here she was, and he didn’t think she’d be back. He stopped in the middle of flipping a burger to squeeze his eyes closed. He really did not want to admit this to anyone. Least of all, Piper. They were finally friends. He didn’t want to mess that up. Again.

Again and again. Didn’t Jesus say something about seventy times seven? He got that Jesus had forgiven him. Knew it, didn’t understand it, but knew it and accepted it. Forgiving himself, again, asking others to forgive him, again. That was different. He wanted his friends to stay friends. No drama. Just people caring for each other, helping each other out.

He flipped burgers, prepared platters, did all the usual mundane. He’d hired two new cooks who showed promise. It would soon be time to switch up his schedule. He couldn’t just work breakfast and lunch only to fill in on dinner as needed. He needed to work all three in order to maintain his skills and run his diner well. The new cooks would also allow him some more time for creating specials, doing admin, and having a life outside of work. Today though, it was still breakfast and lunch, and it was monotonous. In his mind he practiced what he’d say.

That last night in New York, at the fancy restaurant? I locked up after work and left because my sous chef was a lousy drunk and I was sick of it? Remember that story? If you do, you should know something. I didn’t exactly tell it right. It was me, not my sous chef. I was the one who was drunk. Drunk out of my mind. It was almost every night that I was that drunk. Often before closing, sometimes I was drunk at the start of work. It didn’t matter, I was a cracker-jack chef even if I wasn’t sober. Best around. And we’re talking restaurant row. Only place to be better than that is Paris. And I’d done well in Paris too. Dawson Chak, he doesn’t lose. I could cook and be stellar at it no matter how sloshed I got. And it was fun. Until it wasn’t. And by then I couldn’t stop.

Would Piper remember the rest? How the drunk sous chef, who was really him, had yelled at his wife, his second wife, and then yelled at his kid, a mere toddler? Dawson looked up, closed his eyes against the reality. No way could he tell that to Piper. Or to Jeff. They probably didn’t think it was possible for Dawson to have been any more of a lowlife than they already knew. Dawson didn’t relish proving them wrong. Wouldn’t it be better for him to continue sending money to his estranged wife, endure his self-imposed restraining order, and leave it be?