Better Than Nothing: Part 3 of On the Edge Series

Chapter 13

Perry Como and cooking with Mary were just the remedy to pull me from the day's thoughts. Although cooking was a bit of a stretch for what I was doing, she mainly tasked me with peeling and chopping. Still, I didn't mind. A joy sprung from Mary when she cooked, which was only amplified when cooking for her family. Sunday dinner was for the family. All the boys came over; five Collins boys and one Denning boy.

"How many grandkids will be running around here tomorrow?" I asked, as the bulk of my focus was on not cutting myself.

She let out a laugh, "running around; none. Jackson is the youngest."

"Oh, that makes sense. I forget Billy is the youngest sometimes."

"Really? Huh, I don't think anyone else has ever forgotten that aside from you." There was still a tone of jest in Mary's voice. I couldn't tell if it was from me accusing thirteen-year-old Jackson of running around like a toddler or of Billy acting like anything but the family's baby.

"But Jackson and Viv are with their mother this weekend," I added.

"Oh, they'll be here in time for Sunday dinner." Mary didn't adjust her focus and missed the wince on my face.

For some reason, that I was actively trying not to root out; I was looking to avoid Billy's kids. I wanted to pretend it was because kids mirror their parents, and I didn't want to see this new Billy up close, but any reflection pulled me to not wanting to see my father's reflections in Billy's parenting.

"James too," Mary added, shattering my thoughts. "That's it for the grandkids. Most are off starting up their lives." There was a wistful tone in her words. "They'll be home in a couple of weeks for Christmas."

The thought of Christmas made my stomach drop. I'd been avoiding all thoughts of the holiday. My only idea was that, without my father, it was a non-event looming at the end of the month.

"It's getting late," Mary spoke in a soothing, apologetic tone.

I realized she had thoroughly cleaned up the kitchen, barring the small pile of carrots before me. "Oh, sorry, I guess I haven't been great company tonight."

"Quiet company isn't poor company," she corrected. "Throw those in the fridge when you're done," she added before heading to bed.

I finished my pile and put them away before being pulled to my makeshift office by the lure of the record player. I settled on the couch as my favorite Billy Collins album spun on the turntable. The style was the same, but something about this album kept drawing me back. I scoured the liner notes for a clue as to what it was. The mix of dangerously close-to-happy love songs with Compelled to Yell stuck in there. A different song captivated me. It was a quick song that I hadn't paid too much attention to the first few listens. Billy tucked it in after Compelled to Yell. It was riff-driven, with a simple hypnotic heartbeat pounding through it. I stared down at the song called Something is Better Than Nothing. I played it over and over, trying to understand it. Billy was married at the time. He was still in that blissful state before everything crumbled. It'd be years before the cracks started to spiderweb out of control. But in this song, the narrator was cautioning and conditioning the listener, chastising them for their lack of emotion. Had the cracks already been present? Had Billy been lonely long before he acknowledged it?

"Hey," Tim answered on one ring. "Oh, I know that one. Still stuck on Compelled to Yell?" He let out a laugh.

"No, just background music," I lied.

"Mmhmm, and you're calling me in the middle of the night because you were thinking of me?"

"Maybe," I lied again.