“What the hell is he doing here,” snarled Landon. In person, Merrick Landon was not at all the grumpy decrepit old-timer Colasanti expected. He was in surprisingly good shape, had only a touch of grey, albeit thinning, blackish hair. His face was clean-shaven and outside of a map of wrinkles on his forehead, maintained a relatively unblemished complexion. All of that was diminished, however, by the obvious look of disgust on his face.

Even with Chesterton, herself not projecting the warmest personality, standing to greet Landon with open arms, Landon stood rigidly and coldly, even brusque in his mannerisms towards Chesterton.

“Merrick, have you met Phil Colasanti?” she asked, reaching for Merrick’s right arm.

“We haven’t had the pleasure, have we, Phil?” Merrick’s brittle words seemed to shatter in the air as soon as they left his mouth.

“Merrick, don’t blame Lindsay here. I asked to ride shotgun on this visit with you.”

Merrick turned toward Chesterton. “Honestly, I am very disappointed, Lindsay.”

“Merrick, please sit down and let me explain.” Chesterton had moved to a spot almost behind him and tried to push him to the open seat between her and Colasanti. Merrick was having none of it, though.

“What’s to explain? This goon has been hounding me for months and has now used you for it.”

“What do you want, Merrick?” asked Karen, clueless to the dynamics, as she approached the table. “The usual Killian’s?”

“I’m not staying, Karen.”

“Get him the Killian’s, please,” Colasanti said, standing up. “If need be, in a few minutes I will leave.”

“Please, Merrick, just sit for a couple of minutes. I really do want to see you and catch up. If Mr. Colasanti’s presence here becomes a bother, I will demand he leave.” Lindsay let out a small gurgle as she pulled the chair out for him.

Karen hesitated, waiting to see if Merrick would sit. With a wave of Colasanti’s hand she was off to the bar. Meanwhile, Merrick moved toward the chair.

Seated, almost as rigidly as he had been standing, he turned towards Lindsay. “Honestly, Lindsay, I am really pissed at you right now.”

“I understand. You deserve to be. You may not believe me, but I probably want some of the same answers from Mr. Colasanti that you might want.”

“I want nothing from him.”

“O.k., then answers that Cheryl would want.” Lindsay had taken a sip of the white wine she was drinking. Colasanti appeared to have only a Coke.

“That’s a low blow, Lindsay.” Merrick could feel tears welling in his eyes.

“No, it isn’t, Merrick. That scholarship you and Cheryl set up in my name wasn’t really to honor me. It was to honor Cheryl and her passion to help young people find their voices in a deafening world of din and discord. I want to know why the college stopped the scholarship.” As Merrick had not forgotten, her speech was occasionally punctuated by a slight gurgle.

Karen had returned with Merrick’s beer. “I assume you all need a few minutes?”

“Yes, hon,” said Colasanti, “thanks.”

Merrick bristled at Colasanti’s use of ‘hon,’ a term he would have found insulting even if he didn’t know Karen. He also could sense Lindsay’s displeasure.

Colasanti, however, seemed completely oblivious. “I should say right away that I have no idea why that scholarship died. It was before my time. However, as the new guy in the place, literally and figuratively, I would be delighted to rectify the situation.”

Merrick groaned. This guy really was like all the others.

Lindsay had grabbed Merrick’s arm to pull his attention back to her. “Merrick, did you stop contributing to that scholarship when Cheryl died?”

Merrick could feel his eyes motioning. “Oh, God,” he barely whispered. “If anything, we both hoped it would be her legacy.”

Colasanti noted that Landon hadn’t exactly answered Lindsay’s question. “Look, Merrick,” Colasanti interjected patiently, “I can find no documentation in the college’s files about your 2023 donation, which seems odd. Ed Sykes seemed to have kept copious documentation, yet there is nothing in that file. Do you have any insight?”

“Well, I was gone by then. How the hell would I know?”

Colasanti ignored the snideness. “I just thought that maybe you knew. Besides, that was the last time you donated anything to the college.”

Merrick took a long glug of his Killian’s.  “Maybe you should be talking to Robert Collins.”

Colasanti drained his own Coke. “Collins isn’t here. And I’m guessing he would be of little help. Besides, it’s you I care about.”

Merrick snorted. “You care about me? That’s a joke!”

Lindsay grabbed his arm again. “Even if he doesn’t, I do, Merrick. When I saw you at Cheryl’s funeral, you clearly were hurting, not just from her death but from a number of things you blamed on the college. It’s been almost four years, Merrick, let it out.”

“You all ready to order?” Karen had arrived at the table again. Lindsay and Colasanti looked at Merrick.

“I guess everyone’s waiting on me. I ain’t walking out yet, so I might as well get my free meal out of this. Give me the Cajun pasta, Karen.”

Colasanti smiled and held his hands out to Chesterton. “And you, Lindsay?”

“I’ll take a Reuben with fries. And another Chardonnay.”

Colasanti grabbed the menus from the table, handing them to Karen. “I’ll do the Mediterranean Salad. And I’ll take a refill.”

“Got it.” Karen hustled away from the table.

“I need to hit the facilities,” Merrick said, rising from his chair. “Don’t worry, I won’t sneak out.”

In the men’s restroom, the pain and humiliations of 2022 came back to Merrick in a rush. He leaned with his right arm on the wall above the urinal and let everything come flowing. It all started with that phone call while he nursed Cheryl when HR informed him the advising staff was being reduced and its director position being eliminated. Was he really prepared to relive those agonizing six months culminating in the worst Christmas and New Year’s he could ever imagine? He reminded himself that he could get up and leave whenever he felt like it. He didn’t even have to worry about the tab.

When he returned to the table, he was surprised to see Lindsay sitting there alone.  She had let her glasses fall around her neck by their silver chain. “Where’s the goon?” he sneered.

Lindsay gurgled a laugh. “Oh, Merrick, you never change. Phil had to step outside to take a call.”

Merrick grunted in approval, then sat down and took another sip of his beer.

“So, how have you been, Merrick?”

“O.k., I guess. I’ve been reading a lot.”

“You always read a lot. Both you and Cheryl. I never knew a couple to read so much.”

“Yeah, but at the time I was too busy reading non-fiction. Too intent on staying up on educational theory and the world at large. After the funeral, I decided I needed to finally read the literature that Cheryl had been teaching for years. I took her syllabi for 20^th Century Literature classes and started reading all of that.”

“How sweet!” Lindsay sipped at her wine. “I know Cheryl is smiling somewhere.”

“I hope. She might not have been too keen on my swearing as I read Faulkner. I’m still not sure I understood much of him.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Merrick, she would appreciate the effort.”

Merrick sighed. “She would have appreciated it more when alive. The conversations we could have had.” He was peeling the label off of his emptying beer bottle. “Let me know when you see Karen, I will want another.”

“That’s good, Merrick. Thank you for staying.”

“To be honest, I am not sure why I am. I guess it’s for you.”

“I appreciate that Merrick. Look, the goon’ may hit you up for money before the night is over. Don’t let that be an expectation. I just think there’s some minefields on your path to peace and maybe we can remove them with some discussion.”

Merrick nodded half-heartedly.

“Anyway, how’s Donegan?”

“He’s good. Getting older, too. I think he still misses Cheryl, also.”

Lindsay drained her wine. “We all do, Merrick. I wanted you to know that my next book of poems will be devoted to Cheryl. I think of her so often.”

Karen had returned to the table. “Looks like you might need refills? Food shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Definitely for me.” Merrick looked at Lindsay. “How about for you? I assume this is all on ‘the goon’s’ bill?”

“It is,” Lindsay laughed, “but I do have to drive back tonight. Can you switch mine to a sparkling water?”

“Of course.” Karen bustled away.

“Where is he?” Merrick asked, looking toward the front door. “Not that I am in a hurry to get him back, but it seems bad form to surprise me and then ignore me.”

Lindsay smiled. “When he gets back, let it all loose, Merrick, whatever haunts you. If it’s any consolation, all of these grievances probably pre-date him.”

“I know.”

The gap in the conversation reminded Merrick of how social settings could bring him anxiety. He was no longer sure what constituted appropriate small talk. Certainly not politics, maybe not even the weather since that usually descended into arguments about climate change.

“Oh God, my manners. What have you been up to, Lindsay?” he asked.

“Teaching and writing mostly. I got Associate Professor at SIU last year.”

“Congratulations. Carbondale’s a nice town I hear.”

“It is, but I actually live in a small town outside of it, Cambria. I like my privacy.”

“Sounds like a good deal all around.” Merrick could feel his legs getting restless. He really wasn’t used to socializing.

“Yeah, whatever. That’s what six collections of poetry will get you: a new title, a small raise, an acre of land, and two fewer classes to teach a year.”

Merrick smiled. “I might as well ‘fess up that I still struggle with poetry, skipping much of the poets Cheryl had on her syllabus.”

“Here comes, Colasanti. Thought I should give you a heads up. And you should go back and try the poetry. I guarantee that will please, Cheryl.”

“Sorry about that,” Colasanti said as he pulled his chair out. “When the President calls, everything else must come to a halt. But I don’t need to tell you that, Merrick. I bet you don’t miss any of that at all.”

Karen had returned with Merrick’s beer and Lindsay’s water, accompanied by Mario with their food.

After all was settled with the drinks and dinners, Colasanti looked directly at Merrick. “I’m finding out, Merrick, that even if you don’t miss the old job, a lot of people at Hefford miss you.”

Merrick grunted in appreciation while biting into his hot and decadent pasta.

“Merrick, I know enough about the circumstances surrounding your departure and Cheryl’s passing that I won’t pretend I can offer any apologies on behalf of the college. From the little I know of how Collins handled things, I would be outraged too. To Lindsay’s interest here, did all of that affect the continuation of the scholarship?”

Merrick set his fork down and stared first at Colasanti and then at Lindsay. He could see her eyes moistening. Self-conscious, she quickly wiped at them and pulled her glasses back up over her eyes.

“When Cheryl started that scholarship, it was with the understanding that the college would grow it beyond our donations by seeking out additional donors. As you both know, $2500 a year would barely cover the cost of a year’s tuition, undergraduate or graduate for any aspiring writer. Josephine Walsh promised us that they would actively reach out to donors to increase the principal.”

“Walsh?” Colasanti interrupted him, his mouth full of lettuce. “She’s like three of my predecessors ago.?

“Uh-huh. There’s not a lot of longevity in your department, Phil,” Merrick snarled.

“Don’t I know it. I guess I should have figured that out going by the years. What I don’t understand is that you kept giving to that scholarship long after she was gone, heck, long after Myron Adams had left the building.”

“Well, that became the problem. When Cheryl discovered how little, well, how nothing, had been added to the principal after our donations, she asked for a meeting with Sykes and President Collins.”

“To be honest,” Colasanti began before Merrick cut him off.

“Hah. ‘To be honest,’ has never set up the most innocent of remarks.”

“Touché,” laughed Colasanti, “but to finish my thought, it might be hard to find many people willing to support a poetry scholarship.”

Merrick could feel the heat from Lindsay’s glare. She let out a gurgle.

Colasanti looked across the table and held his hands up. “No offense, Lindsay. You probably no better than anyone how poets aren’t exactly tucking away thousands of dollars.”

Lindsay continued to glare. Merrick focused on his pasta. After a few seconds, Lindsay settled back into her seat. “You are correct, Phil. Is that how Collins and Sykes explained the issue to you, Merrick?” she asked.

Merrick snorted. “Hah, both claimed to have no clue about that expectation.”

Colasanti jumped back in. “I could see Sykes not knowing because of the transitions. You must have set that up well before Collins, who came to Hefford in, what, 2017? Is that something any President would even know about? Seems beneath his scope of duties.”

Merrick took another drink of his beer. “Never underestimate the micromanagement of a person like Collins. I don’t know if he should have known, but I am betting he did. Even more importantly, he probably should have been more supportive of his donor and employee in that meeting. Instead, he clearly just blew Cheryl off, told her it was not that big of a deal, that the creative writing program needed to be cut anyway. He ranted that he couldn’t sell “creative writing” degrees anymore.”

“Bastard,” muttered Lindsay as she wiped thousand island dressing from the corner of her mouth, then adding a particularly loud gurgle.

“That is unfortunate,” offered Colasanti.

Merrick snorted, almost spewing pasta on the table. “Unfortunate?” He looked at Lindsay. “Do people really respond like this?”

Lindsay shrugged. ‘So, did you stop contributing at that point, Merrick?”

“No, Cheryl wanted it to continue for at least a couple more years to cover students already enrolled in the program.”

“That sounds like Cheryl.”

“Yea, she was the heart of this partnership. I wanted to cut it off right then.”

“So,” started Colasanti after a few seconds of silence, “Collins hardly endeared himself to you through those last few years between this and his restructuring of your staff while you were caring for your wife. I have to admit, I agree with Lindsay’s categorization of him as a bastard. I don’t blame you for staying completely clear of the college as you have, Merrick.”

Merrick, who was scraping the bottom of his bowl of pasta, grunted in agreement.

“So, why did you decide to do one more big donation? $25,000?”

Merrick pushed his bowl to the side and moved his beer to directly in front of him. There was about a quarter of the bottle left. He was determined to leave when the bottle was drained, regardless of the situation for the other two.. The night had ended up being more draining than he would have liked. “That was Cheryl’s last wish.”

“Why am I not surprised?” gurgled Lindsay.

“What was the specific wish, Merrick?” Colasanti had barely touched his salad.

“That the money could only be applied once Collins left.”

Colasanti snorted. “What?”

Lindsay gurgled. “How can that be? I don’t understand.”

Merrick just smiled. “Cheryl had dictated a letter in those last few days that her will had a clause that provided Hefford receive $25,000 toward student scholarships, but only once Collins was no longer associated with the college.”

Colasanti chortled. “That’s insane. A demand that he be fired or quit?”

“Of course, not. Cheryl knew it was only a matter of time before that smooth-talking son-of-a-bitch took a position elsewhere. Hefford had clearly become too small for him. She knew he was looking. She just appreciated getting a little dig in once he did leave. Sure enough, by the end of 2023, Collins had left for V.P.I. and the college got the donation close to the anniversary of her death. Of course, she didn’t live to get to celebrate the moment. I savored it all the more, especially since the coward never came to her funeral.”

“I think that explains why there was no documentation in Sykes’ files. In a way, this is all really fascinating.” Colasanti had drained his cola.

Karen had come by to clear plates. “You can take mine, too,” said Colasanti pushing the half-eaten salad away.

“Anyone interested in coffee or dessert?”

Colasanti looked at his two companions. “I’d like some coffee. You two?”

Lindsay looked at her phone to check the time. “I’ll take a quick coffee. I do need to hit the road soon.”

“None for me, Karen,” said Merrick, “it will keep me up all night. Besides, I think I am going to skedaddle soon.”

After Karen walked away, Colasanti reached over and grabbed Merrick’s left arm. Merrick began to recoil but told himself to relax.

“Merrick, I really appreciate you staying to chat with me, and I apologize if I ruined what you hoped would be a pleasant reunion with Lindsay. If you two decide to get together again, let me know. It will be on me. Just phone me to set it up.”

Lindsay peered at Colasanti through the bottom of her glasses. “I will take you up on that, Phil. Besides, Merrick, we really shouldn’t go four years between seeing each other. We owe that to Cheryl.”

“I know.” Merrick hung his head sheepishly.

“Look, Merrick, before you leave. I don’t blame you for the bitterness you feel toward Hefford. I really don’t. But Collins and Sykes are gone. Miranda sends her best, Katie Williams from my office says ‘hello,’ as do many others. The good work that you and Cheryl did never goes away. If you ever want to engage with the college again, you will be most welcomed.”

“Yeah. You just want my money.”

“Merrick, if you want to support the college, its mission or its students, I will be there to help you figure out the way to do it. However, if all you want to do is simply come back and see some folks, I would be the first to help support that. Everything is your choice from here on out, even if you go home and simply file this evening away.”

Merrick looked toward the front door. He could see it was raining outside. He was tired, more than normal, but was sure the beer had a lot to do with that. He’s have to let Donegan out in the rain, never a pleasant experience. “I’ll think about it. I need to get home to my dog.”

Lindsay stood up. “Give the big lug a hug for me. And thanks for being a good sport through all of this. I am sorry that we surprised you.” She gave him a big hug.

Colasanti held out his hand. “Thanks, Merrick. I am really glad we finally met.”

Merrick nodded to both of them, waved at Karen and Maureen and went out the door.

Back home, after peeing Donegan and getting pretty soaked despite the raincoat he put on, Merrick poured himself a small glass of scotch and sat down in his recliner. Donegan, still stinking from the rain, lay at his feet. He swirled the glass and thought about the night. He did feel a little better unloading some of the history. Since Jeremian Watson had died, much of his bitterness had remained locked inside. Part of him, though, still felt put out by being ambushed, especially Lindsay’s role in it. He was tempted to write her an angry letter, but somewhere he could hear Cheryl telling him, “get over it.”

He looked around the room. He had his pictures of Cheryl, their books, Donegan, a house full of memories but not necessarily one of a future plan.

Sighing, he headed up the stairs to the bedroom, Donegan slowly following him.

As he got into bed, he looked upwards. “Oh, Cheryl,” he said to the empty room, “what do I do? I know you were so much more forgiving than I am. I need you to anchor me in times like this, otherwise I just bounce around on my sea of disappointment. I wish you were here to guide me.” Eyes filling with tears, he turned off the bedside light, Donegan panting at the foot of the bed. “C’mon, dummy, get on up here.” He thought about finishing The Color Purple, but decided to wait until tomorrow when he could concentrate more.

After a couple of seconds, he felt Donegan’s weight on the bed. Merrick shifted to his left, expecting to feel the dog’s warm body, but he felt nothing. He patted the middle of the bed with his hand, but still nothing. He turned over to switch his light back on. Turning back, he found Donegan snuggled up against the pillow where Cheryl would have slept. He growled contentedly.

“Well, what do you know?” Merrick smiled. He went to turn out the light again and paused, turning to look at the dog again. “What do you know, my old friend?” The dog stared back at him, wondering about the hesitation to their slumber. Merrick looked around the room at the decorations, the curtains, the artwork, the carpet, the bedspread, that had been entirely Cheryl’s doing. He glanced at his bedside table where The Color Purple rested. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He vowed to make a few calls in the morning, then turned out the light.

Part One

Part Two