Did you catch Monday's feature and read this short story yet by Parker Owens? At just a few thousand words, you can read it and leave your comment, likes, or reviews immediately. Share what you think! 

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He raised a dark eyebrow.

I tried again. “You were friends, then.”

“Jamie was my partner.”

“I thought—”

“My fiancé,” Sarafian clarified with a trace of bitterness.

I stood motionless as the world swayed around me for a moment. My brother’s fiancé?

“You didn’t know he had one, did you?”

I reeled. I shook my head to clear it and stared at the sod. So many untold stories lay beneath it now. “No. Jamie never said a word.”

“I’m not surprised. When was the last time you and Jamie talked?”

I held him with a blank stare, mute. To say it had been far too long since any conversation with my brother occurred was unnecessary.

Ed took a step closer. “Maybe we ought to talk someplace more comfortable. I don’t know about you, but it’s getting warm.”

“What did you have in mind?” I managed to get out.

“How about an iced cappuccino, Robert? There’s a place not too far from here.”

My head was full of unaccounted and unruly facts, which whirled like drifts of fallen leaves in an autumn wind. Coffee, any kind of coffee, sounded good at that moment.

I nodded.

Wordlessly, we turned and walked to the cars, he to a gracefully aged Jeep Cherokee, and me to my soulless silver Nissan rental.

I followed him through the sprawling cemetery, meandering in a slow loop back to the main entrance. Partner. Fiancé. The words echoed in the back of my head like a GPS chanting directions to an unknown destination.

How the hell could I not have known?

Sarafian signaled a right turn outside the gate onto Pershing. He waited for a longer gap in the busy traffic than necessary, so I could follow more easily. In short order, he slid over to the left, so as to get in the turning lane at the next light. With the green arrow, he swung the SUV around in a U-turn, leaving me with no choice but to grind my teeth and copy him, not knowing if the maneuver was legal or not.

We passed the cemetery again from the other direction, and I began to wonder where we were headed. I shouldn’t have chafed, because he signaled right again and slowed. I followed the Cherokee into a mini-plaza containing a liquor store, a pet supply emporium and a plain storefront for what I assumed was a coffee shop. I parked next to him and exited my car.

“Nice maneuver back there,” I commented, trying to show some humor.

“You want to wait to turn against four lanes of traffic?”

I had to grin. Sarafian didn’t seem like a bad guy, at least. “So where are we?”

“Manu’s.” He pointed to the sign painted on the window. “My cousin runs the place.”

“So I get to meet your cousin?” I joined him in walking across the lot toward the door.

“Not here. He’s at the main shop downtown. This is just a satellite location. Besides, you’re not ready to meet the family yet, Robert.”

 

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