Page 30 of The Facilitator, Part 2

I scanned a menu I picked up from the Formica tabletop. I wanted to laugh at the menu. Every single nationality was catered for from traditional burgers for the locals to Thai noodles.

“What an eclectic menu,” I said, scanning with no idea what to choose. I placed it back on the table. “I think you can choose for me, Mack, since you eat here often.”

“Wise young lady you got there, Son,” he said, without looking up at Mackenzie.

Food was ordered, a lucky dip by the sounds of it.

A jug of water and four bottles of beer were placed on the table and we clinked glasses before sipping.

The beer wasn’t cold or strong enough for me to enjoy it fully, but it made a nice change from fancy restaurants and posh wines.

It took me back, pre-Mackenzie, when a cheap bottle of plonk from the supermarket got me through a lonely evening.

I listened to Mack tell us what he’d been up to the past few months.

How the seasons changing affected his breathing, and the minute Mackenzie showed any concern, it was waved off.

I imagined Mack to be a frustrating man.

He told Mackenzie of his ills yet then denied his concern.

I decided it was time to change the subject.

“Tell me about this town, Mack?”

He spent the next twenty minutes giving me the history of the place, a description of the significant buildings, instructions to Mackenzie to be sure he took me to see them for real.

Dishes were placed on the table, and I waited until what I could only describe as a chilli was pushed towards me.

I stared at it, not sure what to make of the pungent smell.

It seemed to be a mix of lemon grass and garlic.

I picked up a fork, and with everyone watching me, I spooned the smallest amount into my mouth.

I chewed, my eyes watered, and I reached for my glass of water.

I wanted to swallow, I tried so hard to but my body was on lockdown.

No fucking way was that level of heat about to hit my stomach, and I was pleased.

I was more so when Mackenzie handed me a napkin.

“Spit it out,” he said. I gladly did.

“What on earth is that?” I said, and then felt terribly rude.

Thankfully Mack laughed. He reached over and grabbed my dish.

He spooned a huge mouthful between his lips and both Sandra and I semi-rose from our seats at the redness that coated his cheeks, the stream of tears as he swallowed, and the cough that, eventually, Mackenzie responded to.

He handed his father his glass of water while patting him on the back.

“Too hot?” I heard. Ed stood at the end of the table. Mack was incapable of speech.

“Yes, I’d say so. Interesting, but a little too spicy for me. I’m sorry,” I said.

“An experiment. How about a juicy burger?” he said. I gave him a thumbs up.

A short while later, I was tucking into the largest, dirtiest burger I’d ever seen. Juice dripped from my lips as my taste buds exploded with the beef that melted in my mouth, a BBQ sauce, and salad.

“This…this is…” I said, trying to wipe my mouth with a napkin I’d recently spat into.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Mackenzie said, licking his fingers from eating his own burger.

“Amazing,” I managed, between bites.

Sandra chatted, asking Mackenzie about his businesses, Gabriella and Alex’s wedding that had caused uproar in the town, although she said they were all looking forward to the consolation party .

More beers were placed on the table, and I asked for a Diet Coke.

I needed something non-alcoholic, not that I thought the beer had much, to wash down the grease.

I licked my lips and caught Mackenzie smirk at me.

As we sat through dessert, I realised; they never actually spoke much.

Mack talked to me, Sandra to Mackenzie, but it seemed father and son didn’t have a great deal to say to each other.

It saddened me, but it wasn’t my business.

Soon, however, it was time to go, and I got a sense that both Mack and Mackenzie were unsure what to do.

Both wanted the other to leave, both wanted the other to stay a little longer.

It was awkward, for sure. We left the diner and walked back the way we’d come.

“How about we plan another visit before we head to Boston?” I said, hoping not to upset Mackenzie.

“That would be nice. Now, you kids, go and do some sightseeing,” Mack said, when we arrived back at the condo.

Mackenzie was quiet for a little while as we drove back to his house. He pulled onto the drive and sat before sighing.

“Beach?” I said, knowing it to be the one place that comforted him the most.

He nodded. “How about I grab us a blanket, some wine maybe?” I said. He turned to me.

“I don’t know if I could love you even more than I do, but after today…Well, I’m in awe of you, Lauren.”

I was completely taken aback by his statement. In that moment, though, I didn’t think I was going to get an explanation. He opened his door and walked around the car to mine. While he looked over my shoulder, he helped me from my seat. He gave me his door key.

“There is a blanket over the back of the couch,” he said.

He leaned down to untie his shoelaces and roll off his socks.

I took those from him, and while he walked to the beach, I headed into the house.

I grabbed a bottle of wine, two glasses, and the blanket.

I kicked off my flip-flops and left them by the back door.

I hesitated on the second step down from the veranda.

Mackenzie sat on the sand, his knees bent and his forehead resting on them.

Although I couldn’t see his face, it was a position I seemed to associate with sadness.

I hurried to him. My man was hurting, I was sure, and I wanted to take that from him.

“How do you feel?” I asked, as I sat beside him.

“He’s dying. Sandra told me. Cancer, and he doesn’t have long. He hasn’t said a word. He’s had it for over a year, apparently.”

Mackenzie looked out to sea. I poured him a glass of wine; he took it without looking at me.

“Who does that?” he whispered.

“A man who doesn’t want to worry his son, perhaps. A proud man who knows he isn’t connecting as well as he should with his only child, and maybe he just doesn’t know how to correct that. But you do.”

He sipped from his glass before he turned to me. A lone tear tracked down the side of his face. I caught it on my thumb.

“Your tears are mine, Mackenzie. I’ll share your hurt so it isn’t so bad. I can’t take it away. I wish I could. But I’m right beside you, no matter if you want to scream and shout, or say no more.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. “Like I said, I’m in awe of you.”

The following day, Mackenzie did what his father asked.

We drove around the town and he pointed out the sights before we headed to Mrs. Collingsworth’s for a lavish and busy dinner.

An intimate dinner, to her, was twenty guests, most of whom Mackenzie knew, and all of whom were interested in me.

It was a little overwhelming and I felt totally on show.

However, it was an enjoyable evening. Gabriella kept squeezing my hand and whispering what naughty activities each guest had been up to, and not always with the partner they’d brought to the dinner party.

After dinner we were all escorted to the drawing room.

I assumed that was for me. I wasn’t aware the American’s used the rather archaic term.

The women seemed to congregate at one end of the room and the men, the other.

Mackenzie, however, had held onto my hand and I was stuck in the rather uncomfortable position of being in the middle of the room.

“Did you know Frank is dying?” I overheard. An elderly gentleman had handed Mackenzie a glass of whiskey.

“No, I hadn’t heard.” His response was rather curt and should have been a warning he wasn’t interested. However, the gentleman wasn’t put off.

“Yes, rather sad, isn’t it? Pancreatic, I believe. Patti saw him, said he looked awful and he doesn’t have that long. Probably a little too much of this,” he said, raising his glass. “When did you last see him?”

I knew the answer was going to be sarcastic simply by the tight squeeze to my hand.

“Oh, I don’t know, Father David. I think it was when I divorced his daughter for fucking her cousin and getting pregnant by him. I do believe her daddy was very supportive of her. Let’s hope she remembers that and looks after the prick in his dying days.”

I was sure the majority of people in the room heard the click of a jaw as it unhinged in shock at Mackenzie’s words. I looked at Mackenzie; he looked at me. He gave me a slight shrug of his shoulders, and I smiled. What else was there to do?

“David, I’m pretty sure you are aware of how ill-treated Mackenzie was by that family. Perhaps you’ve had a little too much of this yourself,” Mrs. Collingsworth said, raising her glass and rescuing her dinner party from the building tension.

“Bless his heart,” she said, as she turned away and gave Mackenzie a wink.

I wasn’t sure whether bless his heart was a polite or sarcastic turn of phrase, I opted for the latter when I saw Father David splutter into his wine glass.

Mrs. Collingsworth had turned into Momma Bear for the second time where Mackenzie was concerned.

Even though he was forty years old, she was as protective of him then as I imagined she had been when he’d needed her as a child.

I smiled to her retreating back, loving her even more.

“If you’ll excuse us, I think Vivienne has said all I would have added to this conversation,” Mackenzie said.