Page 29 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Change can be good.”

“Yeah,” he said, coughing into his fist.

He wanted to thank Jamie. He wanted to thank him for so many things. The books. The gift cards. The lawn mowing. The magazines and DVDs and cigarettes and, on one very interesting day, the bag of pot gummies. But where to begin?

“Hey, man, I wanted to thank you for—”

Jamie cut him off by throwing his arms around Hank’s much bigger body. “Shut the fuck up, Hank.”

Hank hugged Jamie tightly.

In a voice thick with unshed tears, Jamie said, “I didn’t know if we would see you again.”

Hank would be lying if he said the flicker of that thought had never crossed his mind. Only once or twice, in the middle of the night when the ghosts of the past were the loudest and most cruel, Hank had wondered to himself who might actually miss him if he were to suddenly disappear. Like Brigadoon into the mist, what would happen if he were to just… not be there one morning when everyone woke up?

But he’d battled those thoughts down and kept trudging. And now he was in therapy.

They broke apart, each wiping tears on their shirts.

“Thank you, Jamie,” Hank said, pounding him on the back three times. “I mean it.”

“Just being a friend,” Jamie replied, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

“I know. And I’m grateful,” Hank said. With a sly smile he added, “Although the gummies were an unexpected surprise.”

“They help my anxiety!” Jamie exclaimed. “I figured it was worth a shot to help yours!”

“Sure. Your anxiety,” Hank teased.

“If you don’t want them, I’ll be happy to take them off your hands,” Jamie said with a chuckle.

“Oh, they’re gone. Long gone.”

“You threw them out?”

“Didn’t say that.”

Jamie’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Do tell.”

“Let’s just say that they made for one very interesting day watchingAntiques Roadshowwhere I became convinced that my mom’s old teaspoon collection was worth millions.”

“Oh?” Jamie said, nearly choking on his repressed laughter.

“Yeah. And then I ordered and ate three pizzas in my underwear while watching infomercials for that rotisserie oven that cooks all the vegetables in the plastic bin on top.”

Jamie barked out a loud laugh, falling back against the hood of the truck. “Goddammit, Hank, you weren’t supposed to eat the whole bag at once!” Jamie said, wiping a different sort of tear from his eyes.

“Well, I know thatnow. You should have left instructions.”

“Forgive me for assuming that my cop best friend would know not to eat an entire bag of pot gummies in one go.”

“Ex-cop,” Hank murmured, and they both instantly sobered.

Jamie squinted at him. “Right. Ex-cop.”

They were quiet for a moment. Not making eye contact but not avoiding it either.

“I guess you’re looking for Mom?”