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Going to the salon at 9am on a Friday morning has been a habit Margaret Buckley has had since she was in her early twenties. Though the salon owner has changed twice over that time, she always enjoys the hour or so she gets to sit back and listen to the vivacious stories that come from the ladies her appointment always seems to line up with.
Theres Vivian, she's a little older than the rest of them, but always has a new mix of colours being added to the tips of her great locks. She loves to chatter on about her four grandchildren who all followed in the steps of her late husband into different areas of surgery. They had a large family dinner once a month and there had been some arguments last night about the eldest asking Vivian for the family ring to ask his girlfriend to marry him.
Jean and Marie, a lovely lesbian couple who only just moved to Pennsylvania four months ago to look after Marie’s cancerous mother, are hanging on to Vivian’s every word as she works her way through the tale, giving their two cents where they think appropriate.
Sally, who pipes in about how the grandson shouldn't be getting engaged to the girlfriend so soon into their relationship, is the closest in age to Margaret, but she only sees her in the salon and once a fortnight.
Margaret looks up to Tabatha, whose hands are folding thick rollers into the hair on top of Margaret’s head and sees her mouth drop open as the plot twist fall from Vivian’s mouth — the youngest grandchild who's had the same girlfriend since high school also asked after the ring a week earlier and he was announcing his engagement to the whole family that night.
“And then...” The suspense was palpable throughout the whole salon as Vivian was about to add another twist of her most exciting dinner party story for years.
Margaret's phone trills loud through the empty silence.
She scrambles to switch it silent, wanting to know what happened next, but the name glaring back at her has her still in her chair.
She stares, Evan, lighting up her screen. When was the last time she'd heard from him, why would he be calling now? Has he really kept the same phone number all these years?
Tabatha’s voice is knowing and contrite, it cuts through Margaret's over thinking, “isn't that your son? The firefighter, right?”
It's something she knows only from seeing his face plastered all over the news one night, her son, the firefighter, trapped beneath a ladder truck after it had been bombed on the streets of LA.
Margaret gives a slight nod before hitting the green button with her thumb, heart beating slightly faster as she raises the phone to her ear.
“Evan? I-is everything alright?”
Eyes meeting the mirror, Margaret realises the rest of the ladies have absconded Vivian's recount of the disastrous family dinner for listening in on Margaret's phone call. Though, if she were in any of their shoes, she'd be doing the same.
Margaret wasn't one to tell many stories of the things happening with her own family like the others, she takes on more of a listener's position when she comes to the salon. It's not because she wants to hide her life from them, but for the mere fact of, well, Margaret doesn't have anything to tell the ladies with the non-existent relationship her and her husband seemed to have with their children. There are simply no stories she has to offer up.
So, the fact that her son is calling her right now, while at the salon where these women are all hungrily listening in, she can’t blame them for being nosy considering she knows she’d be the same.
‘Oh, thank goodness someone answered, I knew asking Siri to ‘call Mom’ would do the trick! I’ll admit, I did ask Siri to call ‘wife’ first because of your grandson on the screen saver – who is adorable by the way, I bet you have trouble saying no to that face – but anyway it didn’t work and like, who doesn’t save their partners name as their actual name, and I mean who’s to say he even has a partner, and if that partner is a woman. I’m rambling, sorry, I’ve had way too much coffee today and then the adrenaline of the whole guy-getting-stuck-in-the-bathroom-while-having-a-heart-attack thing. Anyway, is your son one of the firefighters? I think his phone fell out of his pocket when they were here earlier, I would have called their station, but I don’t know which one and I’m wondering if maybe you can come pick it up for him? I would drop it to the station, once I figured out which one of course, but I’m working a double and- “
“What Café?”
---
4PM Friday afternoon and Margaret Buckley is walking through a terminal at LAX. She’s asked herself a thousand times ‘What the hell am I doing?’ but her curiosity was too strong to stay away.
Because of your grandson on the screensaver, who is adorable by the way!
She said it so casually. Grandson. Margaret was a grandmother, and she never even knew.
She hasn’t heard from her son since the night he left with nothing but a backpack and the keys to Maddie’s Jeep. She’s always wondered what kind of life he might have built for himself. Such a rambunctious child, always getting hurt, getting into trouble. She knows how hard she’d made his life after- well, after. She’s had many years to reflect on that fact. But she’ll admit that she had never once pictured Evan being a father.
It took a shorter amount of time to convince Phillip than she thought it would to leave, he’d known something was up the moment he’d seen her arriving home early from the salon, but he understood. He wanted to know just as much as she did, but there was only one available seat on the plane, so he stayed behind.
Pulling her small carry-on bag behind her to the car rentals, Margaret sends a text message off to Dani, the café manager who’d called her on Evan’s phone, letting her know she’d be there soon.
It takes just forty minutes to get from the airport to the café, and as she steps through the door Dani knows who she is immediately.
“Margaret! Wow, your Evan looks just like you! Thank you so much for picking this up, it died pretty soon after we hung up, but I’ve had it charging in the backroom all afternoon!” Dani laughs lightly as she passes the phone over, depositing it into Magaret’s hand.
A weird sensation rushes over her body, a person’s phone is said to hold a person’s whole life inside of them. She wonders suddenly what kind of life is held inside this one, inside Evan’s.
She thanks Dani and leaves the café shortly after that, climbing back into the rental car. With the door shut and the noise of the world left outside of the small car, Margaret holds the phone, Evan’s phone, in her hands. The case doesn’t give much away, it’s bulky, something hard to break. There’s a blue star and a fire fighter helmet sticker on the back that look a bit aged. She takes a deep breath before holding down the button on the side to turn it back on.
It takes a moment for the apple graphic to disappear, but once it does the screen lights up with an image of a smiling young boy in bright red glasses. Margaret’s breath is caught in her throat and heat is quickly rising behind her eyes.
Before any tears can make their escape Evan’s phone rings. The screen changing from the young boy, Margaret’s grandson her mind supplies, to an image of a man sat on a mountain side, he’s smiling at the camera with the glow of a sunset behind him. ‘Eddie – ICE’ reads at the top of the screen, a red heart sat next to the man’s name.
Margaret answers with a shaky breath.
“Hello.”
‘Hey, this is firefighter Diaz, is this one of the café workers?’
“Um no, actually, I don’t work at the café. I just picked the phone up.” Maragret isn’t exactly lying, but she’s also not outwardly admitting time wise when she picked the phone up.
‘I knew that’s where he’d dropped it. I’m guessing it died’ the huff that comes through the receiver is obviously amused. ‘That’s great though, thank you so much for picking it up. Buck was kinda losing his mind at possibly losing some photos of our kid’s birthday party that he hasn’t backed up yet.’ He chuckles, ‘Our shift doesn’t end for another two hours, but my husband has an after-hours appointment we can’t miss, so I’m wondering if you could hold onto it until the morning?’
Buck. Our kid. Husband.
Margaret doesn’t believe her ears. “I, um-“
It takes a moment for her to register what this man, Eddie, her son in-law has said, but she catches herself off guard by whispering out an “Okay.”
It’s enough for Eddie to give a relieved thanks, he leaves her his number and thanks her for charging the phone. Before she knows what’s happening, the phone call ends, and Margaret is looking up a hotel to call and book a room for the night.
---
Through the night and into the early morning Margaret barely sleeps, the conversation with Eddie playing through her mind on repeat. She lifts Evan’s phone again, letting the screen light up with the picture of her grandson. She still doesn’t know his name, his hair is the same shaggy blonde she remembers Evan’s being around that young age, she feels that familiar heat building behind her eyes again – honestly, Margaret doesn’t know how many more tears she can let loose looking at a child she’s never met.
The phone slips and she quickly catches it, but her hand presses down on the screen in the process. It changes.
Margaret sucks in a breath, she has no idea how the lock screen has a different image displayed now, but she’s greeted with who she knows is Eddie from the call yesterday, he has the boy asleep on his lap. They seem to be outside at some party if the half-eaten cake on the table is any indication. Maybe this is one of the photos Eddie mentioned Evan not wanting to lose from their son’s birthday party.
Curious, Margaret taps the screen again hoping it’s how the first image changed. It works, and now she is looking at a much younger version of the boy. He’s sat in a fire truck donned in a fireman’s jacket that swarms his small body, he also has a much too large helmet tilted over his head with ‘118 captain’ adorned on the front. The boy’s smile is infectious, he looks like he’s having the time of his life.
She taps again and this time her son is in the picture. She doesn’t know how long she stays looking at this one, having to click the screen back on a few times after it times out. It’s different, seeing this version of him. The last time she’d seen his face was through a badly zoomed in image on the news, the pain he was in evident no matter how grainy or shaky the video was. Here though, Evan looks so… content. Happy. Safe. Like he belongs in the arms surrounding him.
The image displayed is one of Evan and Eddie, it’s just them in what seems to be their bedroom stood before a full-length mirror in casual clothes. Evan is standing straight on, holding the phone up in front of them with both hands, a soft smile resting on his lips. Eddie’s arms are wrapped low around Evan’s waist from where he’s stood facing her son beside him, head tilted up to reach his lips to Evan’s rosy cheek.
She taps the screen again as her first tear for the past few hours rolls over the bridge of her nose and drips to the pillow, she’s laying on below.
Tap, tap, tap. Photo after photo of a life she’s never known existed, never been a part of due to her own faults, roll through once, twice – she keeps going. Margaret sees photos from their wedding, photos of the boy with his crutches and her sons baby blues, photos of zoo trips and camping weekends and ice-cream filled afternoons. She sees a handful of Maddie which brings on a whole new bout of tears. There are funny faces, sleeping faces, faces she doesn’t know. They all paint a larger picture of a life well lived, of a life filled with laughter and so much love.
She doesn’t know how to feel, emotions running through her over things she’s missed, things she would never expect to be something her children would do or see. Of the people they’ve become without her and her husband standing by their sides to witness. She calls Phillip in tears.
---
The digital clock in the rental car dash reads 10:12AM as Margaret rolls to a stop across the street from the address Eddie had texted her an hour ago. She sits, hesitant, in the driver’s seat with the engine still running. Looking over the house, she makes note that it looks well lived in, there are shoes of various sizes near the front door, a wire fire truck ornament attached to the fence under the bright red house number, a coffee mug and half-finished glass of what looks to be orange juice left out on the small table, the chairs pulled out like it’s been used and is not just there for decoration like her own front table back home.
She takes a breath and goes to open her door, but then she sees him. Evan. He’s right there, by the garden bed on the side of the house with the boy who’s donned in a big straw hat sat in a chair matching those on the front porch by his side.
They’re gardening she realises as she drops her hand from the door handle. There are a handful of black pots with sapling plants spread around their feet, Evan has his arms in the soil bag, breaking it up with his hands before bringing them up towards the child. His son leans away as one of Evan’s dirtied hands comes closer and taps him on the nose – the boy laughs with his entire body; she can hear it through the glass of her window and goosebumps raise over her arms. She can’t help smiling as the boy tries reaching for the bag leant against the leg of the chair he’s sat in, obviously going for a counterattack.
She knows it’s not right, her being here. Having flown across the country to pick up her son’s phone, then going through his photos. Sitting here in a rental car across the street from his house watching as he plays around with his son. But with every new thing she learns, she can’t turn away.
Maragret startles at a tap on the passenger window, hand flying to her chest. Eddie leans down as she lowers it, resting his arms on the open window. He’s red faced and covered in a glean of sweat, a strand of hair falling out of place as he nods at her with a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just finishing my run and recognised your plate from the text you sent.”
Margaret musters up a small smile of her own, “Eddie.”
“That’s me.” He grins back at her; it’s disarming and oddly she finds the tension in her shoulders relax a little as he continues. “Thank you for dropping Buck’s phone here by the way, Chris wasn’t having the best morning.”
A clarifying bell sounds off in Margaret’s mind as she hears the name, “Chris?” The name slips from her lips too fast, but she needed to say it, to know what it felt like to have her grandsons name on her own tongue.
Eddie nudges his head in the direction Evan and Chris are, “Yeah, our son, Christopher. He has CP, sometimes he just sleeps wrong, woke up in a bit of pain this morning.”
They both watch Evan and Christopher for a moment.
“He seems in good spirits now.” Margaret finds herself saying and Eddie hums in agreement.
“It’s the Buck effect, if anyone can get the kid to smile on a bad day it’s him.”
Margaret looks over Eddie, his eyes haven’t left his family across the street, but the fondness in them, she can see the love emanating from his every pore. She clears her throat and lifts the phone from the centre console she had it sitting in.
“Well, I better give you this.”
“He really would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his shoulders you know.”
She does know, and it’s hard not to say so. Evan used to lose his things all the time, for Margaret, she remembers how it frustrated her to no end, but the adoration in Eddie’s words over her son’s forgetful trait is palpable.
“He’s lucky to have you.” She blurts out catching Eddie off guard if the blush rising across his cheeks is anything to go off.
“I um, the photos on his screensaver. I couldn’t help myself once I accidentally touched the screen and the photo changed. I can tell you’ve lived a great life together already, it’s obvious how much you care for each other. It seems a rare thing these days, don’t let go of that.”
Eddie takes a moment to answer, but when he does, he sounds much more serious than the light-heartedness from moments ago.
“I’m not planning on it ma’am. But uh, thank you. Buck and I, we’ve been through a lot together to make it to this point. He’s saved my life, and my son’s and I’d live through all those hard days again if in the end it gives me him. I love him, it’s impossible not to.”
Margaret nods, she already knew Eddie loved her son, but to hear him say it outright with no hesitation and with so much devotion, it sets her at ease.
“Dad!” Christopher’s voice carries across the street through a shriek of laughter, “Help me! Buck’s going to spray us with the hose!”
Eddie gives Margaret one last grin, “Duty calls. Thank you again for this.” He raises the phone in her direction before taking off across the street.
Sitting for a while longer, Margaret watches as Eddie joins the pair by the garden. Christopher is standing now, leaning against Evan where they both have a hold of the hose which is pointed up towards the sky as droplets fall over them. Christopher is in a fit of giggles at the action and Eddie quickly raises his hand showing off Evan’s phone as a shield to not be hosed down himself.
Evan leans down to whisper in the boy’s ear and the two give each other a matching smirk before Evan leaves Christopher leaning against the garden bed with the hose and dramatically snatches his phone from Eddies hand before getting out of the way so their son can spray Eddie with the water. Evan still catches a stray spray as Christopher loses control over his limbs with his laughs in the process. But all in all, their plan worked, and Eddie is soaked. Evan gives his kid a high five as he makes his way back over so Christopher can lean against him instead of the raised garden bed again.
Wiping another stray tear from her cheek, Margaret let’s out a laugh at the silly antics as she watches the three of them. She shifts the car into drive and makes her way back to LAX.
Thoughts run wild through her mind as she drives. What would have happened if she’d gotten out of the car, or if Evan had recognised her through the car window. She’s glad though, that she decided to stay out of his sight – the moment she’d laid eyes on him, she knew seeing her would disturb the peace he’d built for himself.
She wasn’t sure of what she would find when she first left the salon and set off on this short journey, but she is happy that she did. She’s content in knowing that Evan has Eddie and Christopher by his side. That Maddie and the others she’d seen through the photos on his phone are around too. There are so many regrets that Margaret has made with Evan – with all of her children – throughout her life, but after talking to Eddie she can’t say she isn’t grateful that they played a part in directing her son to the family he has now. To the joy and love he’s surrounded with.
---
9AM the next Friday, Margaret walks into the salon which is already filled with laughter. Tabitha throws the hairdressing cape around her clothes and clips it around the back of Margaret’s neck.
“So,” Tabitha’s voice has Margaret’s eyes meeting hers in the mirror, “How’s Evan?”
Margaret smiles, and for the first time in years, she has something to share about her children.