But in the rain-filled two days before the scheduled celebration, I sleep the sleep of the bone-tired exhausted. I spend lots of hours just talking to Vanessa, learning more about her and her health, discussing her treatment options and helping her strategize a financial plan now that she’s finally free from Lucas’s clutches, their prenup legally dissolved, after she threatened to go to the press about his abusive behavior and ruin his reputation, his businesses, and his life.

I even spend a rainy afternoon going through my damaged food truck. There are furrows and buckshot holes in the top and in the door, from when Marlene almost blasted my head off with that shotgun. We stare at it for a few minutes, while Vanessa is up front, wiping down an already clean counter.

Rain batters the roof and I shake my head. “Mar, just a foot or so lower, you’d have a hell of a cleaning job to take care of. My blood and brains all over the place.”

Marlene just grins. “Maybe blood, but not too much brains.” She traces the scarred metal with her fingers. “Shouldn’t take too long to repair this time, don’t you think?”

It comes to me.

“No,” I say. “We’re not going to repair it.”

“What?”

I touch the damaged metal as well. “No, we’re going to leave it. As a permanent reminder of what you and Vanessa went through—what all of us went through—and how we’ll never forget.”

Marlene nods. “Aren’t you full of all these philosophical surprises.”

Vanessa calls out, “Hey, who do you think’s been teaching him about philosophy?”

Marlene just shakes her head in amazement. “You two … get a room, okay? Or at least let me get out of here and leave you two be.”

The night before the memorial service Vanessa and I eat at the famed Dooky Chase’s Restaurant, and then go home and tumble into bed. Before falling asleep, she asks, “Do you plan on going to tomorrow’s service?”

“No,” I say, my head sinking into the pillow and my spirit sinking into sleep. “Too many people, too crowded, I’ll be just as happy watching it on TV.”

“But watching it on TV won’t be the same,” she gently protests, stroking my hair.

“I don’t care.”

She says something in reply but by then, I’m asleep.

I wake up and realize I’m alone.

The house is empty.

But I smell something delightful.

Fresh-brewed coffee.

I roll out of bed, yawning, check the time.

It’s just past 7 a.m., and in the kitchen, there’s a fresh pot of coffee.

And a handwritten note.

Hey, sleepyhead …

Since you want to slack off, Marlene and I are taking the truck to the Fair Grounds to join the morning celebration and sell some breakfast.

Watch things on TV if you want, but you’re welcome to join us.