Something You Can't Outfly

Belief, Skepticism, Life and Reputation

Scrapbooks were strewn about the dining room table where there might have been a bowl of Neopolitan ice cream, but only if Edward Mulroy was still in the process of eating it.

Sylvia Mulroy put her tennis rackets in the closet and walked into the dining room.

She let out an audible gasp when she realized her husband was crying.

Just red-rimmed eyes and a trace of moisture on his cheeks, but for Silent Eddie Mulroy that might as well have been banshee scream hysterics.

“Eddie” Sylvia said. It was his name, but it was a series of half-panicked questions in one word.

Eddie what’s wrong? Eddie what can I do for you? Eddie, how can I make it better?

“Aaron’s gone,” Eddie said. The effort of saying it out loud hamstrung him, and he fell into the dining room chair.

The adrenaline of beating Bea Foley in singles for the first time in Sylvia’s life was still pulsing through her and she blurted “Honey, he lived a good long life.”

If she could have run around a net and forehand slam those words back into her throat, she would pay money for the privilege.