“Uh, that’s not going to fix this,” my sister-in-law Jenny pipes up from across the room. Everyone turns to look at her. To be fair, I might be the most ignored member of the family, but I guess we also all forget sometimes that Jenny’s a doctor. “The ‘saliva on burns’ thing is sort of a misconception, because epidermal growth factor isn’t as relevant as the potential for bacteria, and it’s not as effective as just regular over-the-counter things. So I’d get some ibuprofen and a cold bowl of water.”
I shouldn’t be so devastated when Cal releases my finger and instead apologizes as he moves my hand back under the cold running water. But he doesn’t let go.
“This is why social media’s going to rot your brain,” Sarah lobs at Libby.
“Just because something’s unproven—”
“I heard butter helps,” Lyla pipes up unhelpfully.
“Your aunt actually knows what she’s doing,” Sarah points out.
“I didn’t say she didn’t.”
“Well, Cal certainly didn’t hesitate,” my dad chuckles.
“Maybe he saw the TikTok!”
“You don’t just suck on a burn because you saw it on TikTok. It’s like the ‘peeing on jellyfish stings’ thing all over again,” Jenny retorts.
My mom gasps. “That’s not real?!”
“Can’t blame him,” Jeremy adds. “If my wife died in an accident, I’d probably be quick to jump to my new girlfriend’s rescue in whatever way I could too.”
The squawking of the room silences, and everyone turns to look at Jeremy. The pounding of my heartbeat that’s been in my finger has gone straight to my head. I try to steel my expression, because as shocked as I am, I still know that whatever Jeremy’s saying is something I would know if I wasactuallyCal’s girlfriend. Butoh my god.
“Jeremy!?” Sarah says, smacking her husband.
“Sorry!” he yelps, rubbing his forearm like she actually might’ve gotten him pretty hard. “I mean, it’s not a secret. It was like, a major news story.”
“I know, but ... read the room.”
“I think it’s sweet!”
“Talking about someone’s deceased wife is not sweet,” my mom dryly notes.
“No, I meant, how he wanted to help,” Jeremy clarifies.
“Your wife died?” Ethan asks Cal quietly.
“It was a long time ago,” Jeremy says to his son, as though that’ll solve it.
“I, um ...” For the first time, I look over at Cal, who’s completely unreadable. I’m frozen with indecision over what to do. All my id wants to do is scream at everyone, pull Cal out of the room, and hug him until he smiles again. But the rational side of me knows that I have to let Cal decide for himself how to answer—besides, he’s apparently dealt with this for however long Jeremy’s definition of “a long time” is.
But instead of saying anything to any of the adults in the room, Cal kneels down to Ethan’s height, just as he did yesterday at the festival. “She did,” he says softly. “Four years ago. She had a skiing accident.”
“And it was a news story because you play football?”
“Yeah.”
“So it’s not like if you married Miriam she could die too?”
He chuckles, finally figuring out where the questions are coming from. He puts a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “No, nothing’s going to happen to Miriam, I promise.”
Ethan nods with all the confidence of a child getting a promise they can’t possibly know is bullshit on so many levels.
Cal stands up, his gaze now back on me, intent. “How’s your finger?”
“I think it, um ...” I pause. I know my entire family is watching me—something I would’ve begged for at any other time—but now all I want is to get Cal a moment away to himself. “I think it needs some air.” I raise my eyebrows.
