I nodded, unable to meet my father’s gaze. “I’m okay.”
Caitlin snorted under her breath, but she had the grace to do it quietly.
Dad ignored her. “Well, I, for one, would like a little more assurance around that. You’ve acted different ever since Brett left you. I thought it was bad, but then you seemed better for a day or two. You came back into the bakery to help your mom and Cynthia. You seemed happier. I don’t think the food you made has ever been better, actually.”
I knew he wanted me to jump in, to start to explain, but I just couldn’t.
He paused, long enough for the silence to become deafening. “But then you up and disappeared. We had no idea where you were or when you’d come back.” His tone started to change, and I looked up. His face reddened, and I could see him gripping the fork in his hand hard enough that it began to bend. “We kept going by your house. We kept searching. Do you have any idea how terrified your mother and sisters were? How terrified I was?”
“Mamma?” Saul laid his crayons down and stared at Dad. “What’s the matter with Grandpa?”
Dad took a breath, looked over at Saul, and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Saul. I’m just getting… excited.” He glanced at Christina, then back to Saul. “How about you go play with Peter in the playroom?”
Christina reached out to take his hand, but Saul pulled it away. “No! I don’t wanna go! I wanna stay here with Auntie Caitlin!”
“I know, sweetie, but—”
Caitlin cut her off. “Actually, I think it might be a good idea if I weren’t here. Finn can talk to me later.” She glared at me. “If he dares.” She looked back down to Saul. “How about I go with you, hun? We can play that new video game about pirates.”
Saul’s eyes got huge. “We can?”
Caitlin nodded. “You bet. Come on.”
Saul popped out of the booth, his hand yanking Caitlin as she trailed behind him.
Dad waited for them to round the corner before he started again. “We didn’t know if you were safe, if you were somewhere hurt. We couldn’t even call the police.”
Call the police? “Why would you call the police?”
He flushed even redder. “Why would I call the police? Because my son was missing, that’s why! But I couldn’t because I was afraid I’d get him arrested!”
“Dad, what would I get arrested for?”
“You’re not acting like yourself. You’ve never been like this. Everything I can find about such behavior says that drugs are probably to blame! How would that—”
“Hold on, Wendell,” Mom interrupted and looked at Cynthia and Christina. “Will one of you set the blur, and I’ll do the muting?”
Cynthia nodded and flicked her hand in the same arc Christina had used earlier. Mom cast under her breath, looking up when she was finished. “Honestly, Wendell, what good would it have done to not call the cops when we needed them, but then announce Finn’s drug problem here?”
He let out his breath slowly, the redness of his face lessening, if not disappearing entirely. “You’re right, Paulette. Sorry.”
I spoke before he could start up again. “Who said I was on drugs, anyway?”
Oh, how dare they ask if you were on drugs? The nerve of them! Accusing their poor, perfect little Goody Two-shoes of turning to drugs just because he got dumped. How could they assume you’d be so pathetic?
I grimaced. Perfect. The damned voice. That’s all I needed.
Cynthia’s soft voice pushed his out of my mind. “It’s the only thing we could think of that would explain how you’ve been acting. I’ve never seen you like this, Finn.”
“Well, not theonlything.” Christina shrugged when Cynthia gave her a be-quiet stare.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” As soon as I asked, I wished I could pull the words back.
Christina shrugged, but didn’t meet my eyes. “Well, Caitlin explained to us what a bathhouse is. That’s the other reason Dad didn’t call. She was sure you were all right and you’d come back when you had… when you were done. We didn’t want to send cops there and have them pull you out.”
“Abathhouse!” I couldn’t believe I was even saying the words to my family. “Caitlin told you about a bathhouse?” I’d forgotten she’d told me before that they’d been wondering about that possibility.
Again, the audacity of your family is pervasive. Imagining you at a bathhouse? The nerve!
