chaptertwenty-five
When Jeremiah and Conrad walked up the beach with their boards under their arms, I had this crazy thought that I should try to warn them somehow. Whistle or something. But I didn’t know how to whistle, and it was too late anyway.
They put the boards under the house, and then they walked up the steps and saw us sitting there. Conrad’s whole body tightened up, and I saw Jeremiah mutter“shit”under his breath. Then Jeremiah said, “Hey, Dad.” Conrad brushed right past us and into the house.
Mr. Fisher followed him in, and Jeremiah and I looked at each other for a moment. He leaned close to me and said, “How about you pull the car around while I get our stuff, and then we make a run for it?”
I giggled, and then I clapped my hand over my mouth.I doubted Mr. Fisher would appreciate me giggling when all this serious stuff was going on. I stood up and pulled my towel closer around me, under my armpits. Then we went inside too.
Conrad and Mr. Fisher were in the kitchen. Conrad was opening up a beer, not even looking at his dad. “What the hell are you kids playing at here?” Mr. Fisher said. His voice sounded really loud and unnatural in the house. He was looking around the kitchen, the living room.
Jeremiah began, “Dad—”
Mr. Fisher looked right at Jeremiah and said, “Sandy Donatti called me this morning and told me what happened. You were supposed to get Conrad back to school, not stay and—and party and interfere with the sale.”
Jeremiah blinked. “Who’s Sandy Donatti?”
“She’s our real estate agent,” Conrad said.
I realized my mouth was open, and I snapped it shut. I wrapped my arms around myself tight, trying to turn invisible. Maybe it wasn’t too late for me and Jeremiah to make a run for it. Maybe that way he’d never find out that I’d known about the house too. Would it make a difference that I’d only known about it since this afternoon? I doubted it.
Jeremiah looked over at Conrad, and then back at his dad. “I didn’t know we had a real estate agent. You never told me you were selling the house.”
“I told you it was a possibility.”
“You never told me you were actually doing it.”
Conrad broke in, speaking only to Jeremiah. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not selling the house.” He drank his beer calmly, and we all waited to hear what he’d say next. “It’s not his to sell.”
“Yes, it is,” Mr. Fisher said, breathing heavily. “I’m not doing this for me. The money will be for you boys.”
“You think I care about the money?” Conrad finally looked at him, his eyes cold. His voice was toneless. “I’m not like you. I could give a shit about the money. I care about the house. Mom’s house.”
“Conrad—”
“You have no right to be here. You should leave.”
Mr. Fisher swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “No, I won’t leave.”
“TellSandynot to bother coming back.” Conrad said the word “Sandy” like it was an insult. Which I guess it was meant to be.
“I’m your father,” Mr. Fisher said hoarsely. “And your mother left it to me to decide. This is what she would have wanted.”
Conrad’s smooth, hard shell cracked, and his voice was shaking when he said, “Don’t talk about what she would have wanted.”
“She was my wife, goddamn it. I lost her too.”
That might have been true, but it was the exact wrong thing to say to Conrad at that moment. It set him off.He punched the wall closest to him, and I flinched. I was shocked he didn’t leave a hole.
He said, “You didn’t lose her. You left her. You don’t know the first thing about what she would have wanted. You were never there. You were a shitty dad and an even shittier husband. So don’t bother trying to do the right thing now. You just fuck it all up.”
Jeremiah said, “Con, shut up. Just shut up.”
Conrad swung around and shouted, “You’re still defending him? That’s exactly why we didn’t tell you!”
“We?” Jeremiah repeated. He looked at me then, and the stricken look on his face cut right through me.
I started to speak, to try to explain, but I only got as far as saying, “I just found out today, I swear,” when Mr. Fisher interrupted me.
