Finn had gone on that day in the grocery store, saying he was fine with the loss of his parents, past it, but this version of him tempered how dauntless he usually acted, younger with the rosy glow in his cheeks, and far more honest.
Now Teddy understood why that girl’s car accident had made him sound so stilted.
“He held on for six years but wasn’t ever the same. Head trauma, blind, in a wheelchair. Sometimes he forgot things too. You could have an afternoon with him, talk, be there for him, but it was harder than he’d admit.
“When he died, Rose’s dad told me it was a dosage error.” Finn grimaced at the words. “Said Dad got the wrong amount of medication that day. But it was thesame day, the day of the accident, the anniversary, like today. I know it wasn’t a mistake.” He scrubbed across his eyes with the back of his hand. “Fuck.It’s been over a decade, and I’m still a fucking mess.”
Teddy was close enough to reach for Finn, but a hand on his shoulder seemed too minimal. “Here I was concerned you were perfect. You never let on to any of this.”
“I can’t.” Finn turned to him with rawness Teddy was certain he wouldn’t allow if he was sober. “Ican’t. I have too many people counting on me.”
“You don’t have to put on a smile for me,” Teddy said.
“Yes, I do. It’s my job.” Finn’s pout, exaggerated and ridiculous though it may be, made Teddy smile.
“Not here.”
With the light from Teddy’s house spotlighting Finn and the dark water behind him, his eyes looked especially teal, maybe because they were damp and hazy from alcohol, but still, they drew Teddy in.
Nora tackled Finn with a flourish of sand, knocking him over and licking his face. Finn giggled as he accepted the haphazard affection.
Noticing the commotion, Smudge hopped from the patio onto the chair and came up beside Teddy with a buck of his head into Teddy’s arm. He petted Smudge in one long stroke.
“I get it now! You’re the cat, and I’m the dog!” Finn exclaimed, words slurring worse than earlier, like everything he’d drunk hadn’t quite caught up to him yet. He nuzzled his forehead against Nora’s, and when he released her, she bounded back to the chair, jumping at Smudge, who bopped her on the nose in fear of being toppled onto the beach.
Finn giggled harder, then rolled onto his front to push up on hands and knees and crawl through the sand toward Teddy. He placed his hands on Teddy’s thighs, saying playfully, “Here kitty, kitty.”
Teddy grabbed Finn’s wrists before he could part his knees like he seemed to want, much as he would have welcomed it under soberer circumstances. “I wondered why I didn’t remember your parents, but I’ve only had this place for a few years. Guess you weren’t using it after they passed.”
“No,” Finn said, slumping back on his ankles. “Until I moved here, I hadn’t been to that house since I was a kid. It was paid off, so it just sat empty.”
“What were their names?” Teddy asked.
“Abigail and Phineas.”
“You’re PhineasJunior?”
“That’s why I’m Finn! I can’t be Phineas.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Another thing we have in common.”
“You’re a junior too?”
“Why do you think I never go by Edmund? I’m not particularly fond of my father.”
“You’re not? Was he also an asshole?” Finn whispered with a grin, but Teddy couldn’t echo him.
“A far worse one.”
“Oh.”
“He never hit us, but emotional blows can be just as damaging.”
“I know,” Finn said quietly.
Teddy wanted so badly to touch him then, but he was afraid to disrupt the uneven ground they wobbled on. “Is your father why you chose physical therapy?”
“Look at you, all interi… no. Intuition? Um…. Intuitive! Ha!”
