“You were not responsible for what happened!” Elizabeth says on a gasp.
“What the fuck,” Jack mutters, frowning.
“I’m learning that. I’m working on it. But I did feel responsible, and I felt guilty that people died and got hurt, and I felt guilty that I didn’t.”
Elizabeth’s eyes close and she slowly lowers and raises her chin. “Yes. I know that happens to people who survive something like that.”
“And I felt I was letting you down in the worst way possible.”
She’s holding herself together impressively. I release her hand to rub her back.
“You did not let us down in any way,” Elizabeth says. “Ever.”
“Jesus.” Jack seems reduced to curses.
“Even when I put on weight from eating too much sourdough bread?”
Elizabeth’s jaw unhinges. “What? Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “No. I’m so sorry, sweetie. That was a stupid comment. You’re beautiful.”
Well, that gets to Nikki and tears start flowing. She wipes them away and says, “Thank you. Thank you for telling me that.”
They talk more about her therapy and the things she and Eve talked about. The things she’s working on. Her parents talk about their perspectives. I’m sure they’ve pushed her at times and clearly they’ve been a bit oblivious to their daughter’s struggles. But also… Nikki has been hard on herself.
“You know,” Jack says slowly. “I don’t think it was us who taught you discipline.”
Nikki blinks at him.
“It was music.” He tilts his head. “It takes a lot of discipline to master an art, and a lot of time. It takes dedication and perseverance. You did that because it was important to you, not because we told you to. Youlovemusic.”
Nikki stares at her father, then presses her fingertips to her lips. “Yes,” she whispers. She glances at me and I give her a smile that I hope is supportive and reassuring. Her eyes glow back at me.
“Oh my gosh,” Elizabeth says, glancing at her watch. “Lunch is very late.”
“I’m sorry,” Nikki says.
Her mom gives her a gently chiding look. “That was a lot of important stuff. Luckily, I have everything mostly made ahead. Let’s go eat.”
The kitchen is massive and fully remodeled.
“This is where we started,” Jack says. “Liz needed a new kitchen.”
“I did.” She smiles at Jack. “And I love this one.”
“I can see why.” I look around the space. It’s not the same kind of rustic as the rest of the house, but it fits in, with hardwood floors, sage-green cabinets, and the same wood ceiling beams. We sit for lunch at a big farmhouse-style table.
“This is fantastic,” I tell Elizabeth after digging into my Cobb salad.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “It’s one of Nikki’s favorites.”
“It is. How could you not love something with bacon and avocado and blue cheese?” She spears a piece of chicken.
“Lots of protein.” I nod.
This segues into a discussion about nutrition and my diet, then turns to how much Gray used to eat when he was younger, and somehow moves on to our trip to the Finger Lakes and our encounter with a witch ghost. Nikki has her parents cracking up with the story.
By the time we leave, I’m pretty comfortable with them.
“I like your parents,” I say on the drive home.
