“Mom, this is Nelle,” he says. “Nelle, this is my mom, Teresa.”
“Lovely to meet you Nelle,” says his mom. “Welcome to the family.”
The house smells like chili when they enter. His mom says it’s winter food, but the fifty-degree cold feels like July to James after his first northern winter. First, he finds his dad, tugging Nelle along behind him. Despite their reason for coming back to Lincoln, he’s smiling, and when he looks back he sees Nelle grinning, too.
His dad is stirring a pot in the kitchen. James circles the butcher-block island and hugs him. He is caught off guard, chili spoon in one of his hands. Peter Finch is a tall, muscular man with blue eyes and dark hair. People remark on all the traits he gave James, but James spent his teenage years counting everything he didn’t get. Tree-trunk muscles, election-winning charisma, and a talent for stringed instruments.
“Uh-uh, watch out,” he says over James’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get chili down your back.”
James laughs as he pulls away. He gestures behind him, to the girl of his dreams. His heart aches every time he dares to look at her. It twists him up like a rag to think about what she has to do.
“Dad, this is Nelle. Nelle, this is my dad, Peter.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Finch.”
“Please, just Peter.”
They exchange the usual chatter, and James’s attention turns upstairs.
Desperate for the quiet comfort of his books, he excuses himself. His parents have discussed converting his bedroom into a home gym, but for now, his little library is still perfectly preserved. Old childhood chapter books. Waterlogged teenage obsessions. Hardcover editions of paperbacks he already owns. A museum of his life, told through his shelves.
Floorboards shift behind him.
He expects to see Nelle, but it’s his dad.
When was the last time his dad stepped foot in his bedroom? He ducks to avoid hitting his head on the sloped ceiling, then circles the haphazardly installed ceiling fan.
“So, that’s uh ... Nelle,” says his dad, sticking his hands in the pockets of his khakis.
“That’s Nelle,” James says. “What do you think of her?”
“She’s funny. Jessie told us a little. All good things.” He stares the floor, the bookshelves, anywhere but his son. “She’s pretty, too.”
“Yeah,” James says. “About everything I said the last time I was here—”
“It’s all in the past.”
“No, Dad, listen to me.” He takes in a breath to steady himself.Just be honest.“I love you, and I respect your lifestyle, but I want to be a little riskier and live in an expensive city and have a flaky job. I know you don’t understand that, and I know it sounds idiotic to you. Maybe it is, but when you were my age, you followed your dreams, and you never regretted it. Shouldn’t I get to follow mine, too?”
His dad blinks and opens his mouth. “I ... uh ... I agree, yeah. I just wanted to tell you that I hope you’re being safe up there. You know, it can be a dangerous placeifyou’re not careful, so ... watch out for your cousin and Nelle.”
James nods.
“And . . . uh . . . just make sure you’re being safe in . . . every way . . . you know . . .”
Despite being twenty-one, James’s cheeks go hot when the subject of sex comes up with his parents. “Yes, I am. Always. Thanks.”
His dad clears his throat. “Just making sure that you’re doing ... uh ... everything you need to do in that department.”
“I am. Promise.”
“All right.”
James rocks on his heels. “Where’s Midi?”
“Guess.”
“A friend’s house.”
