“Not if he has a girlfriend. Not unless he’s a scummy boyfriend.”
“I don’t, and I’m not. So hold on.”
ADAM
On Saturday morning, Dad was already up when I wandered into the kitchen.
“Morning. Coffee?”
“Yeah, hey.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and held it out for him to pour.
“I was thinking we could go to the rink today and play a little ice hockey.”
“I’m hanging out with Jolene.” I turned to take my coffee back to my room, but Dad stopped me.
“Why don’t you come with Jeremy and me? You love playing.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Adam.” Just my name. I turned to him. “I thought we were turning a corner after last month. Are you ever gonna let up on me? I mean, ever?”
“What do you want from me, Dad?”
“For starters, I want you to come play hockey with your brother and me.” He slammed his own mug down on the counter, and coffee splashed over the edge. “I never see you. I get you for a few days a month, and you spend them in your room or with the girl next door.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I’m trying here. I need you to try, too.”
“Yeah, you tried real hard.” I held my arms out and gestured around the room. “Look how hard you’re trying.”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“No, you’re not. Your best is all of us home together. Mom not alone. Jeremy and me not living out of suitcases. This is pathetic. You’re not trying, so why should I?”
“Adam.” He let his head drop forward. “You don’t—”
“No, forget it. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you say is going to matter.”
“And that’s you trying?”
“No. That’s me not giving a—”
Dad’s head snapped up when I started that particular phrase, and the way his eyes widened and then narrowed took some of my bluster.
I finished with “Crap.”
But he knew what I’d been going to say, what one look from him had quelled. I wasn’t nearly as indifferent to him as I claimed.
He took his victory—and his half-spilled mug of coffee—and went into his room. I had no time to reflect on any of that before I saw Jeremy sit up on the couch.
“What are you going to do when he really stops trying?”
I sipped my coffee.
“Yeah, you’re so cool. I keep forgetting.” He threw off his blanket, and his back cracked when he stood up from the couch.
“Sleep well?” It was a rhetorical question. The couch was more of a love seat.
