Which is a little sad, particularly because my father has been slow to move on from the divorce, even though he squandered her money and generally acted like a selfish dick-nose during the latter part of their marriage.
Anyway, after Grace drove away, he eventually entered the house and walked upstairs one painstakingly slow step at a time. Then, as far as I could tell, he just stood outside my room, sighing. He didn’t knock. He didn’t try the knob. It was hard to tell, actually, how close to the door he was.
He had the habit, like a sulking child, of shutting down completely when something was wrong. It would be funny if it wasn’t so infuriating. I felt the familiar anger this time, but it was quickly smothered beneath the sadness and shame I’d been nursing since I jumped in the lake. Eventually, after what seemed like a thousand hours, he stepped closer and cleared his throat.
“Um... Tessie?” he said.
He paused, waiting for a response. I provided none.
“So, I wish I could... um... understand what’s going on here. But, since I don’t have the faintest notion, and you aren’t really being... um... generous with the details, I feel like I’m just kind of powerless, you know?”
I knew he was dying for a sign I was there, but I couldn’t bring myself to give him one. I didn’t know what to say.
“Here’s the deal,” he said after another substantial pause. “Your mother is not coming back early from India.”
I thought I heard a sad laugh.
“She’s there with...him. And I guess they’re too busy bending their bodies into Lotus poses to be bothered with anything happening at home. Instead I’ve been given instructions. I’m supposed to drive you back to school tomorrow, and see that you finish the year. Your mother has made it clear that dropping out isn’t an option in this family.”
When I swung open the door, I nearly bashed my father in the face. As it turns out, he had been standing pretty close. He jumped back, and his expression looked somewhere between startled and angry.
“But you dropped out,” I said.
“We’re not talking about me,” he said.
“Also we’re not a family anymore,” I said.
I looked at his hands. He appeared to be holding a plate of food.
“What’s that?”
“I made you macaroni and cheese,” he said. “With two cheese packets. The way you like it. Or, you used to, at least. You know... um... when you were a kid.”
I stood looking at the plate for a moment, the pile of neon orange noodles. It looked both absurd and delicious,and for a moment I thought I might break down and let everything out.
Dad was always my confidant when I was a kid. Usually unemployed, he used to pick me up from school each day, searching me out in the crowd of tiny beings. On the long walks home, I’d narrate my entire day, and he’d nod as if every detail was fascinating.Really? You fed the hamster an entire grape?Then, if he was in a good mood, we’d stop to get Coke Slurpies from 7-Eleven and compare brain freezes.
But, we weren’t really pals anymore. Now he was the guy who stole from me and ruined the later portion of my childhood with his self-obsession. I just reached out and grabbed the plate from his hands.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
He stood there blinking at me for another few seconds, then he spoke again.
“Tess, I have an opportunity,” he said.
I looked around the hallway.
“What? Here?”
He shook his head.
“I got a phone call earlier. From out of state. I guess the guy hasn’t heard about what happened in Nantucket yet with the... you know... dog explosion—”
“What kind of opportunity?” I interrupted.
“Well,” he said. “The kind I specialize in.”
I took a bite of macaroni.
