JOEL
I been sober for twelve years—stop bringing that shit up.
DORINDA
What’s the point of being sober if you’re sober and useless?
DORINDA walks upstairs, passing CAT on the way…
DORINDA
(To Cat)
Don’t give me that look.
CAT
What?
DORINDA shakes her head and keeps walking up the steps. CAT finds her father slumped against the coat closet. She tries to hug him, but he turns away. Imagine a forgotten napkin crumpled in someone’s pocket. This is JOEL’s face before he hides it.
FADE OUT.
Chapter 33
On a damp Saturday afternoon, Dorinda Donovan became Dorinda St. Clair. She’d been dating Joel for a year when he took her to an upscale steakhouse, treated her to a bottle of Shiraz, and dropped to his knee. Of course she said yes. What else could a woman say?
The church was tiny, run-down in its own charmed way. The guest list was even tinier, the slightest cough drawing every eye in the chapel. But Dorinda and Joel were wrapped up in the future rolling out before them, their joyous specters trotting down it.
The kiss, when Joel was allowed it, wouldn’t have been appropriate for church on any other occasion, but today was a special day. One that would never come again. His father hadn’t been so discerning: four marriages and four divorces later, he overdosed in his car. Joel always told people it wasn’t the drugs but the heartbreak that did it. The drugs only followed after all.
So, before Pastor Greene, Joel not only vowed to be with Dorinda forever but vowed to outrun the sadness that tripped up his father. He’d get married and stay married. He’d be happy.
The reception was in the basement. White tablecloths smoothed over round folding tables, roses bunched at the centers. The church had over-ordered, so there was enough food to feed three times the number of guests. Lobster mac and cheese, crab cakes, salmon croquettes. Dorinda and Joel always said they were joined together by two things: their common sense and their love of seafood.
Their first dance was to “A House Is Not a Home.” Dorinda, drunk-silly on wine, twirled away in her cream dress.
Just as the helpers were cleaning up, a tropical storm blew throughthe city. The lights flickered out in the basement, the music cut off mid-song. Most of the guests had gone home by then, taking a plate of food with them, but the rest would spoil.
Dorinda and Joel snuck up to the balcony, watching the rain strike the window. Dorinda let her head fall on Joel’s broad shoulder. They looked like two brown dolls on top of a cake. He sang her favorite songs. Thanks to years in the church choir as a boy, his voice wasn’t half-bad. He never talked about his childhood, so she assumed it wasn’t good. She held this small glimpse of a young Joel in a robe on Sundays close to her chest. That night, they curled up together, making out like teenagers in the pews until the storm passed, as storms do.
Chapter 34
My mom stood in my doorway. Without waiting for me to invite her in, she sat on my bed. “I’ve been saying this for years: ‘You can’t quit your job and not tell me.’ How many times do I have to say the same thing? And what am I meant to do? Quit my job because this man is in office and then we’re both out of work? I’m tired of being the bad guy.”
“No one thinks you’re the bad guy.”
She exhaled. “That’s not true.”
“He could be doing more to help you, but it’s like, you don’t say anything then you blow up.”
She snapped her head around, forehead crinkled. “I’ve been doing this for twenty-something years. I know how to deal with him.” She wore her misery like a badge of honor. I never understood it.
“You know they’re talking about firing federal workers, like, a lot of them.”
“Well, let him fire me. I’m not gonna give up free retirement money out of fear. We’re talking thousands of dollars for the rest of my life. That’s what I’d be giving up. We can’t afford it.” With a curt hand, she swept some crumbs from my bedspread and rose to flick them into the trash. “He’s always in front of that damn TV.” We were talking about my dad again.
“I think he’s depressed.”
