“Hi,” I said. “I, um... I’m really sorry to bother you.”
“That’s okay. Are—Are you all right?”
I laughed, but barely. “Are you busy? Could you maybe meet me at home?”
“Like, Long Island home?”
“Yeah. Long Island home.”
79
Tyler
I packed up my things.
I returned a few books to Meredith’s library.
I stripped the bed.
In the sheets, I found glitter. I found long strands of auburn hair. I let out a sound, then folded the linens onto a pouf and closed the cottage door.
80
Katie
They’d painted the door to my childhood home red. That was all I could think about, really, as I stood there on my stoop, my hand hovering over the buzzer. Ingrid, still in her scrubs, nodded.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s a small town.”
I swallowed, then pressed my finger to the doorbell. A woman—forty, maybe?—answered the door in a pair of leggings, a sleeping baby in her arms. She cocked her head.
“Hi,” I said. “Um... hi.”
She cocked her head a little more.
Ingrid stepped in front of me. “This is Katie Caruso. She grew up in this house. I think it’s been sold a couple times since then. She—”
“I wanted,” I said, “to maybe just look around? I never really got to say goodbye.”
The mom put her hand on her heart. Ingrid was right. It was a small town.
“Come on in,” she said. “I’ll make you girls some coffee.”
81
Tyler
“Tyler? What’s going on? Is everything all right?”
I had, somehow, made my way to Fowler Street, pacing in place where the main road turned into gravel—turned into Meredith’s private drive. I’d called Arthur a dozen times, maybe more. I hated having to bother him. This was his final weekend in California. But I didn’t know where else to turn. I didn’t have a father. I didn’t have Mikey’s father. I didn’t have a single other soul on this planet who still saw the best in me. Not anymore, anyway. Not after today.
Maybe that was why I called.
Maybe I was hoping he would co-sign my shit.
“What the fuck,” he said, “were you thinking?”
I could hear, in the background, the sound of laughter. The sound of chatter—of tomorrow being planned or a card game being played. I closed my eyes and pictured the scene: Arthur and Rachel and their daughter and their grandchildren, together, finally. Arthur, having done the work. Having waited for this, without expectation, and with a smile on his face.
