I open the fridge, grab a beer, and crack it on the edge of the counter.
I should call my agent. Why isn’t Benny sending me podcast alerts like Spinner’s agent? I should issue a statement or do my own interview.
Instead, I drink the beer. And then another. And I'm reaching for a third when Ella walks through the door.
She reads me in three seconds, dropping her bag and kicking off her shoes before crossing the room to interrupt my father’s voice in my head.
"What happened?"
"Nothing." I turn away from her, unable to manage my relief at the sight of her compared to my dread of what that means.
"Bernard." She takes the beer from my hand and sets it on the counter. "What happened?"
I show her the podcast. She scans the transcript quickly, jaw tightening, before she closes it.
"He's an asshole."
"He's my father."
"Those things aren't mutually exclusive." She looks at me. Steady. Unafraid. "What do you need?"
I stare at her. I need to hit something. I need to skate until my lungs burn. I need to be someone else's son. I need her to stay right where she is and never move.
"I don't know," I say.
She takes my hand, leads me to the couch, sits beside me, and doesn't talk. She holds my hand, leans her head on my shoulder, and we sit in silence. And it’s the best thing I can imagine.
My phone buzzes. I glance over to see a preview of Rookie, in the group chat, sending a clip of his media appearance with three fire emojis. Then Spinner, sending the podcast link to the same chat with the message:
yo Howie you good?
Rookie responds:
wtf is this? Howie your dad is cringe
bro that's fucked up
want me to call him?
I almost laugh. Jason Rujkowski, who cannot remember to buy his sister a game ticket, is offering to call my father and defend me. There's a version of that gesture that's touching. There's another version that's just Rookie — loud, impulsive, charging into situations he doesn't understand because action is faster than thought.
I type back:
I'm good. Don't call him. I'll handle it.
But I don't handle it so much as I sit on the couch with his forbidden sister, whose virginity I exploded. But truly, I think I did something selfish. I could have helped Ella find a nice guy who would be with her in the open. But I wanted her. I wanted her so bad, and damn it, I still want her sitting beside me through all this crap.
When the keys in the lock signal Rookie’s arrival, she drops my hand, moves to the chair, and opens the laptop.
Rookie collapses onto the couch beside me, making it feel like Ella is across an ocean. My roommate drops an arm around my shoulder and says, "Dude, your dad is a piece of work. You want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Cool. Want to watch game highlights?”
"Sure."
He turns on the TV. Cracks a protein shake. Talks over the play-by-play the way he talks over everything.
