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“How old were you?”

“Probably around four.”

“And you remember all that detail?”

“Yes. And I remember thinking you shouldn’t mess around with live animals. Especially if they’re scared. Took me years to try lobster because I was so struck by how terrified the lobster must have been. I didn’t quite remember all of it until I saw that bar again. It has to be the original bar.” She smiles and looks off dreamily. I let her sit in her memory for a moment as I enjoy the view. She’s so fucking beautiful. It’s maddening. Her hair is still mostly tucked up in that pink hat, and there’s slight makeup residue under her left eye, but that smile kills me. Her eyes make everything around her lighter, including me. Fuck it. Despite all my bullshit, I just want her to lighten my life for as long as I can have her.

“Are you going to tell him you’re still in town?” She squirms a bit. It’s the big fat thing weighing her down. I see her mind drift to her father as she swims in the memories of this place. Then, finally, she shrugs and looks beyond me. “Let’s get it out of the way so you can enjoy me enjoying all the parts of you. You don’t have to call him, but decide now so you can put it to rest.”

She sits back and crosses her arms. “But I don’t wanna.” I grin at her tantrum. I smile and slide her phone to her.

She looks down and takes it. “It’s a damned if I do kind of thing.” She’s quiet. “I don’t know what to expect and I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t want to see me.”

I say, “I’ll go with you or I’ll hold you.” I pull her hand closer. After a reasonable amount of time, I ask, “Are you ok?”

“Yes. It’s hard to watch, and it hurts because there’s nothing I can do but wait. Every hug, call, or conversation has a finality to it. He’s young but he gave up.”

“I don’t want this to sound callous, but that fucking pisses me off.” My voice cuts sharply through the moment.

She places her hand on my face. “Me too. Your dad took opportunities in life, had friends, family, relationships, compassion, and adventure, and he fucking died. He died in such a stupid way. And my father’s giving it away.” She references my dad’s fatal car accident. A drunk driver hit him. I wince.

She slides her chair next to mine and I clutch her tight. She miraculously comprehends without explanation. I feel cheated, and Jeffery is filling time until he can die. And he’s not even grasping onto the people who do care for him. She’s fantastic, and he still isn’t brave enough to reach out to her. She’s here for him, but I’m the one who gets to be here for her. I would give anything to spend an afternoon with Dad, and he’s pissing it away. I pinch the bridge of my nose to force the emotions to retreat.

I say, “If you don’t want to see him, I won’t push. No one knows you’re here.”

“As long as you promise lots of tongue stuff later, I’ll be ok.” I take her lips and I can’t imagine this ever getting passé. “See, now I’m fine.” She bites her thumbnail, and looks away. I swear she looks sixteen. I pull her chin up so she has to look me in the eye.

“You’re not, but I’ll stop inquiring.”

“I’ll text my dad. We can stop by before we get in our jammies to watch Jimmy, Kate, and Cary and eat our weight in junk food.”

“I pick the jammies, you pick the crap food.” She nods, and I walk toward the bathroom to give her space.

19

JILLIEN

I grab his hand as he begins to walk away. He turns back. My eyes fill as I say words I don’t want to admit or even think. “There’s a weakness I don’t want you to know.”

“That’s your opinion. Let me see, I’ll be the judge.”

“No one says things like that. I know my vagina is magical, but those are truly lovely words.”

“She has nothing to do with it.” His kiss is so light. It’s like gossamer. Like a specter from the future. I touch my lips as he turns a corner out of my view. I’m on a hella dangerous runaway train of thought. Our everything is weighted because of our history. I want to be casual, or maybe I don’t, but he does and I can do that.

I exhale and wait for my eyes to clear. I slam his beer and pull up my father’s number. I don’t know if I want to bring Fletch with me to see him. A formerly dapper man, always pressed and crisp, now spends his days in different variations of sweatpants and untucked oxfords. A part of me feels the need to cover for him and his image. Like it’s my obligation to the family to make sure our image is untarnished.

My parents weren’t happy. She bought things, and he drank things. Eventually, my mother took all she could and left him the liquor cabinet and an inflated sense of self-worth. She found someone new to finance her shopping and facial-tweaking habit and love every daffy part of her, retouched or not. And he found two more women who thought he was wonderful—for a while.

My brother and I walked on eggshells growing up, not sure which parent would crack first. We had each other, and I had Liam’s house.

For years the wives concealed all embarrassments of financial, social, or occupational failures. I learned from the women in my life there’s power in holding a family together by glossing over the truth. It’s not a healthy power, but I have it. I’m not sure that power is for good or evil. I don’t want to live in the darkness, and I try hard to be honest with Ethan. Even if I shield him from the worst. But he knows his grandfather drinks and it’s why I don’t make him visit. If he wants to see his grandfather, then I’ll bring him here, but he’s under no obligation. I can choose to break the cycle for him, I just can’t seem to shake decades-long expectations and duty for myself.

Fletch will see my whole childhood was a façade of what my father believed a family should look like. He was never abusive, verbally or otherwise, just absent even when sitting next to you. I felt as if I danced hard enough, laughed loud enough, or studied long enough I’d eventually get his attention. The truth is, he was probably only thinking about how long he had to listen to me before he could take another sip.

It’s letting Liam behind the curtain. And that shit is not for a casual hookup.

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