by Megan Hart
Most of the time, Janelle was able to follow Ryan’s ramblings, but not this time. “Huh?”
“It’s just this guy showed up here a couple weeks ago. Said he knew you, he’d tracked you down, I guess. From our old place.”
“What guy?” It had been a long time since she’d lived with Ryan.
“This old guy. Shit, I can’t believe I didn’t tell you. I meant to, the next day, you know, but I got into something and then I forgot....”
“Ryan. Just tell me. Who was it? What did he want?”
“He said he wanted me to tell him where you were. So I said you’d gone home to Pennsylvania.”
Frustrated, Janelle spit out a sigh. “You told some stranger how to find me?”
“Oh, no,” Ryan said with another laugh. “He wasn’t a stranger. He said he was your dad.”
THIRTY
Then
THE LAST TIME Janelle actually saw her dad, he’d promised to take her on vacation to the beach. Not the normal beach, either, but one of those all-inclusive resorts with all-you-can-eat food and swimming and snorkeling and meeting dolphins and stuff. She knows better than to believe him. Her dad likes to promise lots of things and then not deliver.
But this is different than a pony or a new stereo or even the car she knows she will never get, no matter how many times he tells her that when she turns sixteen she’ll have one sitting in the driveway. This is a trip, and she knows for a fact her dad is going because he booked a gig. He’ll play guitar for the drunk people by the pool during the day and drunker people in the bars at night. This is a good job for him, because he gets to play music for money, and also have a place to live and food to eat. And, he tells her, he gets to bring his family down to enjoy it.
Dad left for the Caribbean still promising to send for her. Maybe over Christmas break, he says, but the weeks pass and Christmas comes and goes. Maybe spring break, he tells her on a postcard that arrives crumpled and stained sometime in February. But spring break also comes and goes without word, without an airplane ticket. And after that...she doesn’t hear anything again for a long time.
He isn’t dead, she knows that much for sure, because she hears her mom hollering at him on the phone one night when Janelle’s supposed to be in bed. Randall knows she’s listening at the top of the stairs, because he passed her in the hallway on the way to his bedroom. He squeezed her shoulder as he did, but he didn’t say anything, which was the perfect thing to say.
After that, sometimes postcards arrive from exotic locations, usually with nothing more than a scrawled signature. Envelopes with cash arrive even more infrequently, though those often also include photos. Janelle throws away the pictures but keeps the cash. She uses it to buy a VW Rabbit pickup truck.
Still, when it comes time to send out the graduation announcements, Janelle has only a short list. Her mom and Randall, of course. Relatives from her mom’s side who won’t make the trip to St. Marys but will probably send her gifts. Her uncles and aunts from her dad’s side already know, of course, but they get their own announcements stuffed into the pretty envelopes and carefully addressed in Janelle’s best handwriting. Most of them will come to the barbecue at Nan’s, and hopefully they’ll all bring presents, too.
Janelle has to ask Nan for her dad’s address, though. She’s not even sure Nan has it, but she asks. And Nan gives it to her.
Janelle sends her dad an announcement, along with an invitation to the graduation party. A week later, he sends her a long letter telling her all about what he’s been up to, where he’s been. She doesn’t care much about that, but the part about how proud he is of her...that does matter. Even after everything else that’s happened, that matters.
At least until the day before she’s set to graduate, and the phone rings. Nan calls her down from upstairs, holding out the phone with a small, sad smile. Janelle already knows who’s on the other line, and what he’ll say.
So it’s no surprise, but it’s still a disappointment. Just one more. But the last one, she tells him.
“Forget it, Dad,” Janelle says, thinking she might cry, and proud when she doesn’t. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll come get you in a week or so. Take you traveling with me this summer—”
“No.”
He sounds surprised. “What? What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, no, Dad. I’m not going anywhere with you. Ever. Don’t bother calling me anymore, either.”
“Aww, Janny, don’t—”
“Don’t call me that.”
That’s when he launches into a long, exaggerated explanation of why, exactly, why she shouldn’t be mad at him, why she ought to just “get over it.” And that’s when Janelle hangs up on him. She does it softly, gently, the handset practically kissing the cradle.
And she never speaks to him again.
* * *
“Yes. He called here, can you believe it?” Janelle’s mom snorted derision into the phone. “I told him he was an idiot.”
“But he asked you where I was?” Janelle kept her voice low, mindful that Nan was knitting slowly on her afghan, and Bennett and Andy were at the kitchen table, working on math. With her luck, at any minute Gabe would show up with his tool bag and his sleeves rolled up. They could make it a party.
Her mom hesitated. “Yes. I told him.”
“Mom!”
“He has the right to know his mom is dying, Janelle. He has the right to know his grandson.”
“Yes to the first, no to the second. And frankly, if he doesn’t know about his own mother, maybe he doesn’t deserve to know.”
Janelle’s mom was quiet for a moment. “I know you’re angry at your dad....”
“Yeah, see, that’s the thing. I’m not angry. Not anymore. I got over that a long time ago.” It tasted like a lie she told herself so many times she no longer noticed how bitter the flavor.
“Believe me, I’m not telling you to just greet him with open arms. But maybe you could find some way to forgive him. He’s your dad, for better or for worse. Mostly for worse.”
“Did he say when he was coming?”
“He didn’t say if he was going there at all,” her mom said. “He seemed pretty shaken up about your grandma.”
“Yeah, and it wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t come through for someone, would it?”
Janelle’s mom sighed. “No. It wouldn’t.”
“I’m sure he does want to make his peace with Nan. But not for her sake. It would only be for his. And he doesn’t get a chance to mess up my son.” The words came out in a hiss. They hurt her tongue.
Janelle peeked around the living room archway through the kitchen. At the dining room table, Andy laughed as he bent over Bennett’s work. Bennett laughed, too, and ducked away when Andy ruffled his hair.
“He cannot,” she said, “mess up my kid.”
THIRTY-ONE
JANELLE HAD OFFERED him coffee and homemade cinnamon rolls when he finished fixing the molding around the front screen door, but instead of lingering over caffeine and sweets, Gabe lingered over the task. It hadn’t been complicated—just cutting out the wooden trim that had gone soft with rot, and replacing it. She’d told him he didn’t need to paint it to match, that she could handle it, but Gabe had cracked open the small can of paint and dipped the brush in. He’d started the job; he meant to finish it.
That, and the longer it took him in here, the longer he could stay listening to all of them laughing and chatting without having to actually join them.
He was such an idiot. He should finish up here the way he’d planned, then go home. Or out. It was Friday night. He didn’t have to work tomorrow. He hadn’t gone out in weeks. So why was he over here, making repairs and thinking about all the other things on the list she’d given him? She hadn’t even paid him for most of the stuff he’d already done.
And there she was, leaning in the doorway, holding out a fresh mug of coffee.
“Hey.” Janelle smiled.
Gabe
straightened. “Hi.”
“Brought you some more coffee. I could get you a beer, if you’d rather have that.”
“No. Coffee’s fine.” He didn’t move forward to take it. “I’m just about finished with this.”
“Oh, looks great!” She moved forward to check out his work. “I said you didn’t have to paint it.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“Did you bring me a receipt?”
She’d always had a great smile; she’d always been able to use it to get him to do what she wanted. He’d always liked it better when she smiled.
“No, sorry. I forgot.” Gabe said it as if he regretted it. Truth was, he didn’t care. He could afford the twenty bucks here or there that he’d spent so far.
The inside of her cheek tucked inward, another old habit he remembered. “Oh. Well...okay. Can you tell me how much I owe you, then? It’s just I need the receipts for record keeping....”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry about it,” Janelle told him. “I told you I’d pay you for the work. It’s not charity, Gabe. I don’t expect you to work for free, much less buy all the supplies and stuff.”
“I’ll get them to you.” He reached for the mug. “Maybe you can pay me in coffee and cinnamon rolls.”
She laughed. “What a bargain. C’mon, then. Andy and Bennett are helping me and Nan sort through old pictures. You can help.”
“Oh, I—”
She snared him with that smile. “C’mon, Gabe. There are some of you in there you might like to see.”
He followed her into the family room. “Pictures...of me?”
“Gabe hates having his picture taken,” Andy said. “Hey, Gabe.”
Bennett gave him a grin so much like Janelle’s it felt sort of like a stab. “Gabe, look at all these old pictures we found!”
“They’re embarrassing,” Janelle warned.
Mrs. Decker pushed the plate of cinnamon rolls across the table. “Sit down, grab a bite. You’ve been working hard.”
“Not that hard, Mrs. Decker.” He sat, though.
In front of him on the table were several piles of pictures, some with sticky notes beneath them, scribbled with people’s names. Andy had a small pile in front him. Bennett was sorting through another set from an old shoe box. Janelle took the seat next to Gabe and filled her empty mug with coffee.
“Anyone want a top-up?”
Andy offered his mug. “Me, thanks.”
“How many have you had?” Gabe gave his brother a suspicious look.
Andy grinned. “Just one.”
“You’ll be up all night,” Gabe warned.
Andy and Bennett high-fived. Janelle shook her head.
“They’re planning an all-night Crazytown marathon. I told them they could...if it’s okay with you?”
He’d never known her to be a second-guesser, but she gave him a hesitant smile as though asking his permission.
“What’s it to him?” Andy said.
Gabe frowned. “Maybe she doesn’t want you hanging out here all night, did you think of that?”
“What’s Crazytown, anyway?” asked Mrs. Decker.
“It’s a video game, Nan. Andy just got it. And it’s so fun!” Bennett thumped the table.
Mrs. Decker shook her head. “What’s this ‘so fun’ you always say? So fun. When I was young, we’d say something was ‘so much fun’ or ‘so very fun.’ Somewhere along the way, you started dropping out words.”
Bennett leaned over to put his arm around her, rocking a little bit as they both laughed. “It’s what young people do.”
“It won’t bother me,” Janelle stated. She waited until Gabe looked at her, then smiled. “Andy’s welcome over here anytime. Just like...old times.”
“Look, Gabe. Here’s you.” Andy held up a faded snapshot. “When you were little.”
“Let me see that.” Gabe took the picture. He tipped it back and forth, studying it.
Janelle leaned over his shoulder to look, too. “Nice pants.”
Red corduroy. Wide belt loops. Flared legs. “I loved those pants.”
“Haha, eww, you didn’t!” Janelle punched him lightly on the arm.
“I wouldn’t laugh so much, if I were you.” Gabe pulled another picture from Andy’s pile. He flipped it up to show her. In it, a small girl with red hair pulled up into pigtails gave a gap-toothed grin to the camera as she held up a fish in one hand, a rod in the other. She wore a pair of white tube socks with red stripes, and matching short shorts, red with white piping.
“Oh, God. Give me that!” Janelle grabbed it out of his hand. “Eww! Oh, my God. I remember those shorts. I remember that day.”
Her smile faded. “I was fishing with my dad.”
Bennett took the picture from her. “That’s a big fish, Mom.”
“Yeah. It was.” Janelle cleared her throat and cupped her hands around her coffee mug.
“What did you do with it?” Bennett tilted his head to study the photo. Again, he looked so much like Janelle it gave Gabe a pang.
“Well. First we cleaned it. Then we put it in a frying pan and cooked it up and ate it.”
It was Bennett’s turn to scream out “Eww!” which made Andy guffaw loudly. Mrs. Decker shook her head, but fondly. Janelle didn’t laugh. Her fingers twitched on the mug. When her eyes met Gabe’s, they shimmered.
“I’ve never been fishing,” Bennett announced. “Do you always have to eat the fish you cook?”
Andy let out a loud laugh. “What? Never been fishing? That’s crazier than Crazytown!”
“Maybe we can go this summer. When we go to Parker Dam. That’s what it’s called, right, Mom?” Bennett looked at his mother with wide, expectant eyes.
“Yes. Maybe.” Janelle took the picture back from him and turned it over and over in her fingers.
“Andy can come too, right, Andy? Do you like to fish?”
“Yep.” He nodded. “I sure do.”
“How about you, Gabe?” Janelle asked. “Do you like to fish?”
He did, but hadn’t gone in years. “Sure.”
That earned him a smile. “Good. You can come with us.”
“Oh, look,” Mrs. Decker said suddenly, peering over the edge of her glasses. “Here’s a picture for you.”
She passed it to Andy first, who looked at it with a small frown. He passed it to Gabe. “Who’s that?”
Gabe took the picture. He recognized himself, younger even than in the other one Andy had shown him. He recognized the woman in the photo, too, the one holding an infant in one arm. “It’s you.”
“Me?” Andy took the picture back. “Where’s Mikey?”
“He was taking a nap or something.” It would’ve been useless to point out that Andy and Mike hadn’t done every single thing together their entire lives, even if it had seemed that way.
“Who’s that holding me?”
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Decker said with a laugh. “That’s your mother.”
Andy looked harder at the picture without any sign of grief. “Oh. Before she died.”
“Oh...she died?” Mrs. Decker gave Gabe a questioning look.
“I was some kind of cute baby.” Andy put the picture on his pile. “Can I keep that one?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Decker stifled a yawn. “What time is it? It’s late. Oh, I believe I’d like to think about getting to bed.”
“I’ll help you, Nan.” Janelle stood and glanced at Gabe. “Are you going to stick around a little longer?”
He shook his head. “Gotta run to the store, pick up a few things.”
“Hey, I need to head to the store, too. Can I hitch a ride?”
She asked so casually, so nonchalantly, there was no good way for him to say no without sounding like a giant bag of dicks. While she helped Mrs. Decker get ready for bed, Gabe finished up a few little things he’d left undone in the living room. Andy and Bennett passed him, heading for the stairs, but Gabe snagged his brother’s arm.
>
“You’re not really going to stay all night?”
Andy paused. “Sure. Why not? I don’t have to work tomorrow, and Benny doesn’t have school. It’s the new Crazytown, Gabe. C’mon.”
The kid was already halfway up the stairs, but he stopped to look back. “My mom said it was okay, really. She doesn’t care.”
The question was, why did Gabe care? “Do you have your medicine?”
Andy sighed. “Yes. Of course.”
“What about, like...a toothbrush and stuff?”
“What do I need a toothbrush for?” Andy asked with a frown. “I’m not going to be brushing my teeth. Jeeze.”
“We have an extra one he can use, if he really needs one,” Bennett offered helpfully.
Gabe stepped back, thinking of a hundred reasons why his brother shouldn’t stay over here, and unable to express a single one. He watched Andy follow the kid up the stairs and into the room on the left. He was still looking when Janelle came back, shrugging into a hoodie and looking at him expectantly.
“Ready?”
“You sure you want Andy staying over all night?”
Her mouth pursed. “I don’t care, so long as they’re quiet. Besides, you really think they’ll stay up all night? They’ll play until one or two in the morning and then pass out.”
“Yeah...but he should just come home then. Not sleep over.”
Janelle looked at him curiously. “It’s not a big deal to me, really. And...it will be fun. For them.”
Gabe thought of the times his brother woke screaming in the night, bathed in sweat, fighting nightmares he claimed to never remember. Or worse, the times when the meds failed him and he had a seizure. It had been a while, the last one so mild nobody would’ve noticed if they didn’t know what to look for, but even so...
“He hasn’t spent the night away from home before, that’s all. Not unless he was in the hospital.”
Both her brows went up, her mouth parting. “Oh. Wow.”
“I mean since...you know. Not that he never did in his whole life.” Gabe swallowed more words, an explanation, anything that would make him sound like some kind of freak.
She nodded. “I understand. The first time Bennett slept over at a friend’s house, I was so anxious I burned a meat loaf and the fire department had to come.”
