The Fix

by Natasha Sinel

  “Who?” Gavin asked, like he actually cared about celebrities. He must have realized no one else was going to take the bait. Certainly I wouldn’t, and Mom still seemed to be reeling from Scott’s abandonment of his super-awesome gallery-owner girlfriend on perhaps the most important night of her career.

  “Leo,” he said. “He has a new girlfriend. A model from Venezuela. Nobody could keep their eyes off her, and it was driving Leo absolutely insane. He kept trying to move into a dark corner so people would stop looking at her. But I really think he was just pissed that she was getting all the attention. Finally, I broke down and gave the poor sucker the VIP room.”

  “We saw his new movie the other night,” Gavin said, looking to me for backup. “Not bad.”

  “Phenomenal,” Scott said. “Best acting he’s done yet. Really. I smell Oscar.”

  Just then we heard the garage door. Mom, Gavin, and I all sat up straighter and looked at each other. There were footsteps, and then Dad appeared in the dining room. He looked just as startled as we were.

  “Hi, everyone,” he said.

  “Dad!” I couldn’t help sounding like a kid. I jumped up and gave him a big hug. He looked tired, with stubbly uneven beard growth and saggy eyelids.

  He took a clump of dreads in each hand. He looked surprised and then sad.

  “Wow, things are different. What’s this?” he asked.

  “The hairstyle suits her,” Mom said, shockingly coming to my defense. Then she got up and gave him a quick kiss. “Honey. I didn’t know you were coming home tonight. We would have waited for you.”

  “No, no, it’s okay,” he said, ruffling Gavin’s hair and clapping Scott on the back. “My flight got in late so I missed my dinner meeting in the city. I figured I’d come home and see you guys, take tomorrow off. Let me take a shower. I’ll be down in a minute.” And then he went upstairs.

  Mom sat back down, her lips in a tight thin line.

  “What’s up with Rob? He looks like shit,” Scott said.

  “He’s been traveling the last couple of weeks,” Mom said.

  “Man, he works hard. But I guess it’s all worth it for this.” Scott gestured his hand around the dining room, meaning the house, the kids, all of our expensive habits. He forgot to point at himself, the most expensive habit of all.

  Mom got up and brought in a plate, silverware, and wine glass and set them at Dad’s place. She hesitated before sitting down again.

  Did Dad hate my new hair? Again, I had to convince myself that I’d created my dreads for myself, to be strong, to be different. It was okay if not everyone liked them. Even Dad.

  Scott talked about events he was planning for the club while Mom looked off into the distance, and I focused on eating, hating that I was savoring each bite of Scott’s meal.

  Then Dad came down. He looked like himself again. Handsome, clean-shaven, his dark hair wet and slicked back. He had on khakis and a navy blue polo shirt.

  He took his usual seat at the head of the table and served himself food.

  “I’m starving,” he said. “I’ve been eating crap all week. This is great, Scott, thanks.”

  “It’s nothing,” Scott said. “My pleasure.” But nothing was ever nothing with Scott. Dinner had to be a buttering up for something. Most likely another loan—especially with him showing up last minute and without Yoli. He wanted something.

  “And I brought some Scotch for after dinner,” he continued, looking at Dad.

  “Sure,” Dad said. “So, Gavin, Macy, what have I missed? Well, other than your new hair.” He smiled at me. “I was surprised to see such a big change, and I wasn’t even gone that long. But Mom’s right. It looks great. You look like a flower that’s just bloomed. Beautiful, sweetie.”

  I tried to hold in my smile unsuccessfully. Dad liked my dreads.

  “So, tell me the happenings. Tell me all.”

  “Gavin’s in loooove,” I said. Gavin shot me the finger and snarled.

  “Hey,” Dad said. “A guy has a right to keep his feelings private. Gavin? Just let me know when you want to have that birds and bees talk I’ve been trying to have with you.” Gavin made gagging sounds.

  “Macy’s been partying every night,” Gavin said.

  “Tattletale,” I said. “Not true.”

  “Hold on a sec,” Dad said. “I was gone for, what, ten days? And, somehow against the rules of nature, instead of growing up ten days, you have regressed about five years. When I was growing up …”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” I said. “We know, you and your brothers were best friends, respected each other and your parents. You never told on each other, no matter how horrible the crime.”

  Dad sighed. He looked at Mom. “I think I’m being made fun of.” Everything felt normal. Almost. But the vein by Dad’s temple that popped out when he clenched his teeth was at attention. And Mom was quiet all of a sudden, almost shy. I knew something wasn’t quite right, but at least Dad was making an effort.

  “Deb,” Dad said, looking at her across the table. “Did you get your hair done too?”

  “It was getting too blond,” she said.

  “It looks good,” he said. “Has anyone challenged you on the ladder?”

  “No. I guess everyone’s scared of my backhand.” She laughed, but it wasn’t real. She twisted the diamond ring on her finger.

  “Hey, let’s all go for a walk after dinner,” Dad said. “When was the last time we did that? A night walk with the whole family. Let’s do it.”

  We all looked at him like he was crazy. Because he was. Probably the last time we’d gone for a family night walk was, um, never.

  Gavin was the first to speak up. “Good idea, Dad, but nah.”

  “I have plans, Dad. But nice idea. Really.” I rolled my eyes at him.

  “Come on, guys,” he said. “Why are you all such naysayers?”

  “I’ll walk with you, hon,” Mom said.

  “Me too,” Scott said. “I’ll even hold hands with you and look at the stars.”

  “To quote you kids, ‘Whatevs,’” Dad said, and he seemed genuinely annoyed. He stood up and brought his dishes to the sink. Gavin and I exchanged a look. I wasn’t positive what his look said, but mine said What the fuck?

  Mom looked at the dishes on the table and then at me—my cue to start clearing. Scott had followed Dad into the kitchen and was talking quietly to him by the sink.

  “Excuse me,” I said, pushing past them to load the dishwasher. They moved into the family room. Then Dad turned on the TV and flipped the channels until he got to the Mets game. Scott opened up his bottle of Scotch.

  I slammed the dishwasher shut and went to my room. Having Dad home again was different. Maybe because Scott was here. Maybe something was actually different about Dad. But it didn’t completely ruin the fact that he was back, and I could breathe a little better now.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  On Saturday morning, sleep left me, but not suddenly. It took its own sweet time, like it wasn’t really sure if it wanted to go. I tried to hang on to it, to stay inside the dream I’d been having, which—even though I couldn’t remember what it was—I knew was good. I lay still and closed my eyes again, trying to capture what had caused this feeling, this peaceful, sweet, easy, and oh-so-rare feeling. But it was gone. It had retreated like a turtle back into its shell.

  For a moment, I got a childlike thrill when I remembered Dad was home, like when I was little and he’d come home after a long trip. He’d make up for having missed a game or recital by spending time with me tossing around a baseball or something. But then I remembered that I was seventeen and that wasn’t going to happen this time. And the knowledge that the day ahead held nothing much of anything and that everything basically sucked replaced that momentary peace I’d had.

  I got up, brushed my teeth, did some dread maintenance, and made my way downstairs, letting my nose guide me to the coffee. Mom was horrified I drank coffee. She said I was way too young; she didn’t start drinking it
until she was twenty-five, and even now, she only drank one, maybe two cups a day. Some days, though, the smell of coffee was the only thing that got me out of bed.

  But today, on my way downstairs, I was stopped mid-step by an argument in the kitchen.

  “It’s not that much,” Mom said.

  “I don’t give a shit how much it is, Deb,” Dad said. “I don’t want to give him another dime.”

  “He’s our nephew,” Mom said.

  “He’s not a baby anymore. He’s a man. And he needs to start acting like one.”

  “It’s an investment, Rob.”

  “Right.” Dad laughed. “An investment in a new club that’s going to be the hottest thing. Just like the others, right? How much money has he paid us back? Huh, Deb?”

  “He will,” Deb said. “He’s just getting on his feet now.”

  “He has no feet. He doesn’t need feet. He has a boat—a yacht, actually—and he sails it in a never-ending ocean of my money.”

  “That’s a good one,” Mom said, actually laughing.

  Dad sighed in defeat. “I don’t feel like fighting about it, Deb.”

  “This will be the last time,” she said. “What do you want to drink tonight?”

  “You choose.”

  “You trust me?” Mom said, and I heard her open the basement door. “Wow, that’s a first.”

  She disappeared into the basement.

  “California!” Dad called down to her. “French has been giving me a headache.”

  As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I heard Mom call up, “So, then what you really meant was that it’s my choice, but only if it’s what you want.”

  “Very funny,” he called back to her.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said when he saw me.

  “Hi, Dad.” I leaned into him. He kissed the top of my head. I took a mug out of the cupboard and poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “You slept late,” he said.

  “Well, what else is there to do on a Saturday?” I was hinting for Dad to invite me to do something.

  I searched for something to eat.

  “I’m sorry about Nantucket and vacation breakfast,” he said.

  I looked up from the cereal cupboard. Dad looked miserable.

  “It’s just not the best time to go right now,” he continued. “I know Mom said it was because of Scott’s classes, but it’s also my work schedule and some cash flow issues. Things are stressful right now.”

  “Is the business okay?”

  “It’ll be fine. This market is scary for everyone, but it’s all going to be fine. Everyone just has to tighten their belts for a while. So I have to connect with all my clients to reassure them, and face-to-face is always better.”

  I guess that explained the long hours and extra traveling, but if he was so tight on cash, I didn’t get why he’d agreed to give Scott another loan.

  Dad put his arm around me and I breathed in his fatherly, spicy aftershave.

  “You feel like tossing the ball around a bit?” he asked.

  “Really?”

  “Sure. Grab the mitts and I’ll meet you out back.”

  I nearly jumped for joy. Dad was home.

  I spent the rest of the weekend hanging out with Gavin and Dad, my companion, my friend, my Mom-translator and buffer. Mom called Scott to ask him to come home again, but, to my relief, he never called back.

  And I didn’t hear from Sebastian.

  On Monday, Dad left for work and I was pretty mopey. Until I checked my e-mail.

  From: SebastianRuiz513@bmail.com

  To: macythegreat@bmail.com

  I’m home. I got out yesterday. Do you want to try to meet later? My mom said I could have the car for an hour in the afternoon. Like 4 p.m.? McDonald’s?

  I tried not to think about Sebastian all day, about why he hadn’t called me all weekend, about what it would be like to see him again outside the psych ward. My brain went back and forth between joy and panic. Joy: I was so happy that Sebastian had made it out of the hospital. Panic: I had to see him out of the hospital. Joy: I got to see him! Panic: Would it be weird seeing each other? We hadn’t even talked since the Luke thing. All day at camp, I was a nervous wreck, my foot shaking every time I had to sit still. Rebecca eyed me curiously, but it was too hectic for her to ask me what the hell my problem was. Somehow I made it through the rest of the workday.

  At exactly four, I turned into the McDonald’s lot and parked between a Range Rover and a Mercedes. Even the rich and famous love a Big Mac once in a while. I got out of the car and hoisted my bag further up onto my shoulder. The toe of my sandal got caught in a mini pothole, and I stumbled. Once I’d steadied myself, I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. It doesn’t matter who you are; everyone looks like a fool when tripping. But no one had seen. I opened the door, the cold air-conditioning smacking me in the face. I searched the tables. It was late afternoon on a Monday, so there were just a few old ladies having coffee and french fries and a couple of moms watching their kids run around on the indoor jungle gym. No Sebastian in sight.

  I slid into a booth and stared out the window at the cars.

  “Hey,” a quiet, low voice startled me. Sebastian.

  “Hi,” I said. I stood up and we sort of hugged, but I was halfway in the booth and he was so tall that it didn’t really work. I laughed nervously.

  He sat across from me, put his long fingers on the table. He was still skinny and pale, but he was less grayish. The brown of his skin had returned some.

  “Hey,” he said again, with a self-conscious smile.

  “Hey,” I said. “Why didn’t you call?”

  I hadn’t meant it to sound so aggressive, but it had.

  He looked down. “Sorry.”

  “I just meant, um, about getting home. That’s great…. Is Luke alright?” I asked.

  “Maybe a little better.”

  He wouldn’t look at me. What was happening?

  “You want some coffee?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” We both started to stand. “I’ll get it,” I said.

  “Okay.” He pulled a few dollars out of his pocket and handed them to me.

  “What do you want in it?” I asked.

  “Just black.” We avoided each other’s eyes. Where was the connection? Was it gone? Or was I just nervous? I walked to the counter. After everything I thought we’d had at the hospital—and the connection was just gone?

  I got the coffees and carried them back to our table. Sebastian drummed the table with his fingers.

  “So?” I asked as I put the coffees down and slid into my side of the booth. “What’s it like being home again?”

  “Thanks.” He lifted his cup and took a cautious sip of the piping hot coffee. “Home’s good, I guess.”

  I hesitated, unsure how much to ask. “Is your mom being cool?”

  “She’s pretty freaked. She thinks I’m pissed at her for sending me there.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “Yup.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Not surprising.”

  “The therapists say I have to let that go, though. She was only doing what needed to be done.”

  He looked out the window. A few cars were inching along the drive-through. Every time a car pulled up to the window, a bodiless, faceless arm reached out to hand over a package of food.

  “What about Sofia?” I asked.

  “Sofia’s so cool. She’s all, lemme show you this new toy, and come play with me and stuff. She’s cute.”

  “That’s nice,” I said. That’s nice? That was the best I could come up with to keep the conversation alive?

  My shoulders were tight with frustration, sadness, even anger. It felt like we were two strangers. There was something about Sebastian that I’d needed, that I’d gotten from the visits, from our phone calls. But now, in the real world, it wasn’t the same.

  “Your hair looks good,” he said. It was the first time he was seeing my dreads without a bandana wrapped arou
nd them.

  “Really? Thanks.”

  “It’s a good look for you,” he said.

  “You don’t think it’s too, you know, too … too?”

  He laughed. “Well …” he said. “It is kind of a statement.”

  “Oh, really!” I said. “And what’s it saying?”

  “It’s trying to say ‘I’m a badass chick, don’t mess with me.’”

  “And what’s it really saying?” I asked, trying not to be offended.

  “It’s really saying ‘I want you to think I’m a badass chick, but really I’m soft as a little chickie. Bawk bawk!’” He flapped his arms like a chicken and I couldn’t help laughing. He looked ridiculous with his giant, skinny arms.

  “Look at you!” I said. “With your little specs and buzz cut, thinking you’re fooling everyone like ‘I’m all clean-cut and studious,’ but I know what you’re hiding under there.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you do, as a matter of fact.”

  Then it was silent as we both sipped our coffee.

  “Sorry,” I said. He waved the air, brushing it away.

  “You know,” he said, quietly. “I kinda wish …”

  My phone buzzed with a text.

  “It’s my brother, Gavin,” I said. “Hold on a sec.”

  GAVIN: Can u pick me up?

  ME: Where?

  GAVIN: Eliza’s.

  ME: Trouble on lover’s lane?

  GAVIN: Can u come or not?

  ME: B there in 20.

  “Everything okay?” Sebastian asked when I looked up.

  “He needs me to pick him up. I’m his chauffeur this summer.”

  “Where’s your mom?” he asked.

  “Probably the gym, like always.”

  “Everybody’s got their vice,” he said. “You have to go now?” He seemed relieved, and I felt it too.

  I looked into his eyes again. There. I felt a little something, but still not like before.

  “I should,” I said, putting the lid on my coffee. “I’m sorry to cut out so early. It’s just that he’s kind of needy lately. I don’t want to leave him hanging.”

  “I get it,” he said. “It’s cool. We’ll talk later.”

  “Yeah. See you later.”