The Company You Keep

by Tracy Kelleher

  Mimi rose and lowered her shoulders. “Hey, your money’s still plenty good.”

  “Just not as much of it, now that I’m no longer with Pilgrim,” he reminded her.

  “I’m sure you’ll bounce back.” Mimi found herself in the odd position of having to defend her father. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Listen, I want to thank you for the noble gesture.”

  “The little snot was getting on my nerves. And between you and me, the scuttlebutt is that he’s due to be replaced by the end of the summer anyway.”

  Mimi nodded her head knowingly. “I see. An easy target.” Why wasn’t she surprised at his shrewd calculations. She watched her father wipe his hands. “You certainly didn’t miss, that’s for sure.”

  Conrad balled up the paper towel and tossed it into a trash bin. “On a more personal matter, I hope you will one day understand that I instigated your participation on this panel in an effort to help you.”

  “Father, can we just drop that discussion for now?”

  “I’m sorry, but no. And I am your father, so you will listen to me.”

  Mimi bit her tongue.

  “Mimi, your ordeal in Chechnya was horrific. And I am not belittling its severity. But it only sped up the detachment you have from the world, your inability to reach out. It had been my impression twelve years ago that there was something about Vic Golinski that awakened a passion in you. I’m just saying, consider my motive.”

  Mimi breathed in deeply. “Leaving aside whatever you saw and didn’t see between Vic and me. I can’t believe you’re professing a sense of true love and devotion. If you really believed in those virtues, you wouldn’t have cheated on my mother. You knew she wouldn’t be able to deal with it.”

  “Your mother couldn’t deal with many things. My infidelities were the least among them.”

  “Yes, she had problems. But that doesn’t justify your infidelity. Besides, what about Press’s mother, Adele?”

  Conrad opened his mouth.

  But Mimi held up her hand. “No, don’t bother. You don’t need to give any explanations when it comes to that cow. If I’d been married to her, I’d have cheated on her, too—though I hope you know what effect it’s had on your son.”

  “That last remark is for Press and me to deal with—when the time comes.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Mimi mumbled.

  Conrad ignored her comment. “As for my supposed serial unfaithfulness—I’ll have you know that I’ve never cheated on Noreen, nor would I ever. You may not believe me, but I loved your mother—in a fashion. But Noreen?” He paused. “She’s the love of my life. I would do anything for her.”

  Mimi opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Now I get it. This whole asking me to participate on the panel? Your version of shock therapy? Admit it, Father, you didn’t do it for me. You did it for you. For you to show Noreen how much you love her. It was probably at her prodding that you did it. She was the one, after all, who was pushing me to see a psychiatrist, not you.”

  He gave her an unblinking stare. “Think what you like. You’ve made your opinion clear on numerous occasions. But while you’re heaping your scorn on me, consider this. Do you want to end up like me? At my age? Afraid of losing the only thing in the end that matters—people’s love and loving them back? Or will you even fail to achieve that kind of fear?”

  “How can you even talk about you and me in the same breath? I would never turn my back on my family the way you’ve done your whole life.”

  “Are you so sure? Do you send us Christmas and birthday cards? Make sure you or your brother is there for the rest of the family if anything goes wrong?”

  “Excuse me. Who held down the fort when you were whisked to the hospital with a panic attack? Press and I?”

  “Would you have been there if I hadn’t prodded you to come to Reunions in the first place? And do you think your brother has the kind of deep pockets or spontaneous inclination to be in Grantham at the same time as his sister? It’s not as if I can count on either one of you. These things don’t happen unless I arrange it or foot the bill. Is that the kind of love you want?”

  Mimi shook her head in disbelief. No, not in disbelief—in her own stupidity. Her father—her selfish, self-centered father—was all of that. But he was also a sad and disillusioned man. Yes, he’d been a CEO of a financial powerhouse. But that was gone. And what was he left with? A fractured relationship with his older children, the demands of a young one and the fear that his much younger wife, whom he adored, would pick up and leave him.

  No, she didn’t want to end up like that. And for the first time, Mimi looked at her father—not as a daughter but as an adult. For once, she didn’t feel contempt. She felt sadness, a deep sorrow for a lost soul.

  * * *

  NOREEN WAS WAITING OUTSIDE when she saw Mimi run out the side door. A few minutes later, Conrad emerged. She waved and called out to him.

  He acknowledged her with a nod of the head, but took a few minutes to chat with some of the audience members who’d lingered. From where she stood, they seemed to be offering support. Conrad shook hands goodbye, there were a few slaps on the back and chuckles, and then he crossed the slate walkway to where she stood by the side of the university chapel.

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then stared upward at the pointed stained-glass windows. “It was much nicer weather the day we were married here all those years ago.” He pressed his fingers around the sleeve of her tight black suit jacket. She wore a large lion pin with a winking emerald eye on the lapel. He had given it to her for her birthday last year.

  “I think the audience got their money’s worth,” he joked.

  “I’m proud of the way you defended her. What an eedjit, that man was.” She gave an Irish emphasis to “idiot.”

  “On that we can all agree.” Conrad smiled. “Mimi even thanked me.”

  “Did you talk to her, then?”

  “Yes.” He looked away.

  Noreen used her hand to turn his head toward her. She rested her French nails on his cheek. “Conrad, don’t make this any harder. What did she say?”

  He pursed his lips. “I think we came to some kind of resolution. But along the way, she said something that struck a chord. She accused me of having done it—the whole panel thing—without her best interests at heart. She said I did it to please you.”

  “But that’s not true.”

  “Are you so sure?” Conrad inhaled deeply. “Be honest. Are you planning on leaving me? I thought this might happen when I told you about being let go.”

  Noreen blinked slowly. “Whatever gave you that idea? When I made the appointment for us to see the counselor, it was to help us deal with all the changes going on. I know how much your career means to you.”

  “Yes, it’s important to me. I’m still in shock. But it doesn’t mean as much to me as you. And of course, Brigid. The others—Mimi, Press—that’s still very much a work in progress. I can’t claim to be much of a father to them—but I’m trying—with your guidance. Because I truly love you.” He said the last sentence with extra pauses between each word.

  “Yes, you definitely are a work in progress. But you pay dividends.” Noreen smiled tentatively. “Speaking of dividends, I have some news of my own.”

  “You’ll be traveling more for work? That’s all right. I have the time now, not that I intend to retire. I’m already trying to formulate some other plans, put out feelers.”

  She could see he was attempting to nurture his own ego as much as reassure hers. He wasn’t perfect, but then who was? “No, if anything my traveling will probably be curtailed in the future. You see—I’m pregnant. We’re going to have another child.”

  Conrad looked at her wide-eyed. “A baby?” He grabbed both her upper arms.

  Noreen nodded. “That should make you feel young.”

  He breathed in deeply. “Truthfully?” He looked away.

  For a second, she feared he was going to run.

  But
he looked back, a grin spreading across his face. “It scares me to death. But then what doesn’t these days?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  HE FOUND HER IN THE women’s locker room at Delaney Pool. “I need to talk to you,” he said as he came up next to her.

  Mimi turned by her open locker and put a hand to her chest. Goggles swung from her hand. She already had on her racing suit. “Geez, Vic. You scared the life out of me. I thought I was the only one here. You’re not supposed to be here. This is the women’s locker room.”

  Vic glanced around. “Like you said. There’s nobody else here.”

  She banged her locker door shut without turning away from him. It didn’t close all the way because the sleeve of her Reunions jacket was caught in the edge. “How did you know where to find me?”

  He shrugged. He still had on his blazer and button-down shirt, though he’d loosened his tie. “It was either here or Hoagie Palace, and I figured you could probably clear your mind better in the water.”

  She shook her head. “So you found me.”

  They stood in silence. The only sound was their breathing, with the smells of chlorine and wet towels permeating the enclosed space.

  “I should have come clean right away, okay? About your father calling me and bringing up the whole building contract,” Vic finally admitted. “I took the coward’s way out. I’m not proud of it, but it’s what I did. But I promise you, it had nothing to do with what happened between us. Do you believe me?”

  “I don’t know what I believe right now.” She looked around the locker room. “Maybe it’s this place—not here, but Grantham. There’s something about it that always seems to rub me the wrong way—like the stupid guy on the panel.”

  “He’s an ass. Everybody thought so, even your father.”

  Mimi shook her head. “My father…my father…who he is—it’s all too confusing. I’d really prefer to leave him out of the whole discussion, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind. He’s your father. You just can’t exorcise him from your being. You have to deal with who he is and move on.”

  “I can’t. I’m too screwed up. Don’t you get it?” Mimi picked up a towel and draped it over her arm. She turned back to her locker, closed it properly and locked it. She started to move.

  Vic shot out his arm to block her. “Not so fast. That’s too easy an excuse. C’mon. You survived an ordeal that would break most people. Don’t wimp out now. Why can’t you get over your father?”

  “I just can’t.” She stepped forward.

  He refused to budge. “Why not?” This time he got right into her face.

  “Because…because…” She snapped her head to the side to avoid his gaze. “Because no matter how pitiable or lonely he might be, I can’t stop blaming him for my mother’s death.” She paused. “And because I can’t stop blaming myself for her death, too.”

  Then she peered in his eyes. “Don’t you get it? I want my mother back, all happy and healthy and there to love me.”

  Vic let his arm fall to the side. “But that’s not going to happen, is it? No matter how hard you push back. Listen, I can’t forgive myself for my brother’s death, either. And I wish he were alive and here to love me, as well. But he’s not. So that makes two of us in the same boat. That doesn’t mean we can’t go on, Mimi. I mean, we’re the ones who are alive. Don’t we deserve a chance to be happy, to love and be loved?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.” She sniffed loudly. “I told you I was screwed up. You’re better off staying far, far away.”

  “So now you’re an expert on what’s good for me, too?” He bent down to be at the same eye level.

  She shook her head briskly.

  “Tell me the real reason you don’t want to see me anymore. And don’t give me that crap that you can’t trust me. I’ve explained what happened. I made a mistake, but it’s not as if you gave me a lot of chance to explain, either.”

  She looked down at her towel.

  He crouched down more. “Tell me the truth. You owe it to me.”

  Mimi snapped her head up. “I owe you nothing.”

  “Oh, I think you do. I didn’t open up to you because I wanted a shoulder to cry on. I didn’t go out of my way to comfort you because it gave me a cheap thrill. And let me tell you. If I wanted an easy lay, there are lots of easier ways to get that. So, why? Why won’t you see me?”

  “Because I love you. I love you and I can’t deal with it,” she practically shouted.

  “Well, I love you, too. Shouldn’t that make things easier, not harder?” He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving.

  She stared at him, her eyes large with wonder. She didn’t say anything—just searched his face.

  He waited. He hoped.

  “I gotta go,” she said finally. “I need to get in the water. Like you said, clear my head.” She hesitated. “By the way, you were great today—at the panel discussion.”

  “So, sometimes I do the right thing.”

  She walked past him, and Vic stood there, watching her go. It was her choice to make. He had done all he could, almost gotten down on his knees to apologize, admitted his feelings.

  She reached for the heavy swinging door and pulled it toward her. But just as she was about to step through, she stopped. Looked back.

  Vic felt a glimmer of hope. He raised his eyebrows.

  Mimi pressed her lips together. Then she lifted her chin. “And when you see Roxie, tell her I’ll miss her.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ON MONDAY, PRESS finished packing his laptop into his knapsack and zipped the whole thing up. The carry-on weighed a ton with all the books he had. But he was already worried that his roll-on suitcase was overweight, and he didn’t want to get caught having to pay a hefty fine, or worse-case scenario, having to unpack it at the gate and throw away some of his possessions.

  He picked up his phone and glanced at the bed. Noreen had offered to drive him to the airport, and they had better get a move on, especially with the afternoon rush hour traffic.

  He looked around the familiar yet somehow distant bedroom. A few things—the Yankees posters, the needlepoint pillows from Noreen, the banner from his sleep-away camp in Maine had changed over the years. But they seemed like remnants from another era, almost another person.

  Maybe they were merely false mementoes. Maybe things had never really been that innocent or that simple. Or maybe the memories were no longer fresh enough to conjure up the truth instead of an overly romanticized nostalgia.

  “Yeah, well, that’s life,” he grumbled to himself. For the umpteenth time, he unzipped the front section of his knapsack and checked that he had his passport and his flight information. Then he reached for his wallet in his back jeans pocket.

  He still had some Australian money for the bus into town when he arrived at Melbourne Airport. And he also had a wad of U.S. dollars that hadn’t been there before this morning. Mimi had handed it to him as a going-away present when saying goodbye at Grantham Junction.

  “Take it.” She pushed it toward him when he’d tried to refuse. “I know you could use it. And use it for something fun—a trip, a night out on the town, something you wouldn’t normally do. But whatever you do, don’t think of it as a bribe.”

  And then she’d hugged him really hard before she’d made a mad dash for the train. But not before Press had seen tears in her eyes.

  I guess her Reunions weren’t all they were cracked up to be, either, Press thought.

  There was a knock on his door, and Noreen stuck her head in. “There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.” She glanced down at her watch. “We still have time. Why don’t we meet downstairs to go in, say, ten minutes?”

  Press nodded. He figured Matt had come to say goodbye.

  Noreen opened the door wider, then stepped away.

  It wasn’t Matt. It was Amara.

  She hesitated before crossing the threshold, looking around at the boy paraphernalia that filled
the space. “You had the Playmobil pirate ship! I always wanted that, but my mother couldn’t afford it.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the giant, elaborate model, complete with a dozen or so action figures. “You can have mine now, if you want it. Though I think most of the swords are missing.”

  “Aw. You don’t leave me with any of the fun.” She laughed.

  Press didn’t want to be talking about toys, especially not with Amara. “Listen.” He stalled, not really knowing what he wanted to say but knowing he had to say something.

  She walked closer. “I’m listening.”

  That didn’t make it easier. “You want to sit down?”

  “Not really.”

  He rubbed his forehead.

  “Press?”

  He looked up.

  “I couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye in person,” she said. “A text wouldn’t do.”

  “You’re right. Thanks for coming.” He swallowed. “There’s not a lot of time, but what I wanted to say is this.” He looked her straight in the eye. “You’re still in school, and I’m halfway around the world. But would you…what I mean to say is…I won’t forget you, and I hope you don’t forget me.”

  “Of course I won’t forget you.” Amara wrapped her arms around Press’s shoulders and gave him a hug like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  He tried not to read anything into the gesture beyond friendship—but that was a big ask.

  She pulled away and returned his stare. “Don’t you get it? You and I are joined at the hip. You’ll always be a part of me.”

  “But what about Matt?”

  “What about Matt?”

  Press opened his mouth, but then he shook his head. “Nothing. Just remember, if ever you need help—whatever—I’m there for you. No matter how far I’m away.”

  She nodded. “Same here.”

  And they stood like that for an awkward moment or two until Press said, “I better get going, then. My flight…”

  “Yeah, I know. Can I help you carry anything?” She looked at his bags on the bed.