Save the Date

by Morgan Matson

  “You know, you never asked us if we wanted our lives broadcast every morning to America,” Mike said, looking at our mom. “You just went ahead and did it and we never talked about whether it was a good thing—”

  “So you decided to humiliate her—all of us?” J.J. asked, jumping into the fray, his arms folded across his chest.

  “I’d had enough!” Mike yelled. “Our stories never got to be our own. I told her not to put it in and she did it anyway, and I was just done! I was done with all of it.”

  “Why didn’t you say something then?” J.J. asked. “Instead, you just stayed away like a coward.”

  I heard Linnie draw in a sharp breath, and Danny leaned forward. “Okay, guys,” he said, looking from J.J. to Mike, then back to me. “I think we should just take a second—”

  “That’s really nice, J.J.” Mike said, shaking his head. “Nice for you to tell me now how you felt about it.”

  “I would have told you then,” J.J. snapped, “but you weren’t here to tell, were you?”

  “I haven’t been here because I can’t do this!” Mike yelled, standing up. “She wants us to be this perfect unit, whether that’s who we are or not. She doesn’t care! She sold us to America like we’re this amazing family everyone wants to be a part of.”

  “But we are!” I yelled, standing up myself now. I saw Linnie and Rodney look at each other apprehensively, but I barreled on anyway. “I love being a Grant and I know how lucky I am. I’m sick of this—sick of begging you to participate in a family anyone else would kill to be a part of. And I’ll always love the strip.”

  “Yeah, well, the strip is over,” Mike said, and across the room, I saw my mom flinch. “And the house is sold. So not so wonderful, after all, is it?”

  “Well,” I said, feeling myself flounder a little. “Yeah, but . . .”

  Mike shook his head, rolling his eyes at me. “You’re living in a fantasy,” he spat. “You’re living in a fucking newspaper comic.”

  “No, I’m not.” I was yelling now, feeling tears building up somewhere behind my eyes. “Things are good here. You just haven’t been around to see it.” I sat down, feeling like I’d gotten a good last word in and wanting to punctuate this with something. I glanced over at Danny, to try and see his reaction, but he seemed to be having some kind of silent conversation with my parents, loaded looks flying between them, my mother shaking her head.

  “I think . . . ,” Danny started, then let out a long breath. “Is it time?”

  “Sheridan,” my mother said, her voice low and serious, warning, and I was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Let’s not do this now,” my dad said, an equally serious note in his voice as he stared hard at Danny. “Okay?”

  “What’s going on?” Linnie asked. “Don’t do what now?”

  “I have no idea,” J.J. said, and from Rodney’s expression, it seemed like he didn’t know either.

  “It’s not the time,” my mom said, starting to gather up plates, finality in her tone, like she’d just put a period at the end of a sentence.

  “Whatever it is, just tell us,” Mike said, sounding disgusted. “Can we please just tell the truth in this family, for once?” My parents exchanged a loaded look. I turned to Danny, ready for him to give me a smile, letting me know there was really nothing to worry about—but he was bent forward over his knees, clenching his hands together.

  “Mom?” I asked.

  “What’s going on?” J.J. asked, all his bravado gone, looking somehow younger than he had in years.

  “Come on—what’s happening here?” Linnie asked, a nervous note in her voice. “Are you—is someone sick?”

  “No,” my dad said immediately, and my mother shook her head. “God no, nothing like that.”

  “I’m fine,” my mother said emphatically. “Your father’s fine.”

  “Someone needs to tell us what’s going on!” J.J. yelled, his voice cracking on the last word.

  “They’re getting a divorce,” Danny said, still hunched over his hands, his voice tired. “That’s what’s going on.”

  There was silence in the room, a silence that felt heavy, like it was taking up all the air—you couldn’t even hear anyone breathe.

  I looked between my mom and dad, feeling my breath caught somewhere in my chest, repeating the words no please no over and over in my head like a prayer or a mantra, something you say to keep the bad things at bay. Maybe I had heard wrong. Maybe I’d misunderstood. Maybe Danny had misunderstood because this wasn’t—this couldn’t—

  “We,” my dad said, glancing over at my mom, who was staring down at the carpet, her bottom lip trembling. “This wasn’t how we wanted to do this. . . .”

  Even though I was sitting down, I suddenly understood why people who get bad news in movies are always collapsing to the ground. I knew somehow that if I’d tried to stand up right then, my legs would not have held me. Nor, it seemed, should they—my parents had just pulled my world out from under my feet.

  “It’s not that we won’t always be a family,” my mother said, speaking fast, like she was just trying to get this over with. “That won’t ever change. We’re going to take some time, try a separation. . . .”

  “And our priority will always be the happiness of you kids,” my dad said now, leaning toward us. Now they were speaking more quickly, and I had a feeling they’d rehearsed this—suddenly, they were actors in a play who’d finally gotten to a section of the lines they knew cold. “And it has nothing to do with any of you. It’s just . . .” He made a vague gesture with his hands, spreading them outward for a second, like that would help us see why a thirty-five-year marriage was ending. “One of those things,” he finished.

  “Why did they tell you?” J.J. was staring at Danny, all his confidence and flash gone, which was as heartbreaking as anything that was happening here. It was like seeing my brother without his protective armor, so much smaller and so much more easily hurt.

  “I’m only a year younger than Danny,” Linnie said, shaking her head. “And you didn’t think I could handle it?”

  “Is that really important right now?” Danny asked, shaking his head. “Who knew what?”

  “It’s important to me,” J.J. said, glaring at Danny.

  “I handle their finances,” Danny said. He sounded exhausted, like he had no more fight left in him. “They needed me to start dividing up assets so that this process could go more smoothly.”

  “So you’re not just ‘separating,’ ” J.J. said, putting half-hearted air quotes around the word. “You guys are getting a divorce. It’s been decided.”

  My parents glanced at each other and then away. Neither spoke, which seemed to be all the confirmation we needed. I turned to my siblings, who all, with the exception of Danny, looked as shell-shocked by this as I was.

  “This is why,” I said, and I could hear my voice coming out scratchy, like it had been a long time since I’d spoken. It had been another lifetime ago. I took a breath and tried again. “This is why you’re selling the house.” As soon as I’d said it, another, bigger realization hit me. “This is why you’re ending the strip.”

  “Of course she’s ending it now,” Mike said, shaking his head at me. “You can’t write about the perfect family when you’re in the process of breaking it up.”

  “Like you’re even one to talk,” I said, louder than I knew I was going to, the words coming out of my mouth before I could think them through. “I don’t think you can even have an opinion on this when you haven’t been home for eighteen months.”

  “Charlie,” Danny said, his voice warning, which only caused me to get madder.

  “You don’t have a say in this family,” I said, ignoring Danny and turning to face Mike more fully, “when you’ve done all you can for the last year and a half not to be part of it.”

  “So I don’t even get an opinion?”

  “I don’t think you do,” I shot back. “And maybe if you’d been here, ma
ybe if we’d been able to have a real Thanksgiving or Christmas—”

  “Oh, so this is my fault now?” Mike asked, two red splotches starting to appear on his cheeks. “I’m the reason they’re getting divorced?”

  “Of course not,” my dad said loudly, clearly trying to stop this. I could tell this wasn’t the way he’d expected it to go. “Don’t be silly—”

  “So, what’s going to happen?” I interrupted. I looked at my mom, trying to understand how this could be the same person who, just minutes ago, was getting a second piece of cake and winking at me. How could she have done that when she knew this all along? “You guys are going to sell the house and then—you get two separate places and we split our time?”

  “Well,” my dad said after a pause in which it became clear my mother wasn’t going to jump in, “yes. We have things to sort out, of course. But you’ll be headed to college in the fall, so lots of things will be changing regardless.”

  I felt my stomach clench again. I was having that terrible feeling you have when you know you were right about something but didn’t want to be. I thought about all those fights my parents had been having, those months where there had been anger and slammed doors and unsaid things. Even today, with the daybed in my parents’ room—I hadn’t wanted to see it. I’d just pretended none of it was happening, hoping it would go away on its own. This suddenly seemed like the height of stupidity and childishness.

  But was I supposed to stay here in Stanwich, go to school here when I no longer had a home here? When my family wasn’t here, together, like they were supposed to be?

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head, my words coming out with a harsh laugh. “Right. No wonder you didn’t want me to stay in Stanwich—you knew that everything here was going to change.”

  “That’s not why—” my mother started, but I was already talking over her.

  “But you know what? You know what you all had during college?” I looked around at my siblings. “You all had a home to come back to! You all got to come here, with your bedroom and your stuff on the walls and all of us here waiting for you. What am I going to have? What’s that going to look like for me? You guys all have your own places, your own lives. But I’m not going to have that. I’m not going to have anywhere to go. I’m not going to have a home.” My voice broke on the last word, and I put my head in my hands—my face felt hot, and there were tears building up behind my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

  “And you,” I said, straightening up, brushing a hand over my face and glaring at Mike, my eyes blurry with tears, “you could have been back here for two years, and you blew it. I bet you’re happy, aren’t you? You’ve wanted to be out of this family forever, and now you finally get your wish.”

  “I’m not,” Mike said, and I could see that his eyes looked shiny, “happy, Charlie. Of course I’m not, and fuck you for saying that.”

  “Language,” my parents both said, in unison, then looked at each other, like they weren’t sure if they should laugh or cry.

  Linnie’s shoulders were shaking, and Rodney was sitting close to her and rubbing her back. J.J.’s face was very red, and he was blinking hard.

  “Guys,” my dad said, finally breaking the silence, running his hand across his eyes. He sounded exhausted, and suddenly looked about five years older. “I think we should all get some sleep and maybe in the morning—”

  “In the morning, when we’re going to be filmed as the perfect family?” J.J. asked , his voice flat. “You know, for national television?”

  Linnie let out a short laugh—the kind without any humor in it.

  “This will all be for the best,” my dad said, his voice quiet. “In the long run.”

  We just sat there for a moment, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was what people who’ve just been in an earthquake or a tornado felt. When you’re standing among the rubble and wreckage of what just moments earlier had been your life, wondering how you got there and what happened now that everything was destroyed.

  “I’m going to bed,” my mother finally said, pushing herself to her feet. “We have a big day tomorrow. Good Morning America’s here at eight, so . . .” Her voice trailed off, and I wondered if what she’d just said had sounded as hollow to her as it had to me. She left the room, and my dad got up a moment later, picking up his tux jacket and folding it over his arm.

  “Good night,” he said, his voice tired, and this was somehow made all the worse by the fact that he was still in his tux, like a reminder of the fact that only an hour ago, we’d all been dancing. “I just wanted . . .” But his voice trailed off, and what he wanted was left unsaid. He let out a breath, then turned around and left the room, his step heavy on the carpet.

  The room was silent for a moment, and I looked around at my siblings, wondering how the family room, which had always been one of the best and most peaceful places in the house, had suddenly been turned into a war zone.

  “We should go too,” Linnie said, and Rodney nodded and held out a hand to her, helping her to her feet. She was still wearing her white dress and Rodney was in his dad’s suit, and I suddenly felt that much worse about everything. This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives, and this was how it ended? This was what we were sending them off to the honeymoon suite with?

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Rodney said, his normally cheerful voice not even trying to be upbeat. His arm was still wrapped around my sister’s shoulders, like he was helping to keep her walking upright. “Night.”

  We all watched them leave in silence, nobody saying good night back to them—and I wondered if none of my brothers had because they felt, like me, that it would be a complete lie, since this had not been, and would never be, a good night.

  “You okay, Chuck?” Danny asked, leaning toward me. I just shook my head. It was like okay was on another planet entirely.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” I said, only feeling this betrayal hit me now. How could he—how could Danny—have kept this from me?

  “They didn’t want me to,” he said, shaking his head. “If it had been up to me, I would have, Chuck. You know that.”

  “How could you not have known?” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “Mike,” Danny said, his voice sharper now, a warning.

  “I mean, come on.” There was a cruel laugh somewhere in his words. “You live here. You’re the only one who does! And you had no idea?” He shook his head. “You’re so blinded by your Grant worship, always holding this family up like it’s something special—”

  “It is!” I yelled, my voice breaking, another tear hitting my cheek.

  “Weren’t you listening?” Mike yelled back at me, his own voice cracking now. “There is no more Grant family! It’s over!”

  I shook my head, but I couldn’t make myself say anything. I brushed my hand across my face, wiping away the tears that seemed just to be falling of their own accord now.

  “Come on,” Danny said, pushing himself up to standing. “I need—I can’t be in this house anymore. Let’s go. Let’s all go.”

  “Go where?” J.J. asked even as he stood as well.

  Danny just shrugged, with a restlessness I recognized. It was the look he’d had when we’d gone for milkshakes when I was nine and ended up at the Canadian border. We would have made it all the way to Montreal, too, if only we’d had our passports with us. “Out,” he said with a shrug. He started toward the door, then looked back at me. “Chuck?”

  I shook my head. It didn’t make sense, but it felt like if I left, if I went outside, this would become real. But if I didn’t move from this spot—the same place I’d been sitting before the world had ended—maybe this would turn out to be just a very realistic dream, one I could still wake up from.

  “I’ll come,” Mike said, surprising me, as he joined Danny in the doorway. “I need to get out of here too.”

  Danny gave me a look from the doorway, and I knew he was trying to see if I was okay. And
normally I would have tried, for his sake, to give him a smile, so that he wouldn’t worry. But I couldn’t seem to manage it right now, and after a moment, Danny turned and left the room, Mike following behind him.

  J.J. headed for the door as well, then paused in the doorway and turned back at me. “It’ll be all right,” he finally said, in a voice that had no conviction in it whatsoever.

  “Do you really believe that?” I didn’t—but I had no idea what our lives looked like if we weren’t all in this house together, if we weren’t a family, the seven of us. It was like I couldn’t even get myself to imagine it.

  “It’s what you’re supposed to say,” J.J. said in a quiet voice after a pause. He stayed there for another moment, then headed out as well. A second later, I heard the kitchen door slam shut, and the sound of a car starting.

  I sat alone in the family room, trying not to remember how not that long ago, it had been filled with people eating cake. All this time, I’d been dreaming about everyone coming back—thinking that it meant things were finally going back to how they’d been, not knowing it was the beginning of the end. We’d been on borrowed time, and I hadn’t even realized it. An unseen clock had been ticking down, down, down—counting out the time left when the seven of us would be together in the same family, not broken up into pieces. I’d had no idea that we—the Grant family, one family together—had already ended.

  I thought about going upstairs, but then remembered, yet again, that Brooke was in there. But I knew that I couldn’t stay here—in the room where everything had fallen apart.

  Now that they had gone, now that it was too late, I suddenly wished I’d left with my brothers. I understood Danny’s impetus to get out, to do something to put all this behind me. I wanted something to go my way tonight, just one thing to work out the way I wanted it to.

  Before I even knew I’d made a decision, I was grabbing my bag from where I’d put it beside the couch and pulling up my text chain with Jesse.

  Me

  Hey—things wrapped up here.

  Can I still come over?