I pull in the driveway at quarter after and jog up the front walk, opening the handle to the door and pushing through the threshold.
“Mama!” Haley runs at me full force, her smile as bright as the sun, and I squat to catch her in my arms.
“Hey, baby. How was your day?”
“Good! Miss Melinda had us make our own turkeys for crafts today. Lookit! Mine has all kinds of colored feathers and one of those gobbley things.”
I laugh at her description. “I love it! We’ll have to put him on the fridge when we get home. Why don’t you go grab your coat so we can go.”
She spins and runs off without a second glance, and I stand to my full height and see Melinda leaning against the wall next to the door Haley just disappeared behind. “Hi, Tessa.”
“Hey. I’m sorry I’m late again, but I ran behind with a client.”
“Tessa . . .” And from the look on her face and the soft tone of her words, I know what’s coming. “You know how much I love Haley, and I realize what an adjustment period this has been since your brother moved away. These last few months can’t have been easy for you. But I have a family, too, and six o’clock is the start of their time.”
“I know. God, I’m so sorry, Melinda.” I glance to the door Haley is hidden behind and lower my voice so she doesn’t overhear. “It’s taking me longer to get into the swing of things than I thought it would since Cade left. I can’t apologize enough.”
“I know you don’t do it on purpose, honey, but the fact remains that it keeps happening. I think I’ve been more than understanding, considering how long it’s been. I wanted to give you some leeway since Cade helped so much with pick-ups. I haven’t implemented the tardy fees, but going forward, I’m going to have to.”
I nod my head, my lips pressed in a thin line. It’s not the fees—while they’re exorbitant to dissuade parents from being late, I could swing it if I needed to—it’s the fact that she even has to have this conversation with me. I feel like a kid in the principal’s office, and whether or not I’m barely twenty-two, I haven’t been a child in a long, long time.
“I understand.”
She pauses and shifts her weight from foot to foot. “I hate to even suggest this, but maybe you can find something closer to your work? Make it a bit easier to get there before closing? I could give you some referrals . . .”
I’m shaking my head before she can even finish, knowing I will do anything—anything—to keep Haley here. It’s the only daycare she’s been in since she started going when she was only a baby. And after all the upheaval—her uncle leaving in the summer, and then starting pre-K this year—I don’t want to force any other changes on her.
“I’m not going to do that. I’ll make it work.”
Just then, Haley comes running out of the walk-in coat closet where all the kids’ cubbies and coat hooks are, her long, dark hair flying behind her, her eyes sparkling as she smiles. She’s . . . remarkable. The best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, and ever since Cade left, ever since I’ve been truly on my own, I feel like I’m failing her.
I always thought I had a good grip on the majority of things in her life, shouldered the bulk of it, but since my brother moved away, I’ve become blatantly aware of exactly how much he was helping, how much slack he was picking up. It sent me into a tailspin.
And I’m still trying to find my way out.
jason
It’s nights like these that make me want to shoot myself in the face.
Smells from the kitchen waft into the formal dining room where my mother, father, and I sit, our conversation stilted as it is every Tuesday evening. The clank of silverware on dishes is the only sound in this too-big room, filled with knickknacks you can’t touch, paintings that cost more than some people make in a year, and furniture you feel like you shouldn’t even sit on. My childhood home. If you can call a museum a home.
As if my mother has a bell under the table signaling when we’re finished with the first course, the maid comes sweeping into the room to clear our soup bowls, only to return moments later with salad plates. I hate Tuesday nights. Having to come back here and listen to the two people who view me as merely a means to an end . . . well, I think I’d rather get kicked in the balls repeatedly than be forced to suffer through this week after week.
Alas, they pay the bills . . .
“I saw Sheila at the club yesterday,” my mother says, her voice dripping with disdain.
Dad hums, briefly looking up from the Wall Street Journal spread out in front of him. Bastard can’t even spare twenty minutes without his attention focused elsewhere. No wonder my mom had a fling with the gardener.
My father doesn’t say anything, but Mom takes it as a cue to continue. “It’s obvious she got Botox. And, if I’m not mistaken, she got those saline lip injections, too. Honestly, if you’re going to have work done, at least be a little more discreet about it. She could—”
And just like that, I zone out, filling my mind with a hundred different things, just so I can get through the next half hour with my sanity intact.
It’s not until the main dish is in front of me—duck confit, I’m told—that I register my father clearing his throat, the room otherwise silent. I glance up, finding both my parents staring at me.
“What?”
My mom tsks, shaking her head. “Hardly the way to speak to your parents, Jason.”
I roll my eyes, because they’ve been a lot of things to me in my twenty-four years, but parents haven’t been one of them.
“Your mother’s right. You’d think you’ve forgotten just who pays your bills.”
“Oh, believe me, I haven’t forgotten. How can I when you remind me every week?”
My father’s eyes don’t leave mine as he takes a sip of his bourbon before placing the glass back on the table. That stare has been known to make both men and women weep. Having been on the receiving end of it more times than I can fathom, I simply stare back.
“I think we’ve been very lenient and understanding about your . . . education.” The way he says it, the way the word almost seems to get stuck in his throat, like he has to spit it out, makes my shoulders tense. He doesn’t believe an art school—despite it being one of the top art schools in the country—could ever provide me with the kind of education I walked away from when I left his alma mater, a well-regarded business school I had absolutely no desire to attend. Unaware, or just uncaring, of my stiffened posture, he continues, “We allowed you to take a year off after high school to do God knows what while living off our money. And since that little break, we’ve given you five years to complete your degree, which is laughable, quite frankly, especially for someone who ranked in the top five percent of their graduating class. We’ve allowed you to switch schools from a prominent and distinguished university to something . . . better suited to your tastes. And in doing so, we’ve been on the receiving end of judgmental whispers at the club.”
“Oh, Jesus. Not the club. How ever did you survive?”
“Jason Daniel, that’s enough,” my mother snaps.
As if I never spoke, my father continues, “We’re done, Jason. You’ve screwed around long enough.”
I wait for a moment for him to say something more, to clue me in on what he’s threatening this time. We’ve been here before, too many times to count, and I’m not in the mood to play games. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me, Dad, because I’m not sure what, exactly, you mean.”
“What I mean is we will allow you this semester. I had our lawyer check your records at school, and you have more than enough credits to graduate, if you’d just select a program.” He sits back, dropping his napkin on the table before he folds his hands over his stomach. He’s like an older version of me—dark hair with only a hint of gray at the temples, dark eyes that can turn cold in an instant, and enough height to feel prominent when walking into a room. I can only hope our similarities end at our appearance.
I try to see him through
the eyes of someone else, someone who might look up to him, might even fear him, but no matter what I do, he’s still the same guy I’ve known my whole life. The same guy who’s paid more attention to the newspaper or his phone or his computer than he did to his only son. The same guy who was always too busy to attend even one of his son’s little league games. The same guy who pushed for only the best out of his child—not for his child’s happiness, but for how it would be perceived by others.
When he’s sure I’m not going to say anything, he puts it bluntly, “Tuition will be paid through this quarter. Your allowance for rent and necessities will continue to be deposited into your account for one month succeeding that, during which time I expect you to be working beside me at Montgomery Financial, learning the ropes. You’ll be added to the payroll so that once your allowance ceases, there won’t be any lapse. I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to retire sometime in the next decade. God knows it’ll take that long just for you to figure out what the hell you’re doing and not fuck everything up.”
“Lawrence . . .”
With a careless hand, my father waves off my mother’s rebuke, not sparing her a glance. “Two months, Jason. Not a day longer. I’m tired of waiting for you to come around and stop this bullshit of playing computer games or whatever the hell it is they have you do at that arts and crafts school. It’s time you stopped acting like a spoiled child and stepped up to take your place at the company.”
TWO
jason
I stalk out the front door of my parents’ house, letting it slam shut behind me, muttering every swear word I can think of as I head straight to my car. Really, their ultimatum doesn’t come as a shock. In fact, I’m surprised it’s taken them this long to institute some sort of deadline. After all, it doesn’t look good in their circles to have a twenty-four-year-old son still in college—not unless he’s getting his MBA or doctorate.
I’m getting neither.
While I know I’ve got it good—parents paying for my degree, as well as all my bills—it’s not what I want. Growing up, I’d have given anything to be part of either of my best friends’ families. Both Cade’s and Adam’s parents made it a point to be involved in the lives of their kids. Made it a point to talk about more than getting straight A’s, college-prep courses, what the stock of the company was doing. I can’t even remember the last time either one of my parents asked me a question that actually gave them insight into my life. Or asked a question and waited for an honest reply.
I peel out of my parents’ long, circular drive, uncaring of the tire marks I no doubt left, and I don’t even realize where I’m heading until I see the familiar streets. For as long as I can remember, this place has always felt like home, much more than mine ever did. It’s different now that Cade’s gone, but this sense of peace still settles over me whenever I walk through the door.
It’s not too late—the clock on my dash showing just before eight—and I hope I’m early enough to catch Haley before she goes to bed. If anyone can make me smile, it’s that little girl. While it’s a bit jarring to realize just how much I’ve grown attached to her in the months since Cade left, I can’t argue with the truth.
Tessa’s car is out front, and I head for the back door, twisting the knob like always, only to find it’s locked. Since Cade’s been gone, she’s been more diligent about locking up—something her brother probably beat into her head before he went. I knock softly in case Haley is sleeping, but after a few minutes with no answer, I dig out my keys, using the spare I’ve had for years to let myself in.
The scent of fried foods greets me, and a glance in the kitchen shows leftover chicken nuggets and a few fries on a small princess plate. Definitely a change of pace from the days Cade was living here. He’d have a coronary if he knew what Tess has been feeding his niece.
I walk through the dark hallway to get to the living room, stopping short at what I see. Haley’s in front of the TV, markers spread out around her as she draws some pictures. When she turns around to look at me, I jolt in surprise at the state of her face, but don’t have time to say anything before she rushes me.
“Jay!” She hops up from the floor and runs at me full force. I catch her and scoop her into my arms, careful to not get whatever the hell she has all over her face on my clothes.
“Hey, shorty. What’s, uh, what’s all this?” I ask, gesturing to her eyelids and cheeks and lips painted in too many colors to count.
Instead of answering, she looks down, avoiding my eyes.
“Haley . . .”
She leans in and whispers in my ear, “I found Mama’s makeup.”
Oh, shit. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the many years I’ve known Tessa, it’s that her makeup and whatever hair product shit she brings home are off-limits. And anyone who touches them is taking their lives into their own hands. She’s been like that since she was a teenager, and it’s only gotten worse since she went to cosmetology school. Haley clearly did this without permission.
“Okay,” I say calmly. “And where is your mom?”
She twists in my arms and points to the couch. I walk over and peer over the back, finding a passed-out Tessa lying there, still in her all-black clothes from the salon, one arm covering her eyes, the other hanging off the side of the couch.
“How long’s your mom been asleep for?”
“Since Doc McStuffins started.” Her eyes well up as she looks at me, her bottom lip quivering. Her voice is shaky as she asks, “You’re not gonna tell her, are ya?”
I probably should. Grown-up solidarity and all that, but I have a soft spot for Haley. And I’m not much for being a grown- up. “Nah, it can be our little secret. Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. It’s late and you have school tomorrow.”
If Tessa fell asleep and managed to stay that way through the blare of some of the most obnoxious cartoons known to man, as well as Haley’s and my conversation, she must be tired. I’ll let her sleep while I get the munchkin ready for bed. I carry Haley down the hall, grabbing a washcloth out of the linen closet before heading into the bathroom. When she’s perched on the counter, I turn on the water to warm it up, then start the daunting task of getting this shit off her face. She looks like a goddamn clown, her cheeks bright pink, her lips covered in red lipstick spread down to her chin, green crap all around her eyes.
I shake my head. “How long did this take you?”
“I dunno.”
“You know you’re not supposed to get into your mom’s stuff, right?”
Head hanging, she pouts. “Yeah.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Just once.”
“I bet you got in trouble, too, didn’t you?”
“Please don’t tell her, Jay.” And this time, the tears roll, fat and plentiful, down her rosy cheeks. One look into those dark brown eyes and I’m a goner. I’d always thought she was a cool kid, but that was about it—a cool kid I saw every once in a while. Ever since Cade left, though, she’s clung to me, and in the process gotten me wrapped around her little finger.
“I won’t, but only if you promise me something.”
“I promise.”
I laugh, wiping at the mess over her eyes. “I haven’t even told you what it is yet.”
“I still promise.”
“Are you sure? Because I was going to make you promise to play Transformers with me every day for a week instead of your tea parties.”
Her mouth drops open, her eyes comically wide.
“Just kidding. But you can’t do this again.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, shorty. Not again.”
“Promise.” She holds out her pinky for me to shake—some girly thing that apparently means it’s serious business—and I hook mine in hers.
“All right. Now, let’s get you changed and then I’ll read a story.”
“Two stories.”
“One, but nice try.”
She looks off to the side, clearly thi
nking about how she can get something extra out of me. “’Kay, one, but with funny voices.”
“Deal.”
• • •
ONCE HALEY IS in her pajamas and I’ve read a story and tucked into her bed, I head back into the living room, finding a still- sleeping Tessa curled up on the couch. Her mouth is parted, her lower lip pouty and full and taunting the hell out of me. Her breaths are even and deep, and though I try to stop it, though I try to tell myself not to look, the movement draws my eyes right to her chest. I glance away quickly, though not before getting an eyeful, frustrated and irritated with myself that I can’t seem to get past this sudden, overwhelming attraction to her. Though sudden isn’t entirely accurate. It’s been building for longer than I’d care to admit, even before Cade left, and in the months since he’s been gone, it’s only grown.
Feeling guilt that this is Cade’s little sister—the same girl I’ve known since I was nine years old . . . the same girl Cade asked me to look after like she was my sister—I force myself to turn around and then start cleaning up the small mess Haley left, capping her markers and putting her drawing station where it belongs. Once that’s done, I go into the kitchen and put the leftovers away. I see only Haley’s plate and wonder if Tessa got anything to eat. Knowing her, she didn’t, too focused on getting her daughter taken care of.
When everything’s put away, I make my way over to the couch to try to rouse Tessa. She sleeps like the dead—always has. I should be ashamed of some of the shit Cade, Adam, and I did to her when we were younger. Basically every practical joke you could play on a sleeping person was in our weekend repertoires for too many years to count. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven us for making her wet the bed when she was fourteen. And thinking that only reiterates how much more like a sister she should be to me than a girl I fantasize about when I jack off. The whole thing is completely fucked up, and I’m right at the center of it, wishing I was doing the fucking.
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