All the Good Parts

by Loretta Nyhan

  So, almost just to prove Carly wrong, I waited until the perfectly round pond grew dark and cloudy with the fading light, and the dipping sun flashed orange light against the mirrored windows. Men dressed identically in khakis and dark polo shirts emerged and made beelines for the shiny BMWs and Acuras waiting patiently around me.

  I had no more patience. I unfolded myself from my Honda, stretched my legs, and shouldered my purse. Inside the cool lobby, a security guard watched with interest as I approached. I explained who I was looking for, and together we read the sign-in log. Garrett’s name was printed in block letters. He’d signed in, but he’d never signed out.

  “Can I look for him?” Something in my face made the security guard look away.

  “Sign your name under his,” he said gruffly. “He was headed for the fourth floor. I’ll call it up.”

  “Thanks.” I moved toward the elevator bank, head swiveling around, though I didn’t expect to see Garrett. He felt like a figment of my imagination already, something so vivid and realistic one moment and gone the next, too watery to embed in my memory.

  The elevator door opened with an expensive sigh onto a sleek, modern vestibule. To the right, a glass door revealed the start of a row of cubicles. To the left, a hallway led to the restrooms. I knew where to go.

  I didn’t bother to knock on the men’s room door. If I embarrassed myself by walking in unannounced, I didn’t care.

  It was empty, or at least I thought so at first. I bent over, looking for shoes, but didn’t see any. I was just about to walk out when I heard the careful, ragged inhalation of someone who’d been crying.

  “Garrett?”

  He didn’t answer, but I did, by pushing open the stall doors one by one. The last I pushed open to find Garrett curled atop the toilet, pants up, hands gripping his shins, head buried between his knees. His entire body trembled, and he looked damp, like a wrung-out tissue.

  “It’s okay,” I said softly.

  “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, slowly lifting his head. Garrett’s eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was so pale the stubble forming on his chin looked like streaks of charcoal. “I’m so sorry.”

  I took his clammy hand and pulled him up. He came easily, his tall body gangly and fluid, a puppet on a string. Head bowed, he closed his eyes, and I reached for him, drawing him close, letting his head fall to my shoulder, his body racked with something like grief. “I can’t do it,” he said, burrowing into my neck like a child. “I can’t. I just can’t. Can you forgive me? Can you?”

  “Nothing to forgive. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I made soothing noises, not even words, trying to calm his pain, but he continued to shake against me, like something cold had burrowed deep within his bones. “You’re going to be okay,” I promised, a note of insistence in my voice. “You are.”

  “No,” he said. “No.” Then the tears fell, and there is nothing worse than hearing someone lose himself so completely. “I can’t be the person you want me to be,” he said, voice strangled.

  “I want you to be happy. That’s all. Nothing more.” I rubbed circles on his back, over and over, like I wanted to wipe away his pain. As I held him up, I felt worse and worse about what he was really saying to me—he’d disappointed me. But that was not the case at all.

  I’d disappointed him. How could I ask him to be a father, when it was painfully obvious that he was a man most in need of a mother? I patted his back a few more times and tucked my fingers under his chin, lifting it. “Let’s get back to the car,” I said, cementing a smile in place. “Let’s get you home.”

  Nursing 320 (Online): Community Health

  Private Message—Leona A to Darryl K

  Leona A: I lost a friend today. I mean, he’s not dead or anything, but he’s gone. Something bad happened when we were out together, and when I dropped him off, he couldn’t say goodbye because it was like he already said it, and everything was over. We hadn’t even been friends long, but I’d convinced myself I was helping him. Now I’m wondering if I caused irreparable damage.

  Darryl K: I’m sorry, Leona.

  Leona A: The whole situation is so sad.

  Darryl K: Loss always is.

  Leona A: The thing is, I anticipated it. At least my subconscious did. I was trying to balance our impact on each other. We were supposed to change each other’s lives, but that’s too much pressure to put on something so new. Now, I’m worried for him.

  Darryl K: Do you think he’s worried for you?

  Leona A: I don’t know.

  Leona A: Probably. Maybe. I don’t think it matters. In the contest for most fragile, he wins, hands down.

  Darryl K: Then maybe you need to let him get stronger on his own.

  Leona A: Isn’t that what we say when we don’t have what it takes to help someone? We put it all on their shoulders? It’s a cop-out. And I don’t deserve one.

  Darryl K: Being hard on yourself isn’t absolution, it’s procrastination. You need to move on and you don’t want to.

  Leona A: I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.

  Darryl K: No maybes. I am.

  Leona A: That’s something I need to think about.

  Leona A: Oh, hey, did you get everything squared away with the single parents’ group?

  Darryl K: Yep. Get your questions ready. They’re meeting the Saturday before Thanksgiving at 6 p.m. Love Community Center, Loves Park.

  Leona A: Those names! Promise me this isn’t a joke.

  Darryl K: It’s a real place, that I can promise. I’m looking forward to everything about this. Mostly, though, I just want to sit across from you and have an honest, soul-baring conversation. It’s about time we laid eyes on each other, isn’t it?

  Leona A: What if you don’t like what you see? After today, I’m not sure I want to look in the mirror.

  Darryl K: You fear too much, Leona.

  Leona A: So I’ve been told, Darryl. So I’ve been told.

  CHAPTER 26

  Fear is a parasite, attaching itself to plump, healthy emotions like hope and desire, longing and aspiration. It jumps on your back and sucks hard. I’d managed to pry the beast off just enough to get a little of my mojo back, but I hadn’t noticed the one holding Garrett so tightly around the neck that he’d choked that day at Rizer Technologies.

  It hadn’t let go of him. Shortly after the disastrous job interview, he called Carly to quit his job as Maura’s tutor.

  “Let him go,” Carly said after I’d insisted we call him back. She ran a hand through her limp curls, which looked every bit as exhausted as she did. “He’s not your problem anymore. I know that sounds harsh, but don’t you think you should let him lick his wounds in private?”

  I nodded, but still I found myself parked in the library lot as day slipped into night, slumped down in the driver’s seat, spying on Garrett as he diligently collected the garbage other people carelessly tossed into the air without a thought.

  He tied off the refuse bag and lobbed it into the Dumpster, shrugged on a jacket he’d pulled from his duffel bag, and stood, still and watchful, under the uncertainty of a blinking street lamp.

  I held my hands out as I walked toward him, but what I had to offer wasn’t a juicy roast beef sandwich wrapped in shiny paper, but a bland apology, heartfelt as it was. “I’m sorry I forced you into that situation,” I began, feeling like it wasn’t enough. He didn’t look surprised to see me, and he didn’t look sad either.

  “It’s all right, Leona.”

  “I understand if you’re angry with me.”

  “Well, I’ll admit I was a mite upset with you for not noticing my distress.”

  Why is it when we give someone permission to be angry with us, we still get instantly defensive when they take us up on the offer? “I didn’t mean any harm. I was thinking about your future—”

  Garrett put both his hands on my shoulders. They felt steady, reassuring. “I said it was okay, and I meant it. I think you might have helped me, in a way, though I don’t know
if you’ll see it in kind.”

  “How in the world did I help?”

  Garrett smiled. “Right now, in order for me to be happy, this is what I have to be doing. I like living at the Episcopal church, and I like helping out at the library. I like carrying around my duffel bag and occasionally arm wrestling with Mr. Williams. I don’t want to think about the future, or the past. If this is what they call ‘living in the moment,’ it’s working for me.”

  I understood the value of appreciating the moment, but living only there? Completely ignoring the past didn’t erase it. Not acknowledging the future meant giving up hope. “Thinking like that makes you feel safe, Garrett,” I said, “and that’s not a bad thing, but it’s not the best thing for living a life.”

  “Right now, it’s the best way I know how to live my life.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with him. There was something in Garrett’s brilliant blue eyes I’d never seen before, a confidence newly born and skittish, but also healthy and robust. Maybe it could grow stronger if he kept his world small for now, if he learned the particular skill of succeeding at life on your own terms.

  “Best of luck to you, Garrett,” I said, after kissing him on the cheek for the last time and offering him the ride I knew he would decline. I got into my car and pulled around the lot, stopped right alongside him, and rolled down the window.

  “You’re a good person,” I half shouted over the wind.

  “I know,” he said, and as I drove away, the grin on his face kept me smiling for miles.

  Brophy House was slowly becoming uninhabited. Boxes lined the hallways, packed with all the things the kids could do without, the items that would languish in a storage facility until they returned. I forced myself to look at them—chances were, by the time they got back, the kids wouldn’t want any of it. They’d have outgrown their lives here. They would have outgrown me.

  Carly placed an ad on Craigslist, searching for renters. She included the basement apartment, certain I’d join them overseas. If all went as expected, strangers would be living in this house by the New Year. I tried to imagine some other woman in my basement, or would it be a guy? Would they shove my rag rug in the closet and paint over my gray walls? I couldn’t picture it. I couldn’t picture anything. Because I hadn’t made up my mind yet about my future. For a moment I wished I could adopt Garrett’s live-for-the-moment philosophy, but I’d spent too many moments with the kids to not know that I’d be missing countless others. I had to remind myself that the future was built on hope.

  “I’m so sorry for this, Lee,” Donal said when he caught me sitting on the front stoop, shivering and staring off into space. Donal was smoking again, and he lit up with a shrug. “Kara says if the process runs smoothly, we’ll be back in a year or two.”

  “When does a process ever run smoothly?” He winced as I said it.

  “Do you want to come with us? Carly seems to think you do, but you’re frightened. Is that it? Are you scared of leaving?” He gestured to the home he’d built with my sister. “I am. I’m fucking terrified. I haven’t been back since my twenties, and Ireland’s a lovely place, really, it is, but I don’t know if I’ll recognize it. It’s been so long I don’t remember why I left in the first place, and that’s dangerous. It means I might want to stay, and then I’ll add on another element of unhappiness to our lives.”

  “Maybe you’ll all be happy there,” I said, though the thought of it cramped my stomach.

  He shook his head and tossed the cigarette butt. Donal’s cleanliness obsession was in remission. “I’m happy where your sister is,” he said softly. “It’s always been like that for me, but she needs more. It’s why I love her, but it’s also why I worry. We’ll be living on a farm. My grandmother fancies herself a modern woman, and the house has all the amenities, but is it too much to ask?”

  “I don’t think you ever had to ask.”

  “Then I am a lucky man.”

  The screen door flapped open, and Maura came bursting out. She wore bright green skinny cords and a tank top underneath one of Carly’s leather jackets, which slid off her shoulder. Her backpack was gone, replaced by an enormous blue suede hobo-style purse I hadn’t seen before.

  “I’m going out,” she announced, already halfway down the driveway.

  “Did you ask your mother?”

  “She’s busy. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Maura Evelyn!”

  Maura tripped to a halt. She turned and glared at Donal. “Why are you making this a big deal?”

  “Because you are. Now, if you haven’t told your mother, you’re going to tell me. Where are you going?”

  “I’m meeting up with some kids at the park.” She lifted her chin in my direction, as if daring me to say something. The thing was, she gave me more credit than I deserved. What was it about the park I was supposed to remember? Was that the kissing park? Was Maura meeting a boy? Something more sinister? She’d been butting heads with Carly nonstop since the hearing, but I figured that was to be expected. Teens excelled in wielding their anger like a weapon. It was one of the few they had, so it got the most practice.

  Maura’s hands went to her hips. “Are you going to hold me up any longer?”

  “Who’re you meeting?” Donal had crossed his arms in a countermove, but I already knew Maura would win this battle. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore.

  “Katie and Eliza Jane. You’ve met them.”

  “I don’t want you walking by yourself.”

  “I’ve got to go to work,” I piped in. “I’ll take her.”

  Maura huffed a sigh. “Fine,” she said, and walked to my car without a glance in my direction.

  We drove in silence, save for Maura giving me directions. “When we get to the park, I want you to leave me off at the corner of it. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  “Not going to happen.” I pulled into the parking lot. I could see a group of kids Maura’s age by the play park. Their gangly bodies draped over the equipment like dripping candles.

  “See ya.”

  “Not so fast.” I didn’t have the patience to wait for her to deem me worthy of conversation. “Are you still angry, or is it something more?”

  “I’m not just angry,” she growled. “I’m pissed. You could have told me what was going on when we were in the bathroom, and you didn’t. You chose to keep me in the dark like a stupid little kid.”

  “Again, it wasn’t my place.”

  “Was it your place to mess up Garrett?” She looked almost scared as she said it, like she was pushing buttons and didn’t know what they would do.

  “I told you what happened. Garrett needs some time to be alone.”

  “Well, I don’t have time. You and my mom and dad messed everything up, so none of you have any right to treat me like I’m going to mess things up. I haven’t done anything!” She kicked the dash with her sneaker, her heel landing hard on her purse. I heard a tinkling sound, glass hitting glass, and a memory surfaced, quick and clear, of what Carly and I hid in our purses when we were only slightly older than Maura.

  “What’s in your purse?”

  “Nothing,” she said in a weighty tone of voice that said she really meant everything.

  “Show me,” I said, the echo of Estelle’s mocking laughter in my ears. “Now.”

  Maura lifted the door lock and looped the purse over her arm. “I said it was nothing.”

  I should have been embarrassed by the tug-of-war that ensued, but I wasn’t, because I won. Maura scowled at me as I dug through her belongings.

  “You’re violating my privacy,” she hissed.

  That did give me pause. How was this different from Estelle raking through my things? I watched the color drain from my niece’s face and decided now was not the time for analysis.

  My hand found something cylindrical, a mason jar filled with clearish liquid, sprigs of darkened thyme giving it a light green cast.

  “It’s herbal water,” Maura mumbled.


  “It looks an awful lot like the infused vodka I gave to your parents for Christmas last year.”

  She saw that protest was futile, and then the tears came, a guilty cry, the kind that turns frantic and hiccupy. “I’m so sorry, Auntie Lee. Please don’t tell my mom and dad. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

  “Why did you do it in the first place?”

  One shoulder went up. “I don’t know.”

  “Is that what you do at this park? Drink?”

  “No! I just thought . . . well, I thought . . .” She couldn’t finish, and I knew why. I’d have a hard time admitting it, too.

  “You thought everyone would look at you with different eyes.”

  “Sort of,” she said, but I could sense her relief. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I get that.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. Everyone does. You know that, right?”

  Maura snorted. “Not my mom.”

  “Your mom, too. Everyone wants people to see them as special and like them for it. And it doesn’t go away when you get older, you just don’t need the approval so much. The problem is when you try to be someone you’re not. The attention doesn’t last because you can’t keep up the ruse. Eventually, they’ll see what you’re presenting is not the real you. Am I making sense?”

  “I don’t know.” She glanced at her friends, and then back to me. “What are you going to do about the . . . stuff you found?”

  I thought for a moment. “I’m taking the vodka back. If you promise this will never happen again, I’ll forget about it, but you shouldn’t. Will you think about what I said?”

  “Sure,” she said excitedly. “You’re the best, Auntie Lee.”

  Maura kissed me on the cheek and bolted from the car, slowing only when she drew close enough to her friends to be noticed, adjusting her pace, sauntering like she didn’t have a care in the world. I realized how much she was growing up, and what little impact my words had. She’d already learned to modify the self she chose to show the world, to hide the things that made her feel weak.