by Sara Zarr
Uncle Mike said to Megan, “You may think your dad is boring and passive. You may think a lot of things. Based on knowing your dad my whole life—”
“What you see as materialistic,” Aunt Brenda said, jumping in, “is him wanting to give you guys everything you need and make sure you’re secure.”
“But—”
“It’s okay.” Aunt Brenda put her arm around Megan, jostled her a little. “Megan. I know you think you’re like thirty years old and know everything, but you’re not and you don’t. I know because I was like you.”
“Megan, you’re gonna be the Aunt Brenda when we’re old,” Taylor said.
“Probably not a Stanford professor, though,” Kyle added.
“Thanks, Kyle.”
“All we’re saying, what we came up here to tell you,” Uncle Mike said, “is that your mom and dad are back from our place, and they both feel like shit, and maybe we could all just try not to be assholes to either of them.” He pointed at Brenda with his beer. “Including you.”
“Yeah, including me.”
“Also, we love you guys, okay?” Uncle Mike looked at each of them. “And we hope next time something big goes down, you know you can count on us.” He paused just long enough for everyone to feel embarrassed. “Aaaaand, the other very important piece of info we came to deliver is that the dance is tonight, instead of on the last night. Well, we could dance on Saturday, too. But we definitely need it now.”
“The cathartic power of getting down,” Aunt Brenda said.
“The healing balm of the beat,” Uncle Mike said.
“The life-changing magic of the boogie.”
“The seven habits of highly effective busting a move.”
“The—”
“Stop,” Megan said, finally cracking a smile. “I think we get it.”
Aunt Brenda put her hands on her hips and nodded at Uncle Mike. “Our work here is done.”
In the early afternoon, Kyle and Emily played catch with Alex and Jacob. The mood on the farm was low-key, quiet. That calm after a drama, or plain exhaustion.
Emily grimaced after having to reach up high to make a catch. “Every muscle between every rib is sore from pulling hardware.”
“I’m not sore,” Alex said.
“Your mouth is probably sore from talking so much, though, huh?” Emily threw the ball way over Alex’s head so she had to go run for it. “I’ve had about enough family togetherness,” Emily said to Kyle.
“I feel like no one actually wants to dance tonight. I feel like we want to sleep.”
“Right?”
“There’s my mom,” Jacob said.
The gold Subaru came down the driveway. Anna Partel waved.
“She said we could go to Great America on the way home.”
Kyle stood by Jacob. Coach Malone’s voice boomed in his head: Never lie to a kid. He tried to think of what to say, something that would be honest but not depressing.
“You’re probably not going to have the best summer,” he said. “Like, it’s not going to be the absolute best summer of your life, I think we can say that. Right?”
Jacob eyed him, suspicious. “Yeah.”
“But it doesn’t mean everything is shit. I promise.” He glanced toward Anna, sitting in the car. She’d better really be taking him to Great America. “Remember, it’s okay to still feel good if you want. Like, if you’re having fun, don’t stop and go, ‘Oh yeah, my parents’ and think you shouldn’t have fun. But . . .” Dang, it was hard to give a pep talk about this and still be honest. “But like, if you’re not having fun and you are sad and it does feel like everything is shit? It’s okay to feel that, too.”
Anna called out the window. “We gotta go, sweetheart. Get Chase.”
Kyle leaned down and said quietly to Jacob, “Just remember, sometimes adults are kinda . . . dumb.”
Jacob nodded and called Chase. The way he called, “Here boy, here, Chase,” all cheerful while patting his leg, made Kyle’s heart hurt.
Alex and Emily walked over, and Alex gave Jacob a hug, and it was super awkward, especially when Alex started to cry. Emily pulled Alex to her side. When Jacob had gotten in the car, Emily said to Alex, “You did a good job being really nice to him when he got dumped with a bunch of strangers. It really helped.”
“He’s not even looking back!” She kept crying as the car went up the drive. Emily rubbed her back and mouthed, “The drama!” to Kyle over Alex’s shoulder.
He laughed a little, but honestly Alex was breaking his heart too. Her scrawny body and giant tears and the way she still kept looking up the drive, like the Subaru was going to come back, were the total embodiment of the pain of saying goodbye. And he knew his turn was coming.
10
TAYLOR AND Megan were on the patio with Uncle Mike, each holding a big red cup.
“We’re reviewing the playlist,” Uncle Mike said.
“Well, no one needs to hear ‘Mony Mony’ again, ever,” Megan said, scrolling through Uncle Mike’s phone, which apparently he’d gotten back from the phone box. “Also FYI, I am deleting ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’ for obvious reasons.”
Kyle peered over Megan’s shoulder. “It’s so much eighties stuff.”
“If it’s not clear by now,” Uncle Mike said, “the dances are not for you. You guys have a dance every other week at school or at parties or whatever kids do. Opportunities for dancing go down like ninety-five percent once you pass college so, yeah, I admit it. The playlist is for us.”
“My dad won’t dance,” Kyle said.
“He can’t dance,” Taylor said. “Some of these aren’t even that danceable.”
Uncle Mike took the phone back. “Those are the cool-down songs. We’re old, guys. We can’t do more than three good dancing songs in a row.” He put his arm around Kyle. “And your dad can dance and he needs to dance and he will dance. I planted a bomb on this playlist, and when it detonates, I guarantee he will get on the dance floor.”
The rest of the afternoon, Aunt Brenda churned out adult slushies on the margarita machine while Grandma and Grandpa napped, and Kyle helped his dad and Uncle Mike set up the sound system. At one point he had to go out to Uncle Mike’s truck to look for an extension cord and noticed his mom’s car was gone.
He brought the cord back. His dad was up on a ladder; Kyle went over to steady it. “Where’s Mom?”
His dad came down one rung. “She left. For home. She wanted to slip away and not have it be a big thing.”
Kyle looked up at him.
“For real,” his dad said. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you—she specifically asked me not to tell until people noticed she was gone, and that is the whole truth. She wants a little time at home alone. To nest, she said.”
“Oh. Cool, I guess. I just thought . . . I don’t know.”
“Imagine if she stayed. Having to deal with everyone avoiding her or the topic or pitying or judging.” He came down another rung. “Kyle, I’m so sorry I put this on you back in March. If I could go back in time and handle it all differently, you know I would.”
Kyle nodded. “I know, Dad.”
Meanwhile, Megan, who would be twenty-one in a week, had gotten in on the booze. Taylor, who was still two years off from legal, kept sneaking it too. They were supposed to be clearing the patio but were actually kicking back in lawn chairs next to Emily and Great-Aunt Gina, talking in semi-hushed tones.
Kyle headed in that direction, to see if Megan and Taylor knew about their mom leaving and also to do a little chilling himself, when there was a giant crash, then Brenda swearing. Apparently his dad had come off the ladder to help Brenda reposition the drinks table for the tenth time, and now the margarita machine was in pieces on the concrete patio.
“Jeff!” she shouted.
“What? That wasn’t me!” Kyle’s dad protested. “The cord wasn’t long enough!”
“I just paid two hundred bucks for that thing! It was brand-new!”
Uncle Mike calle
d over, “I guess you’ll have to suffer through the horror of unblended margaritas tonight, Bren.”
“Why me, God?” Aunt Brenda yelled, shaking her fist at the sky.
They heard Grandma from inside the house: “People are trying to nap!”
“Help me up,” Great-Aunt Gina said to Emily. “I left my stick inside and I need to go in for a rest myself.” Emily got her up and they went into the house.
Rest. The word alone was enough to pull Kyle down onto one of the chaises. He took Taylor’s big red cup of whatever and helped himself to a few sips, passed it back, and closed his eyes.
“Mom’s gone,” he mumbled.
“We know,” Taylor said.
“Okay.” The cup was in his hand again. He sipped, eyes still closed, then held it out until someone took it away. His breathing slowed down. “I think she really loved that guy. Or loves.”
Megan scoffed. “For some reason.”
Kyle was drifting off.
“I don’t know,” Taylor said. “Do you think Jacob will be okay?”
“Will we?” Kyle mumbled, and that’s all he remembered until he woke up at dusk, sore from falling asleep, and hard, on strips of vinyl. Uncle Mike had started playing some low, chill countryish music to set the mood. Emily was playing backgammon with Uncle Dale while Alex watched. Kyle headed into the kitchen to grab a couple bites of leftovers, and when he came back out, Aunt Brenda was downing her unblended margarita and harassing Uncle Mike until he declared it, officially, time to dance.
The playlist started with classic Stevie Wonder. Easy enough to get everyone onto the floor. Even Kyle’s dad, who’d been drinking a bottle of beer, let Taylor coax him out of his camp chair, though halfway through the song he faded back and chatted with Great-Aunt Gina and Grandpa Navarro, who both watched from the corner.
“I’m glad Uncle Mike finally admitted this is pretty much all for him and my mom,” Emily said. She and Kyle were on the very edges, where they could sort of look like they were participating but not actually dance per se.
“I know,” Kyle said. “This is his happy place.”
“How did Megan and Taylor learn to dance?”
“Not from my dad. He can barely clap to ‘Happy Birthday.’”
His sisters seemed to naturally know what to do, whereas Kyle took more after his dad with not quite being able to find the rhythm. Aunt Brenda danced up to Taylor and Megan while the Gap Band played, and then Martie and Alex jumped over, too.
“There she goes,” Emily said. Alex’s entire dancing style was based on jumping.
When the Gap Band faded down and Prince faded up, Aunt Brenda chugged the rest of whatever drink she was on and threw the cup to the side so she could give her full attention to dancing. She spun right into Uncle Mike and they both almost fell. Emily groaned.
During the first slower-song break, Uncle Mike swept Aunt Jenny into his arms and swayed with her, clasping her hand to his chest. She buried her face in his neck. It made Kyle think about him and Nadia enough that he had to look away.
Martie and Alex came over to sit on the ground next to Kyle and Emily, drinking cups of ice water. “How are we going to have a dance party next year?”
“Our house,” Martie said. “I’m already thinking where we could put the sound system.”
“You know what we should do, Emily?” Kyle asked.
“What should we do, Kyle?”
“Someday, someday. What if we took, like . . . tap lessons. And learned a Fred and Ginger routine or something.”
“Together? Like we do all the lessons together? Even though we live four hours apart?”
“Yes, and then perform it. At farm week. Or whatever we call farm week when the farm is gone.”
Uncle Mike cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Break about to be over! Everybody up!”
When the song started, Kyle’s dad jumped to his feet and said, “Dude!” to Uncle Mike.
“Oh, no,” Kyle said to Emily. “This is like my dad’s favorite song.”
Emily got up, suddenly energetic. “I’m going out there.” If she’d taken his hand, he’d have gone too. But she just skipped away. He heard Alex’s voice: He’s not even looking back.
His father hit the floor in his golf shirt and knee-length jean shorts. He bobbed his head and bit his lower lip like a bad parody of a white dad dancing, except Kyle knew it was totally authentic. Then he made eye contact with Kyle, mouthing lyrics, coming toward him.
“Shit,” Kyle said under his breath.
In a second, his dad’s hands were clasped on Kyle’s, dragging him out. He flashed back to Martie’s birthday and Aunt Brenda. What was with this family? It was like you weren’t allowed to not dance.
“Okay, okay,” he said, and did his own pathetic two-step.
His dad kept holding Kyle’s hands. It was weird, and then it wasn’t. They didn’t let go.
Emily was next to them now, and when the chorus started, she and everyone else sang, “Lido! Whoa-oh-oh-ohhhh!” and then in the next verse, his dad dropped Kyle’s hands so he could point to the sky and shout, “Toe the line or don’t, and that was all she wrote!”
During the snapping part of the song, Kyle stepped back to watch his dad along with the little crowd of family that had circled him. Jeff Baker snapped off the beat. He spun on one foot. He closed his eyes. He kept shouting lyrics, missing half of them but still moving his mouth.
If Kyle’s mom could see him now.
Boz Scaggs faded out, and Aunt Brenda was trying to push into the circle formed around his dad. It felt like if they’d been strong and sober, they would have lifted his dad up on their shoulders like a winning soccer team. Kyle laughed at how sweaty his father was and then did a double take and thought, No, he’s crying—well, yeah, he’s also super sweaty, but those are tears on his cheeks. And his first instinct was to look away before his dad caught him seeing, but why?
He wanted to see. He wanted to be seen. He wanted to be seen seeing.
Then he did what he really wanted to do, which was get his dad in a bear hug, or get himself into one from his dad.
They embraced. Over his dad’s shoulder, he saw Emily dance a little jig, sort of to the music, and Kyle laughed and his dad thought he was laughing at him, at them, and they goofed around pretending to dance like an awkward junior high couple, and it made everyone laugh, and they acted like they were stretching out the joke but really they were holding on and holding on and holding on.
At the end of the night, some of the kids were lying on the patio, some sitting on the ground. The adults were in lawn chairs and camp chairs. Only Great-Aunt Gina had given up and gone to bed. Pico lay at Grandpa’s feet, eyes closed. Big citronella candles at the perimeter made the shadows jump. Uncle Mike had switched to a dreamy, mellow playlist full of guitars and singing in Spanish.
“How do you know about Carlos Lico?” Grandpa Navarro asked Mike, clenching an unlit pipe in his teeth.
“How do you think?” Aunt Jenny asked her father.
Grandpa Navarro hummed along, then got up and walked into the shadows to smoke.
Aunt Brenda and Uncle Dale held hands. Emily said they practically hadn’t let go of each other ever since finding out about Kyle’s parents, like marriage problems might be contagious and they already had enough of their own. Grandma Baker started talking about how much she was looking forward to having less stuff, being in a smaller space. She had an idea for a mystery novel she wanted to write.
It was like everyone had agreed to not get sad tonight. Even though there were so many sad things, and they were so tired. Uncle Mike had been right. They’d needed to dance.
Part IV
Coach Kyle
These kids kill me.
He’d snapped a pic of Ruby and Tatum posing with their ball caps pulled low, elbows out. It was supposed to be for the team Facebook page but he sent it to Emily too.
“Guys,” he told them. “You gotta be nicer to the new girls.”
/> “We’re nice!”
“No, I know. You’re not mean. But you played together all year and they just started, you know? Try to include them.”
They look like a pain in the ass haha, Emily said.
That too.
He put his phone in his pocket before Coach Malone caught him texting. Later on, he’d tell Emily about his 960 on the SAT. It was garbage compared to her score, or his sisters’, but considering how the year had gone, it was a start.
“Cone drill, let’s go!” he shouted, clapping his hands. Every time he clapped his hands like Ito or Malone, he felt fifty years old and vowed to never do it again, and always did it again. The girls sprinted and pivoted cone to cone to cone. He timed them and tried to spark a little competition without being a dick about it.
It was three weeks since the farm. His mom was still living at home, but in Megan’s old room and not trying to pretend like she wasn’t. They’d had a few family dinners. His parents were going to start therapy next week.
He’d seen Jacob once, taken him for ice cream, and then Anna Partel said it was all too weird and she’d rather make a clean break from the Bakers. Which seemed kind of shitty for Jacob, because they’d started to bond, but there wasn’t a whole lot Kyle could do about it.
He’d seen Megan a few times and Emily none, except on video. Last time they talked, she’d shaved her head completely. Not bald bald, but like a buzz cut. Now Aunt Brenda wanted to try it.
Saying goodbye to Emily at the farm had been as bad as he’d thought it was going to be but almost in a good-pain sort of way. The kind of pain that was there to remind you something special was happening and it wouldn’t always be like that.
They’d walked to the gazebo the morning they were leaving and listed off their favorite farm memories of all time: the first year they were old enough to sleep in the bunkhouse, the year Megan was fifteen and “borrowed” Uncle Mike’s truck without asking and drove all the kids into town for ice cream in violation of every driver’s license regulation in existence, the summer Aunt Brenda was finishing her dissertation and made the kids act out some experimental play she’d written about the afterlife.