In a huff, I pulled upto the curb, right outside of my childhood home, and wrenched my neck to glareat my oldest daughter. The angry glare in my eyes didn’t scare her out of herresolve to be resentful, but at the lift of my finger, pointed directly at her,she swallowed.
“Lillianna! Ineverwant to hear you say that again,got it?” She responded with silence, tucking her lower lip between her teeth asher sisters eyed me with caution. “Your grandparents donothate you, and you know that. They’re actually very excited tospend some time with you girls, and I expect you to behave. If I hear that anyof you gave them a hard time tonight, there will be no dessert for a week. Doyou understand me?”
“Aweek?” Shelly squeaked, clenching her fists in her lap, the fear ofGod evident on her face.
“A week,” I clarified,catching the opening of my parents’ front door from the corner of my eye. “Now,answer me. Do you understand?”
Lilly and Shelly noddedtheir heads, while Annabel continued to look at me as though I were a horrificmonster. I felt like one, after threatening them over something that wasn’t atall their fault. I hated that I wasworkingand Ihated that they were upset. I hated that I had allowed them to reach a place ofdiscomfort at my parents’ place, and more than anything, I hated that Icouldn’t go back and fix it.
My expression softened.“Just be good, okay? Do that for me. Please.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Shellyreplied, and Lilly and Annabel nodded.
“Thank you,” I said,just in time for my dad to open my car door. “Howdypardner.”
Born and raised on LongIsland, my father had spent his entire life in a state of displacement. Hisclothing staples were a pair of cowboy boots and a hat to match, and his chosenlingo was pulled straight from the old Westerns. The man was meant for Texas,and I could never understand why he hadn’t fled New York and listened to thecall of his heart.
“Howdy, kiddo,” hereplied, lifting the brim of his Stetson. He peered into the backseat. “There’smy three little ladies. How are you gals doing?”
I took a glance intothe backseat, reminding them of our deal with a lift of my brows, and theysmiled at my father.
“Hi Pop-pop,” Shellyreplied jubilantly, grinning.
“What are you boysdoing?” Mom muttered irritably, pulling the mini-van door open. “They’ve beensitting in this car for forty minutes, Jonathan. Help me get them out.”
Dad met my eyes with animpatient glare, and I chuckled. The two of them had both recently retired,which was great for them. I was happy they could leave work and spend some timeenjoying their lives before old age settled in and made it harder. But Iwonderedhowthey were spending theirtime together, if they were driving each other crazy after so much time apartduring their working years. Judging from the look in Dad’s eyes, I assumed Iwas correct.
For just a moment, Iwondered what it would’ve been like for Beth and me, had we made it that far.From the moment we moved in together, it’d been all work-work-work, just tokeep the roof over our heads and some semblance of food in our bellies. Seldomasking for help, it was all we could do to keep ourselves above water.
Truthfully, by the timeshe passed away, I scarcely remembered what it had been like to spend more thantwenty minutes at a time with her.
And just like that, thegrief tore at my wounded heart.
I liked to think wewould’ve faced retirement with love and the happiness of finally being able tospend our long-awaited time together. But who really knows? We might’ve foundthat, after decades of working and raising children, we no longer had anythingin common. The thought was depressing. It pained me to consider the fact thatwe might’ve entered our golden years with divorce papers in hand, if notsooner. But still, it hurt more to know we never got the chance to find out.
“Jonathan?” I turned tosee the expectant look on my father’s face. “You disappeared for a secondthere. You okay?”
I apologized with anod, and helped my mother unbuckle the kids.
***
“How’ve you beenholdin’up?” Dad asked, flipping the burgers on the grill.
I groaned, pressing myback against the side of the garage. “I really hate that question.”
Heactuallychuckled. “I can imagine.”
“I’m just sick of it,”I replied honestly, keeping my eye on the girls, as they helped my mother shuckcorn. “But, actually, I’ve been doing better.”
He glanced up at me.“Youlookbetter.”
A grumbled chuckleshook my chest. “A haircut and a shave will do that.”
“Well, yeah, thatcertainly helps. Last time I saw you, you looked homeless. But you look good.Happier.”
Tipping my head, Ireplied, “I don’t know if I’m really happier, or if I’m just doing a better jobat dealing. I’ve been applying for jobs, too. No callbacks yet, but at least Ifeel like I’m maybe heading in the right direction.”
“Well, that’s something,”he nodded, rotating the hot dogs, “but do you really want to quit playing thepiano?”
