“So before you decided to open rock-climbing gyms with your brother, what did you do for work?” Dad asks.
Josh proceeds to politely tell everyone about Faraday & Sons—a topic I’m sure he has no interest in, since he’s never once talked about it with me. As I listen to him, I learn a lot I didn’t know, actually—and also realize, hey, Josh is pretty damned smart. But my attention span quickly evaporates and, while Josh is explaining something horrendously boring, no offense, I steal a glance at Colby. He’s studying Josh intently, listening to every word he says, nodding occasionally. There’s color in Colby’s cheeks, I notice—a sparkle in his eyes. In fact, Colby looks remarkably close to his former self—as good as he’s looked since the roof so horribly caved in on him, literally and figuratively, four weeks ago.
“So your father started the business, then?” Mom asks. “He’s the ‘Faraday’ in ‘Faraday & Sons’?”
Josh’s thigh tenses under my palm. “That’s right.”
“And do your parents still live in Medina?” Mom asks.
Josh’s thigh twitches under the table and I squeeze it.
“Mom, Josh doesn’t wanna talk about that,” I intervene.
“No, it’s fine,” Josh says, patting my hand under the table. He clears his throat. “My parents have both passed away.”
There’s a palpable shift of energy in the room. Instantly, the air is thicker—heavier—and every member of my family, without exception, suddenly looks some variation of ashen, somber, or flat-out devastated.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom says.
Everyone follows Mom’s lead and mumbles some form of condolence.
“It’s okay,” Josh says. “It’s been a long time.”
“How old were you?” Mom asks. “Did they die together in some sort of accident?”
“Uh, no, not together. My mom died when I was seven. She was murdered in our home by an intruder. And my dad died when I was seventeen.”
Josh’s last sentence hangs in the air. Clearly, everyone is waiting for Josh to identify the cause of his father’s death the way he identified his mother’s—but Josh doesn’t say another word.
“What happened to your father?” Dax asks after a moment.
Mom puts her hand on Dax’s shoulder as if to quiet him. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it, honey,” she says, her voice awash in tenderness. “We totally understand.”
“No, it’s fine,” Josh says. “Uh. My father suffered from severe depression after the death of my mother.” Josh bites his lip. “He never got over losing her.” He presses his lips together and leaves it at that.
For the first time, I’m seeing exactly why Josh once told me he hates telling people his life’s story.Everyone suddenly looks at me funny when I tell them,he said.Like they think I’m “laughing through the pain.”
And now I see exactly what Josh meant. Of course, I know my family members are looking at Josh with nothing but deep sympathy,but I’d shut the hell up over time, too, if people constantly looked at me the way my family’s looking at Josh right now.
“Well,” Mom says definitively. “I’m very sorry for your losses, Josh.”
“Thank you,” Josh says. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”
“Please know you’re always welcome here. Any time.”
“Thank you,” Josh says. His cheeks are red.
There’s an awkward silence. Mom looks like she’s gonna cry.
Josh shifts in his chair and then, almost like a turtle burrowing himself into his shell, he takes a huge, conversation-ending bite of spaghetti. “This really is the best sauce I’ve ever had,” he mumbles between chews, filling the awkward silence.
Mom’s face is bursting with compassion. “I’m glad you like it—especially since it’s your turn for extras.”
We all exchange looks, nonverbally acknowledging our shock.
From the look on his face, it’s clear Josh doesn’t understand the gift Mom’s just bestowed upon him.
“Whenever Mom makes her spaghetti sauce or chili or lasagna,” I explain, “two or three of us get to take home a huge portion of leftovers to put in our freezer. We call it getting extras.”
