“Well, have a good trip,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else.
“Thanks, we will.”
I’m about to say goodbye and hang up, grateful that this chore is done, but then my dad starts talking. If this is going to be another TED Talk about how golf is superior to hockey in every way, I might just sit my phone on the nightstand and walk away.
“I have some letters here from the academic dean, Beckett.”
My heart stops for a second. That can’t be right. My grades are decent right now, better than they have ever been in my life. “Why would you get them?” The thought is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“They were addressed to Beckett Vandaele. And they were mailed to this residence. So, of course I opened them. They may have been intended for you, but since I’m still writing the checks and that's my name, too, I took certain liberties.”
“I’m passing all my classes,” I say, unable to stop the defensive tone in my voice.
“You say that like it’s an accomplishment.” My dad has never understood anything about me—not my love for hockey, and definitely not my learning disability. He’s a brilliant guy, I’m sure. You’d have to be to get through law school, and he loves reminding me that the only things we have in common are our names and our faces.
I want to defend myself, to tell him that it is an accomplishment. Josie’s shown me that much. But I know better than to get into an argument with BJ. Those never end well.
“See that you keep your grades up. After all, what am I funding this degree for if you can’t graduate and then spend your life getting into fights on the ice and sustaining head injuries?” He thinks he’s being funny. I’ve heard this kind of line enough times to know there’s a little lift to his lips right now, a half-smile. And I want to reach through the phone and punch him. We have video calls. Why can’t we have punch calls?
“That’s the plan,” I say. I’m probably baiting him, but he’s pissing me off.
There’s a noise in the background before his voice comes on the line again. “I should let you go. Lauren and I need to finish packing and I’m sure you have things to do. Happy Thanksgiving, Beckett.”
The phone is dead before I can answer, but that’s probably a good thing. I hate talking to him, so I should definitely not be pissed that he ended our call like that.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, I wind my way through my aunt’s house. There’s noise coming from everywhere, but that’sno surprise. When all of the Donohues get together, it gets loud. I peek down into the basement, but it’s just Uncle Brian and a couple of my cousins gathered around the TV, watching football.
My cousin Tommy bounds up the steps. “You comin down to watch?” he asks. “Bring some beers, will you? Oh, and if there’s any of that pepperoni cheese dip left, bring that, too.”
He turns to go back down to the man cave, but I stop him. “I’m looking for Josie. Have you seen her?”
“Yeah, she’s up in the living room with the little cousins,” he says, gesturing up the steps. “I guess this means I have to get my own beer?”
I laugh and lead the way into the kitchen, open the fridge door, and hand him a couple bottles. He offers one back, but I shake my head. That conversation with my dad put me in a crappy mood, and I’d much rather hang out with Jos than drink.
“She’s perfect for you, you know that, right?” my cousin says as he digs through the fridge for the pepperoni dip. It’s in a container marked ‘lentils’ in the way back, but I’m not telling him that. I’d never sell my Aunt Beth out.
“Yeah?” I think Jos and I are a pretty good fit, but I’m not exactly objective.
“Hell yeah,” Tommy says, giving up on the dip and going to the pantry for a bag of potato chips. “You both nerd out about shit. It’s kind of adorable, but also sort of sickening.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You geek out and it’s cute. She was talking to Ivy about that book series that’s a movie now and you talk about hockey all the time, like it’s the only sport that exists.”
“It’s the best one,” I interrupt.
Tommy played football back in high school, so he just rolls his eyes. “Whatever. All I’m saying is you’re both super passionate about what you’re into. Whenever you went on that whole rant about overtime rules, she was hanging on every word.And don’t even tell me you're not gonna get tickets to that romance movie when it comes out. Ten bucks says that at Easter, you’re gonna go on a rant about how the movies are never as good as the books. I’m happy for you. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I’m happy for me, too. Josie’s the best.”
Just as I say her name, I hear someone screaming it in the other room. I’m not worried, though. The scream is coming from my four-year-old cousin Fiona. She yells about everything, and this is definitely a happy scream.
I step into the room and the scene hits me hard.
“Again, again!” Fiona calls.
Josie’s on the floor, and my youngest cousins are gathered around her in a circle. Even Fiona’s baby brother is there in his little bouncy chair. There are a few stuffed animals in the circle, too, but like the little kids, their eyes are all trained on Josie. She’s sitting crisscross applesauce style and she’s got a turtle puppet on her left hand. There’s a giant stack of books off to the side and she’s reading one now, holding it with just one hand, letting all the kids see the pictures. She makes the little turtle guy turn the page and my first thought is that my girlfriend is fucking adorable. She’s definitely in the right line of work, no doubt, just like I am.