August 15

Ever since the Daddy debacle, Mom’s been spending a lot of time in bed, so I’m back to doing the grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning. Not that she eats or moves all that much when she’s in her downswings.

Professor Row emailed me back, but I’ve been too busy to open it. Although, if I’m honest, I’m afraid to open it because she might have something wonderful to say. And even if she has something wonderful to say, I know I won’t follow through.

I can’t. Not now when Mom is so depressed.

I couldn’t possibly leave her.

Pushing those thoughts away, I press play on another true crime podcast before folding my clothes then sorting through my parents’ clothes. I stop when I see it, a smear of pink that can only be lipstick on the collar of one of my dad’s shirts.

I rub my thumb over the stain, thinking about all the nights I hoped what I feared wasn’t true. He wouldn’t betray my mother. Not after everything we’ve all been through.

But the evidence is right in front of me.

Setting aside the tainted Brooks Brothers shirt, I finish the rest of the laundry, planning what I’m going to say to him.

How dare you?

Are you deliberately trying to destroy our family?

Instead of coming home, you’re spending your nights with another woman or women?

You’re selfish and insensitive.

You only care about yourself.

I repeat those sentences and more in my head, hyping myself up for the confrontation, but I don’t get the chance.

Three, four, five, six days go by. Then it’s a full two weeks before my father finally comes home.

It’s a Saturday in September, the kind of perfectly clear, mildly cool day that hints at the months to come. It’s the kind of day I might want to find a perfect photo of some fall foliage, yellowing trees, apples, or some other stereotypical thing to post along with #Unbeleafable and #SweaterWeather.

But I don’t do that. Instead, I write a very different post about my brother, along with an old picture of us when we were little, two and five, maybe. My arms are wrapped around his middle like I’m squeezing really hard while he’s shoving me away.

It’s Ray’s birthday. He’s thirty-one years old today. I write about some of the birthdays I remember and grieve all the birthdays he won’t have.

Thisis the day my dad decides to return home.

His face is blotchy and red. His work clothes are wrinkled and untucked like he’s been in them since yesterday. He smells like he’s been dowsed in alcohol. “Hey,” he says, keeping his balance with a hand on the wall as he takes his shoes off at the door. “Taking care of your mother?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes, I’m taking care of her.”

“Good. Very good.” He sinks down into his chair, eyes closed. This is my chance to get it all off my chest, tell him how he’s completely abandoned Mom and me since Ray died. I want to tell him that we deserve better. That I want us to be a family again. But all of my preplanned material leaves my brain.

All I can stutter out is, “H-how could you?”

He opens one eye. “How could I what?”

“You’re having an affair.”

He makes a face like I’m crazy.

“There was lipstick on one of your shirts.”

He picks up the remote to turn on the television.

“Dad.”

He ignores me.

“Dad,” I say, moving closer to him. “Why? After everything that’s happened, why would you cheat on Mom?”

He rubs his hand over his face but doesn’t answer.

“Dad!”

His eyes slant to me, sharp and alert. “Don’t shout at me.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

I lose it. Absolutely lose it. “You can’t be gone for weeks at a time and then come back pretending to be my father! You have no right to do that! Not after how you’ve left us. And now you’re cheating on Mom. What’s wrong with you?”

He shoots up like a raging bull. “Your mother,” he sneers at me, “is a zombie, a shell of a person. Don’t talk to me about your mother.” He waves his arms back and forth in front of me. “You have no idea what it’s like for me. I have to work to keep this family afloat to come home to a wife who’s dead in the eyes and an ungrateful daughter.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think his words should hurt me, but they don’t. I’m numb to them, to him.

“You don’t know what it’s like when your child dies.” His voice quivers. “Your boy…you don’t know…”

He crumples in half, heaving giant breaths in and out, weeping. I’ve never seen him like this before. I don’t know how to comfort my father or if I even want to. I simply watch him melt into a puddle on the floor. “My baby boy,” he cries over and over.

I slump on the couch, dejected, apparently incapable of even leaving my asshole father alone while he’s like this, and I stay with him until he falls asleep, his shirt soaked with tears. I don’t realize what time it is until it’s too late and hurry to change for work. Gary didn’t send me any passive-aggressive texts or phone calls, so I hope he doesn’t notice I’m almost an hour late for my shift as I sneak in before the dinner rush. It’s raucous today with a huge bachelor party. They look like they’ve already tied one on during their golf outing with their polos, hats, and booming laughter. Plus, there’s a large table in the back for a 50th birthday party.

It’s another reminder of Ray.

Last year for his birthday, I’d begged him to go out and have a couple drinks with me, but he refused. He ended up taking the twins to a movie and then texting me a picture of his drink, a frozen blue Icee. I blink away the memory and the sting in my eyes.

The cloud of my brother and father looms large above me as I work, trying to ignore the stupid jokes from the bachelor party. They aren’t even my table and yet insist on being completely disgusting to every server who passes.

“Hey, girlie…”

I spin toward the guy with the backward Puma cap. “What?”

“You’d be prettier if you smiled more.”

The men behind him snicker, and I dream of stabbing him with a dull knife. I settle for a snarl instead.

“Bet she’s an animal in bed,” one of them says as I stomp away.

I’m about to pivot around to say something, but Celia, their server, snags my wrist. “It’s not worth it,” she says and nudges me to the back. I lean against the register stand and take a minute to peek at my phone. There’s a message from Vince.

How are you today?

He’s checking on me because he knows it’s my brother’s birthday. I guess he’s probably seen my post. God, I miss him.

I’m okay, I type back and ask How are you? Because even though they seemed to have grown apart in recent years, he was Ray’s best friend at one time. Like brothers.

A few seconds later, the bubble pops up that he’s replying, but as the message appears, a purposeful throat clears behind me.

“Cass.”

I recognize Gary’s voice and hide my phone like a kid caught with candy. “What’s up?”

“I was going to talk to you after your shift, but let’s do it now.” I follow him back to the small office. He sets his feet wide and crosses his arms. “I’ve given you a lot of room after what happened with your brother, but you’ve continually broken the rules here?—”

“I don’t?—”

“I’m talking,” he says. His face is the most serious I’ve ever seen it, and I’m taken aback, immediately quieting, a queasy feeling settling in my stomach. He shakes his head at me. “Quite frankly, I don’t think you need or deserve an explanation, but you’ve been late on multiple occasions, you have a bad attitude, and you’re always on your phone, so I’m letting you go.”

“You’re firing me?” I’m stunned. I’ve never been fired before, not that I’ve worked many jobs, but still.

“I can’t believe you’re so shocked. Honestly, do you even care?”

“Yeah, I work here. I need to work here.”

“Well, you don’t act like it,” he says, leaning against a small shelf. “You think you can go through life half-assing it?”

I want to argue, although I can’t come up with anything to fire back at him. This job sucks, but I need the paycheck. “Come on, please. I’m having a really hard time right now.”

He’s unmoved. “I’ve given you countless warnings. I know you’re going through some things, but so are a lot of people.” He vaguely motions over my shoulder. “You don’t need to finish your shift. I’ll get your tables covered, so you can head out now. I’ll send your check home. Leave your apron in the locker.”

I back out of the room, trying to be tough about this, but I can’t. I take my bag and leave my apron before heading out the front door, too embarrassed to even say goodbye to anyone. Gary didn’t lie when he said I half-assed this job. It’s true I need the money, but I despised working at Sassie’s. But with no job, I have nothing really holding my life together. The only bright side is that my parents won’t care. They won’t even notice.

Sitting behind the wheel of my car, I open my text thread with Vince to read his last message. I’m all right. But I’m thinking of you today. All days, but especially today.I hope you’re blasting some Bruce.

I sniffle and drop my hand to the steering wheel. Why does he have to be so perfect?

Especially when I’m not.

After a minute, I text him. Not right now. I got fired.

What?!?!

Your punctuation is totally unnecessary because the rhetorical question intonates your surprise.

What?!?!

I am unemployed.

Are you okay?

No.I type my answer without thinking, but I suppose the time for pretending I’m fine is over now. Can I come over?

The typing bubble doesn’t immediately pop up. In fact, it doesn’t show up until after I’ve counted twelve Mississippis.

Sure.