Page 49 of Love at a Funeral and Other Awkward Conversations

“Come on, Gary. I have a lot to do.”

“I’m really getting sick and tired of your BS.”

I put my pen down to give him my full attention. “My BS?”

“Yes,” he says, a little less bold. “You could have a little more enthusiasm about being here.”

“You’re right, I could.”

My easy capitulation takes the wind out of his sails, and he exhales audibly. He holds his hands out to me, his jaw moving up and down, probably searching for something to say, but I don’t let him get that far. “Except this is a breastaurant with girls walking around in short skirts and knee-highs, the food is subpar, and the patrons are drunk guys with roaming hands. This isn’t exactly a Michelin-star restaurant. I’m here for a paycheck, not the enthusiasm.”

I gather up my stuff, leaving him stuttering after me as I head to the back to fold utensils up in the napkins. The rest of the girls who work here are barely legal or wasting their early twenties trying to make it into Sassie’s Lassies’ calendar. They may be afraid of standing up to Gary, but I’m not. He’s a simpering try-hard, who gets off on having the title manager on his name tag and showing the young girls how tough he is, along with those “biceps” he’s been “working on.”

Gross.

He has his eye on me for the rest of the shift, and I can almost perceive the reproachful words form in front of him, but I don’t let him corner me to release them. Instead, I focus on getting out of here and finishing up what I need to for the tournament.

When I do finally return home, I spend the rest of the night packing up my car with donated snacks and beverages to sell at the concession stand, triple-checking I have the paper tickets for the 50/50 drawing, along with each team’s paperwork, all the permits, and throwing together a first aid kit. It’s only a plastic bag of a couple of Band-Aids, Q-tips, and a tampon, but it’ll have to do.

My nerves don’t let me sleep, and I’m up and dressed with the sun. Shockingly, so is my father. We dance around each other in the kitchen as we make coffee, and after all the shuffling, pouring, and stirring is done, silence falls between us.

Ray and Dad never had these awkward moments. They always got along. I’m not sure why. It’s not like they had a ton in common. Maybe it was because they both had the XY chromosomes, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, Dad and I are missing it.

When he moves to another room, I scrub my hands over my face. I should talk to him. I should tell him I need a father, not like the little girl in the “Butterfly Kisses” song way, but in the You’re my dad, act like it way. Then again, I should drag my mother to the doctor’s office instead of playing into her mood swings, but I don’t do that either.

This is the new status quo, and it’s my fault. I’m not forcing a relationship, because it’s easier to let it go. The road less traveled and such.

I toss back the rest of my coffee and head over to the field. It’s oddly satisfying to systematically check everything off my list as I set up the registration table, tie balloons to the fence, and hang the signs. I arrange the snacks in the concession stands, even putting the candy in size order. When Aunt Joanie shows up, I put her in charge of the registrations. Juan, the rental guy, sets up the microphone and sound system as people begin to arrive, and in a matter of minutes, my calm state ratchets up to chaos.

More people are here than I thought would be. They sit in the stands, linger on the fields, and warm up, throwing balls back and forth. A bunch of guys from RJ’s high school baseball team greet one another warmly, his coworkers and students mingle, and even more faces I don’t recognize continue to pour through the fence.

I spot Vince out of the corner of my eye, dressed to play in what looks like his old high school baseball jersey and hat. The sight of him, wearing that, without my brother next to him is momentarily earth-shattering. Of course I knew I was doing this for Ray, but being here today is yet another reminder he isn’t.

Vince strolls over to me, holding Gracie’s leash in his hand as she lopes next to him, and I smile past my melancholy. “Hey, pretty girl,” I say, kneeling down to kiss Gracie’s face. “I missed you.”

She licks my face and hand, and I nuzzle her.

“Didn’t miss me?” When I tip my head up to Vince, he smiles like he’s joking, but his rough voice gives him away. “I figured you guys would like some time to hang out since you haven’t seen each other in a while,” he says, referring to Gracie.

I want to apologize for making it weird between us. I can’t help it, I want to say. He said he didn’t mind my mess, but he doesn’t know the extent of my life in disarray. I don’t even fully understand the extent of it. It’s not you, I should tell him. It’s me. Really.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say instead.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He hands the leash to me, checking out the size of the crowd. “You got a really good turnout.”

I stand up, shielding my eyes with sunglasses. “Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t sound too happy.” He fixes the bill of his baseball hat and tilts his head, doing his usual wary inspection of me.

“I’m tired,” I say, which could be the description of my life since February 14th. “I did it all by myself.” I gesture to him. “I mean, you helped, which is amazing. You’re amazing. But this took over my whole life, and for what?”

At that moment, Mr. Alvarado shows up, calling my name. He’s grinning brightly, with a hop in his step. “Cassandra, this is great!” When I meet his handshake, he uses it to pull me in for a hug. “Wonderful, just wonderful.”

“It is,” I agree, folding my arms over my chest.

“I’m ecstatic we were able to put this together,” he says, and I roll my head over to Vince. He grunts out a laugh. Mr. Alvarado didn’t put any of this together.

“Yep.” I motion to the parking lot, where my dad’s car pulls up. “My parents are here. Gotta go.”

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