Page 83 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

I wanted to say that we had failed in a crucial way to connect. Yet in so many ways, it felt like Shyanne and I, even though there were so many things we wanted and couldn’t have, were the lucky ones, and Jinx, who always did exactly what he wanted no matter who it hurt, had never managed to enjoy his life.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking over at me, his brown eyes sad as a noble dog’s.

“It’s all right,” I said. Because in the scheme of things, it had been. It was a relief, getting to ask these questions. I had always imagined my father as having these dark, unfathomable urges for sex, drugs, violence. It was better, in a way, to understand that what he really wanted and needed was for the pain and loneliness to ease. His behavior was still bad, but it was no longer so alien and frightening.

“So you’ll watch Bodhi while I go out to dinner with JB?”

Jinx nodded. “But I get to meet him first and make sure he’s not a psycho.”

“You can tell if someone’s a psycho upon meeting them?”

“Pretty much,” Jinx said. “I’ve known several.”

And I laughed. Because he really, really had.

There was no shortage of affordable hotels in Fullerton, partially because of the colleges, mostly because of the proximity to Disneyland. But JB had chosen an Airbnb. In his words, he was “physically unable not to.” It was a haunted mansion. He had forwarded me the listing, and I gasped at the price, nearly $400 a night. From the outside it looked like any normal house in Fullerton, cute and unassuming. Inside, everything was purple velvet and red silk, with low light and a plastic raven with glowing purple eyes, creepy portraits, and crystal balls. There was a “haunted gaming room” and a totally normal-looking outdoor hot tub. That was really the funniest part about the house, the contrast between its spooky interior and suburban exterior.

The day JB flew in, I was so excited and nervous it felt like I was outside my body. I had borrowed a green sundress from Suzie and kept sweating through the pits, so I had wads of toilet paper stuffed under my arms as I dashed around the house, making sure the sterilizer was running with Bodhi’s bottle things, digging through the laundry for a clean blankie. When the doorbell rang, I ran to answer and tripped in my strappy heels, face-planting on the carpet. “Jesus!” Jinx cried, as I lunged up from the floor like a whale breaching the water, desperate to get to the front door first.

I opened the door, knees stinging with rug burn, strands of my hair stuck to my lip gloss, toilet paper trying to climb out of the armpits of my dress, and there he was, just as nervous as me. He wasn’t as tall as I was expecting. His shoulders were broad, and he was solidly built, like if you whacked him in the torso, he would make a good sound. He was wearing a black button-down shirt and jeans and smelled like gum. But it was him. That was the main thing I felt: that I recognized him, that he was who I had been hoping he would be.

“Come in,” I said, gesturing. He was holding a bouquet of tiger lilies, the pink ones with freckles, still wrapped in crackly plastic from the supermarket. He held them out to me.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, and blushed. I felt like he was here to pick me up for a school dance.

“Is that JB?” Jinx boomed from the living room. I led JB in and introduced them. Jinx managed to deliver what looked like a cripplingly strong handshake while still holding Bodhi in his other arm. JB handled it well and called him “sir.”

I took Bodhi from my dad, even though I was already holding the flowers, and bounced him on my hip. “This is Bodhi,” I told JB, and JB reached for Bodhi’s tiny hand, then didn’t know if he was supposed to.

“Hey there,” he said, a little awkward. It was clear he didn’t know anything about babies.

“Let me get these in water,” I said, stomping into the kitchen like a giraffe in my heels. I was already reconsidering the shoes. I had assumed JB would follow. Jinx had started talking to him, and I kind of panicked and left him there. I couldn’t get my heart rate to a normal speed. I plopped Bodhi in his highchair while I arranged the flowers in a vase. I fished the toilet paper out of my armpits and tried to calm down.

Evidently JB passed Jinx’s cross-examination, and I was so keyed up I don’t even remember saying all of the goodbyes except that I kissed Bodhi about a million times, and then we were out the door. On our way down the stairs, I tripped, twisting my ankle, and went down hard. I knew it was bad the moment I finished falling down the stairs. I didn’t even try to get up.

“Oh shit!” JB cried, scurrying down to me.

“I’m okay,” I said, even though I knew I was not. I wasn’t even positive I could stand, my ankle was screaming.

“Do you want me to get your dad?” he asked. “Do you think you need to go to the doctor?”

I closed my eyes in anguish. I knew I could not go to the fancy restaurant where he’d made a reservation like this, and I was certain Jinx would be able to tell if my ankle was broken or only sprained; he was great with injuries. But I also knew if we went back up there our chances of having any date at all would drop to zero. I tried to stand and gasped when I put weight on my ankle.

JB grimaced.

“What if,” I said, “we go to the haunted mansion and just order in?”

“Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?” JB asked, gesturing at my ankle.

“If it’s broken it will still be broken tomorrow,” I said. “And I will cry if we don’t get to have this date. Please? Can we please just go to your place and order in?”

“Of course,” JB said, “obviously, obviously.” But he looked worried. “You want help walking?”

I nodded, and he dipped his shoulder so I could grab on while he braced me around the waist. We wobbled out to the parking lot to his rental car.

When we got to the haunted mansion, JB helped me to the door, then told me to wait while he disappeared inside. When he returned, he was pushing a desk chair with wheels. I plopped into it delightedly, and he gave me a rolling tour. It was very gaudy as haunted mansions go. There was a black light in the hallway that made eyes on the wallpaper glow. We settled in the sitting room, where flat screens hung in elaborate gilt frames were rigged so they displayed paintings that appeared to be moving. I transferred myself onto a velvet settee, and JB grabbed me some ice in a bag for my ankle, then plunked down beside me, and we huddled over his phone trying to decide what to order.

“Oh, I know what we should get,” he said. “This is so obvious!”

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