Page 46 of Whatever Will Be

I pull two folded pieces of paper from my purse and set them on the table.

“I was worried about you, Dad.” I say this partly so he’ll quit firing questions at Trent.

He scratches at his oily gray hair. “Nah, you shouldn’t worry about me, Gretch. I was having some stomach trouble but that’s been sorted out now. I get the gluten free meals and they’re actually damn good.”

My face grows hot. “I meant I was worried about how you were dealing with Jules’s death.”

His shoulders drop. “That was a shock. Got called down to my case worker’s office right after breakfast. Man, you don’t expect to outlive any of your kids, that’s for damn sure. But I was told it was quick so that’s good. She didn’t suffer. And everyone’s been really great around here, even let me out of kitchen work for a couple of weeks. Hey, where’s Dan-O at today? I thought he was staying in Lake Stuart. Why didn’t he come visit? He never comes to visit.”

A man three tables over calls my father’s name. There’s a woman sitting at the table too and her pinched face reminds me of my mother. My father waves at them with enthusiasm.

“Hey, Wayne! So that’s the wife, huh? Nicely done.”

He gives the couple a thumbs up and then feels the need to explain to us that Wayne was married only recently. This is the first visit by Wayne’s new wife, whose name is Leslie. Leslie is from Vermont but she has moved to Syracuse to be near Wayne. Wayne is eligible for parole in eighteen months. Leslie will be waiting for him.

I shouldn’t have come here. I want to scream.

Trent finds my hand under the table and winds his fingers through mine.

“So you’re living in your old place,” my father says to Trent, returning to talk of Lake Stuart. “Seems like it was just last week your dad built it and moved to town. Thought he was going to turn out to be like the summer shitheads but he shaped up to be all right and so did you.”

Trent is unsure how to respond but he regards my father with obvious distaste.

“I took a drive up to Rosebriar recently,” Trent finally says.

I’m surprised. Trent has never mentioned this. I haven’t been up that hill at all since I was a child. I’ve never much cared about what I might find.

“God, I miss that place,” my father says with more feeling than when he was discussing his dead daughter. “Those years were a real golden age.”

“Looks like shit now,” Trent says. “It just rots away, year after year. Nothing but animals and shit and the stench of mold.”

I can see the observation disturbs my father. I think this is why Trent said it.

And I’m glad.

I’m glad because that lost wonderland always meant more to my father than we did.

“Your granddaughters drew these for you.” I push the folded papers across the table. “They’ve been shattered by their mother’s death. Their names are Mara and Caitlin.”

He picks up the papers and appears hurt. “I know their names. You think I’d forget that? Jules said maybe when they were a little bit older she’d bring them for a visit.”

“Well, Jules can’t do that now because Jules is dead.” The chair scrapes against the tile when I stand. “We have to go, Dad. It’s a long drive back to Lake Stuart and the girls need to be picked up.”

He unfolds the sheets of construction paper and frowns. “What the hell are these pictures supposed to be anyway?”

“Jules. They both wanted you to have pictures of their mother. They assumed you’d be heartbroken. Like they are.”

I almost walk out without a proper goodbye but then I swoop in and give him a quick hug, only because I know Jules would have wanted me to.

Once we’re in the parking lot, Trent slips an arm around my shoulder. I need more than that. I need some human contact from someone who isn’t a complete waste of oxygen. I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze.

“That sucked.” I press my face to his chest and inhale the spiced musk of his soap. “I have no idea how two disastrously selfish people like my parents made someone as wonderful as my sister.”

He hugs me back and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “They made you too. So they did more than one thing right.”

I want to kiss him so badly I can taste it. But the grim shape of the prison looms in the background and it’s a romance killer.

I step out of his arms. “It’s time for me to buy you lunch now.”

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