Page 25 of The Night We Lost Him

“Because there was nothing to tell. Your father and I discussed it and he wanted me to run out whether a sale was worth pursuing, so that’s what I did.”

“And?” Sam says.

“And he ultimately decided it wasn’t what he wanted to do,” Joe says. “He changed his mind—”

“No. This went further than that.”

“Until it didn’t, Sam,” Uncle Joe says. His tone sharp.

Then, as if hearing himself, Joe takes a deep breath and stands up, heads to the serving cart. He reaches for a pitcher of lemonade, pours three glasses.

Joe turns, hands me a glass. “How did he get you involved in this little mission anyway?”

“That’s not exactly what I’m here about.”

“No?”

“Sam actually came to me with some concerns about Dad…”

I feel Sam’s eyes drilling into me, and I look over at him. He shakes his head no, quickly. I don’t know how to challenge him on why we can’t talk to Joe about our father’s last night, at least not in front of Joe, so I drop the point, change tack.

I clear my throat. “Did Dad seem off to you? The last few months?”

“What do you mean by ‘off’?”

“Distracted,” Sam says. “Distant.”

Uncle Joe shakes his head. “I didn’t get that,” he says.

“Oh, come on,” Sam says. “Something was going on with him.”

Joe sits back down. He looks down, as though he is actually considering what Sam is suggesting, like he is trying to remember anything he may have missed about what my father was struggling with, what maybe he hadn’t wanted to see.

But I can see it, beneath his neutral stare. His Adam’s apple, the vein in his neck, pulsing. Like he is having trouble staying calm himself. Like he is stalling until he can figure out what he’s willing to say.

“I’ve got to say, Sam,” Joe says. “I think you are seeing something in hindsight that wasn’t there.”

“Really?” Sam says.

“Really.”

“Then you’re not telling the truth.”

Joe puts his drink down, leans forward toward Sam, toward both of us.

“Guys, can we just let this lie, please? Whatever you’ve convinced yourself was going on with him, why does it matter now? The company’s yours and Tommy’s now, Sammy. All’s well that ends well. And your father loved you…” He looks over at me. “He loved you all very much. I love you too. It was never about punishing you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sam asks.

“It means stop making something out of nothing. I know you’re in pain. I’m in pain too. And I’m not going to pretend that I always understood your father’s choices. But the priority for your father was that you guys were going to be taken care of.”

“What choices, Joe?” Sam says.

“I’m talking generally.”

“Can you be less general?” I ask. “What choices didn’t you understand?”

Joe shakes his head. “I’m not going to excavate the past with you. It has nothing to do with anything.”

---