Page 89 of Friend Me

27

When I walkedin the door that night, Sylvia and Dad sat at the kitchen table in front of a children’s puzzle—one of my old ones—with pieces almost the size of my palm. Sylvia had told me that doing puzzles would help Dad’s memory. And yet, I hadn’t remembered to buy him any.

Sylvia looked up from the puzzle and smiled. “You’re home early.”

“Uh-huh.” I slipped out of my heels. I wanted a shower. And sweatpants. And ice cream. In that order. But I bent to kiss Dad’s temple. “Hey, Dad. Where’d you find this old thing?” My heart twinged when I saw the picture on the front: Beauty and the Beast, dancing alone in the ballroom.

“Sylvia found it when she was looking for Maggie.”

I looked up at her, alarmed.

She shook her head. “Your mama’s picture.” Then she pointed up at the wall behind me. “Found her, too.”

I looked behind me, and sure enough, my mother had been restored to her place on the wall. “Where?”

She nudged a puzzle piece toward Dad. “Under his pillow.”

A tiny piece of my heart broke off. Even after more than twenty years, he missed her so much.

“Done!” Dad snapped the last piece into place.

“That’s great. I’ll get you another one. Promise.” I’d go out on my lunch break and buy it from one of the expensive tourist places if I had to.

“Eh, this one’s okay,” he said. “I’ll probably have forgotten by tomorrow.”

A bigger chunk of my heart fell off at that. Now I really needed that ice cream. With fudge sauce.

Sylvia had nursed any number of dementia patients, but her face drooped, too.

“Do you want to go home early?” I asked. “I can handle him now that I’m home.”

“If you’re sure?” She rose from her chair.

“I’ve got it from here. Have a good night.”

She gathered her things and left. I locked the door and leaned against it.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

“Wrong? Nothing.”

He beckoned me over, and I sat next to him as I had my whole life.

“I may be losing my marbles, but I can tell when my Sunshine goes dim. Something’s bothering you. Is it that boy with the car? Tanner?”

“Tyler.” I slumped in my chair. Now I was fourteen again and telling him about my first crush. He’d never been any help with boy-girl stuff. His relationship with my mother had been flawless, and he knew nothing about having his heart broken.

But I told him. I told him about my crush on Cooper, trying to make him jealous with my friend, and then about my friend’s developing feelings for me that I hadn’t been ready to reciprocate until it was too late. How Tyler had told me he deserved more.

“Why did I screw it up so bad?”

His eyes were clear when he said, “I think I gave you an unrealistic view of relationships.”

“No, Dad. You showed me what a relationship should be.” I started to break up the puzzle, starting with the flowing hem of Belle’s golden ball gown.

He put a hand over mine, stopping my busy fingers.

“When I met your mother, I was still a young man. Younger than you are now. I had a job, spending money, friends. We’d drink beers after work. Maybe do a little—” He made a smoking gesture with his thumb and index finger.

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