Page 33 of Wreck Me

Ginny downed half her cooled coffee in one gulp. With luck, the caffeine jolt would help her navigate the tricky conversation she’d initiated. “I’ll put it bluntly, because that’s what I do, but I don’t mean it bluntly, okay?”

He squirmed a little in the booth seat. “Okay.”

“I think you have shame connected to this house, either shame or a deep, deep sadness, or both. Some part of you, most likely an unconscious part, thinks you can erase it by erasing the house.”

Ginny waited for a reply, but Nico sat staring at her, unblinking. A range of emotions seemed to cross his features as his eyebrows lifted in surprise then lowered in anger, then relaxed.

Finally, he spoke. “Do you remember the photo where we’re all on the front porch, including my dad? It’s the only family photo in existence where he doesn’t look like a trapped and miserable tiger. That’s why I wanted the album so badly. I figure there had to have been a good side to him somewhere. That photo is the only proof.”

She could hear the long-ago heartbreak still reverberating in his voice. “What happened to him?”

He shook his head resignedly. “I’ve no idea. A few days after that photo was taken—Christmas day to be exact—he walked out for the last time.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He stared unblinking out the window as if he were once again watching his father walk away from the family down that very front path. She half expected to see his father’s receding form reflected in Nico’s black-glass pupils.

“I wasn’t sorry,” he said finally. “Him leaving was at the top of my Christmas wish list that year. That sealed Santa for me. I’ll always be a believer.”

“I see,” Ginny said, nodding slowly as she took this in. “But you’re not your father.”

“Aren’t I? All my life people told me I was ‘just like my dad.’ They never told my brother that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe you look more like him?”

He laughed ruefully. “We’re identical twins. And anyway, they’re right. Vince is happily married, but I get bored easily in relationships, and I end up hurting people. When I do date, I'm up front that it’s only for fun and won’t be long-term. For my honesty, I’m labeled a player, which is exactly what he was. But that’s not what it is for me.”

Ginny let out a sharp little laugh. “Ha! I’m never more than two seconds from being bored out of my skull, so I can respect that. Was it hard on your mom when your dad left, or was she glad too?”

“It was hard. If she hadn’t had Vince and me, his leaving would have killed her. She tried not to show it, but we all knew, especially around Christmas. That was the worst time of year for her. All my young life, I thought it was all my fault for making my wish.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Yeah. I'm still not a big fan of the season. I try to travel overseas to some country where there isn’t fake snow and reindeer in every shop window.”

He sipped at his coffee, not looking at her, and Ginny sensed he’d come to the end of whatever it was he felt prepared to tell her. She finished off her mug and set it down with a clink. “About you borrowing the album?—"

His eyes re-animated as he caught her gaze. “I wouldn’t need it for long. A few hours.”

She shook her head. “No, of course you can take it. It’s yours. Heck, burn that photo of your dad if you want. Burn the whole album. No, I was just wondering—are you planning to show it to someone? Your brother?”

His face flushed, though she couldn’t tell if it was out of embarrassment or sadness. “My mother. She has dementia. I read that seeing old possessions can help a person to remember things. It’s been several visits since she recognized me and…”

Ginny reached over the table to touch his hand briefly. “I understand. But if you think seeing old fuzzy pictures of her house could jog her memory, how about bringing her to the real thing?”

“What?”

“I mean, I’ve already gone and decorated her house like a Ye Olde Placard Homestead re-enactment. Why not immerse her in the very past you want her to remember?”

16

“It’s not every day a nice young man shows up to take an old broad like me out for the day,” Nico’s mother said from the passenger seat as they inched forward in heavy traffic.

Hearing his own mother refer to him as some generic young man was a slap to Nico’s soul, but he was determined not to lose hope. At least she’d been willing to get into the car of someone who was, to her, a total stranger. Otherwise, Ginny’s experiment would have failed before it began. He kept his tone light. “I’ve taken you out before, but we usually go to Vince and Sarah’s place.”

She patted the leather upholstery. A simple gold band still encircled her ring finger. “And what a fancy car.” She wiggled in the seat. “It’s comfy too.”

She seemed in unusually high spirits, which he took as a good sign. Her eyes and speech even had some of their former quickness. Before leaving the nursing home, she’d insisted on having her short, permed hair brushed, and had asked the nurse’s aide to pick a nice outfit. The loose, blue, gingham-checked dress with an embroidered, Peter Pan collar was new,and exactly her homey, no-nonsense style. The aide had picked out a light green, cashmere sweater to go with it, which brought out her eyes.

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