Page 46 of Opening Strain

Jenna blows her hair out of her eyes. “How about I take a photo? Speaks a thousand words.”

Faith replies, “Good thought.”

The server arrives and Faith asks him to take a photo of all threeof us, which he obliges. Drink and meal orders given, he disappears. Jenna taps on her phone, then places it on top of the table. “Sent.”

I remember Jenna telling me she and her sister aren’t close on account of the fact she’s ten years older, married, and lives in the City with her two kids. I address Faith. “What does Kara do?”

“She’s an anesthesiologist in Manhattan. Her husband’s a cosmetic surgeon.”

My eyebrows raise. “Health care is in your family’s blood.”

Faith preens. “Sure is.” She taps Jenna. “My little Jenna already has two physical therapy clinics and is working on another. I’m so proud of her.”

Faith’s obvious pride in her daughter’s accomplishments is in stark contrast to how my own mother is with me. For a moment, I long for such a loving relationship. In my next breath, I shut it down. It is what it is—no use in wanting something I’ll never have.

After the server delivers our drinks and leaves a bread basket, Faith asks, “So tell me, Bennett. How did you come to be part of Untamed Coaster?”

Her question makes the tips of my ears heat. Do I tell her the version we share with the media or give her more of the real scoop? I don’t know what Jenna’s told her, so I start with the sanitized version.

“It all started when we worked together at an amusement park ages ago. We met because we were assigned to a rollercoaster ride called Untamed Coaster. Formed a lifelong bond and here we are today.”

Like magic. No problems. No difficulties to overcome. Except she knows we lost Darren.

Jenna doesn’t let my story stand. “Now, Bennett, that’s not the full extent of it. I remember Darren telling me he had to practically beg you to drop out of high school and join the band.”

Yup. Like that, I slink lower on Faith’s ranking scale. Her daughter’s an anesthesiologist, her son-in-law’s a cosmetic surgeon, her other daughter owns two—soon-to-be three—physical therapy clinics. Me? I’m the deadbeat dropout rock star at the table. Wonderful.

“Seems to me you made a good decision,” her mother says. Her eyes are clear and steady. She’s not lying.

“I’d like to think so.” I fiddle with the fork at my place setting. “I got my GED, though. The band all got into prepping me.”

Jenna tucks her hair behind her ear. “I can only imagine how Darren helped. What was his specialty? Annoying teachers? Music theory?” She pauses. “How about creative writing.” The gleam in her eyes extinguishes as she travels down this dark path.

I decide to lighten them up again. “No, he was a hardass over history.”

Jenna sits back. “History?”

“Yup. He used to hold up the GED study guide and quiz me on dates. He did this for hours. He didn’t know a single one of them himself, but he made sure I knew them. I remember he used to make up songs for the major battles of the Revolutionary and Civil Wars.” I chuckle, still able to hear echoes of his crazy lyrics.

Faith joins me with a light laugh. “I can only imagine. Did he have one for the Gettysburg Address?”

I tilt my head. “All I remember is ‘Four score and seven years, oh what the heck time is that? Who talks like that anyway? Guess it doesn’t matter cause Abe boy said it. Oh-ah.’”

All three of us are laughing when our server delivers our meals. Before we dig in, Faith wipes a tear from her eye. “‘Abe boy’?”

I shrug. “Darren liked to personalize historic figures. George Washington was Georgie. Martin Luther King, Jr. was Marty.” More laughter, even from Jenna. It feels good to talk about Darren without having such a dark cloud associated with his name.

Faith regains her composure. “So Darren convinced you to drop out of high school to join the band. What did your parents think?”

My good humor is short-lived. I pick up my fork. “My dad had passed away a few weeks before. My mom and I aren’t too close, so she didn’t mind.”

Faith’s smile falls off her face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was a difficult time forall of you.”

I need to right this ship. Without looking at Jenna, I say, “Well, over a decade has passed. I’ve always taken care of my mother, so I think she forgives me.” For cutting out of town, sure. Not for the other. Never for that. I lean on my forearms. “The guys and I get together and play music. We’ve added Tristan on keys, but otherwise, we’re still the same group who got together and played since high school. Except now we have fans.”

Nice whitewash. No mention of the groupies. Or boasting about our platinum records and awards. We all dig into our meals. The flavors are delicious.

Jenna swallows. “Darren used to say UC was a cohesive unit. Don’t you all still hang out even when you’re not performing? He said you were the quintessential band of brothers who also rocked the house.”

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