Part 34 (2/2)

I sat back and took a deep breath. ”For the first time in my life, Dad, I want to be ... more. Not just the band, though that's part of it. She ... makes me want to be a better person. I love how smart she is. Her integrity. Her compa.s.sion. And the s.e.x is out of this world.”

”I don't want to hear about that,” he interrupted.

”Yeah, well. Anyway, that's what happened. I told her I loved her. And she ... just ran.”

He leaned forward, close, and looked me in the eyes. ”You've told me all about you. What about her, Dougal? What do you want for her?”

I swallowed. ”I want her to be happy. I want her to ... I want to see a smile on her face. Always.”

”This is going to sound like a cliche, kid. And it sucks like nothing else in the world. But if you love her ... you have to give her what she needs. Even if that means letting her go.”

Oh, d.a.m.n. I thought about my mom and dad, holding each other in the door, heads bowed together, as tears streamed down her face. I thought about how much it must have hurt for him to let her go. And this time my eyes did water.

”Dad, you suck.”

”Yeah. Sometimes the truth sucks.”

”I don't want to lose her, Dad. No one has ever meant this much to me.”

”Then do the right thing. Do the thing she needs. And maybe she'll come to you. If she doesn't ... well ... it wasn't meant to be.”

Both of us started when the doorbell rang.

”Enough of this moping s.h.i.+t,” he said. ”I'm leaving for Kuwait tomorrow, in case you missed it. This is our last family dinner for a while. Go get the door, it's probably your mother.”

”All right.” My dad got up, turned the heat back on under the pots on the stove, and I walked out of the kitchen. I paused in the doorway. ”Dad?”

”What?” he answered, in an annoyed tone. That was the dad I knew and loved.

”Thanks.”

”Get the h.e.l.l out of here and get the door,” he said in a gruff voice.

I walked to the door and opened it.

If there were flies in Boston in the cold at the end of November, one could have flown right in my mouth and settled in for a nice stay. Because it wasn't my mom at the door. It was Julia, wrapped up in her red and black checked coat, a m.u.f.fler around her throat, cap on her head.

I just stood there, gaping.

Her eyebrows moved together, forming that crease in her forehead she sometimes gets before calling me names. ”Are you going to invite me in, or what?”

Automatically, I stepped away from the door. ”Come in.”

She walked in and peeled off her scarf and coat. ”Heater's out in the stupid rental car.”

”What are you doing here?” I asked.

She looked at me, our eyes meeting just long enough to break my heart. Then she said, ”Your brother and dad have treated me like family. Like ... like my family never did. Whatever happens between us, I ... I wouldn't not show up.”

”Can we talk later?”

She closed her eyes and said in a near monotone, ”There's nothing to talk about, Crank.”

Then she handed me her coat and walked into the kitchen.

d.a.m.n it.

I wanted to walk in there and grab her arm and ask her what the h.e.l.l was she thinking? I wanted to demand answers. I wanted to insist she tell me why the h.e.l.l it bothered her so much to have someone say those three little words. Words I'd never in my life said to a woman, except for my mother.

But then I heard my dad say, ”Hey, kiddo,” to her. I walked to the kitchen door and glanced in. He was hugging her like she was a daughter. I stepped back, out of sight, then took her coat to the closet and hung it up. My dad called upstairs, ”Sean! Julia's here!” as if there had been no blow up before, no discussion, no heartfelt confessions. I went up the stairs. If Sean had his headphones on or was playing a game, he wouldn't hear.

As I suspected, he was sitting at his computer, headphones on. I knocked on the doorframe and waved at him. He popped one earphone off and I said, ”She's here.”

He nodded then popped the headphones back on.

Whatever. I wasn't in the mood to chase him too.

The doorbell rang again. That would be either Mrs. Doyle or my mother. For years, Dad had been hosting Sat.u.r.day night dinners for anyone who would come. This week, it was Sunday, in honor of the fact that he wasn't going to be here next week, or any week in the near future. Tony would be here tonight for sure.

It was my mom. ”Hey, Mom,” I said. I still felt ... very awkward. She was moving back into the house after her lease ran out in January and had promised to be around before then. But five years of anger and disappointment didn't just disappear. We were making small strides by being in the same room together.

She hugged me, awkwardly. A few minutes later, Tony arrived and announced it was okay to start the party, and not long after that Mrs. Doyle joined us.

Finally, everyone was seated at the table, and dad was serving, and it felt like every other Sat.u.r.day night. Except that every once in a while, I felt like I had eyes on me, and I'd glance to Julia, and she was always looking somewhere else. Except once, I caught her and our eyes met, and I swallowed, trying to keep from jumping out of my chair, because looking in her eyes was bringing out the worst in me. Especially because, despite the fact that she was smiling and laughing with everyone, something about it seemed fake. The laughter didn't reach her eyes.

I wanted it to. More than anything, I wanted her to be happy.

Dad was right, but as I looked at her, I realized there was one thing he forgot. It was one thing to let her go. Okay. I could buy that. It was right. If she was going to be happier, then fine, I could live with it, even if it tore my heart out. But I wasn't going to let her go without telling her exactly how I felt.

After we finished, my dad cleared his throat, a sound that made me wince, and then he stood up. ”All right, everybody pipe down a second.”

Tony balled up a napkin and threw it at my dad. Dad made a fist, sticking one finger out and pointing it at Tony. ”You too, bub.”

We all quieted, and I watched my dad.

”All right. I want to say a couple things to you. But first, Crank's got some news. You want to tell them?”

What. The. h.e.l.l? He seriously wanted me to announce that Julia and I had broken up? In front of everyone? I looked around, desperate, my eyes darting to Julia, and she flushed, her face going red. Then I saw some sense. What the h.e.l.l? It was a measure of just how screwed up I was over Julia that the biggest news of my life had been overshadowed by her.

I took a deep breath. ”Okay, so this week Julia took over managing the band.”

Tony let out an obnoxious cheer and I said, ”That wasn't really the news.”

”Huh,” Tony said and took a long drink of his beer.

”The news is, on Friday, she negotiated a recording contract. A big one. We're opening for Allen Roark on his summer tour.”

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