The Romantics(33)

The second they got in the door, Gael’s dad started asking them stupid questions about the zoo without letting up. First, he requested a detailed description from Piper of every freaking exhibit she’d seen. Then, after learning that Piper had arranged the scavenger hunt, he showered them with boatloads of praise all around and demanded to see the videos.

And now, while they were sitting down to family dinner, while Gael was trying with all his might not to think about how mind-numbingly strange it still was to be having Sunday dinner in a shitty apartment with the fourth chair at the ugly table conspicuously empty, while all of that was rushing through his head, his dad could not stop asking about the zoo.

“You still haven’t answered, Gael. What was your favorite part?” His dad smiled his stupid fake smile and ran a hand through his stupid sandy hair and then cocked his head to the side, waiting.

Of course his dad had cheated, Gael thought. Even Gael could admit he was good-looking for an old guy, with his runner physique and his full head of hair and all that. Once, Gael had read the student reviews on one of those professor-rating sites, and no fewer than three people had complimented Professor Brennan on more than his lecture skills.

That’s why his mom was in the house and his dad was in this shithole.

That’s why what had seemed so good between his parents had suddenly just . . . imploded.

“I’m not, like, eight,” Gael spat.

“Hey,” Piper said, a bit of turkey chili dripping down her chin. “Eight’s a good age.”

“It sure is, Pipes,” his dad said, taking her chin in his hand and wiping off the mess. He looked to Gael. “And there’s no age too old to enjoy something like the zoo.”

Gael set his spoon down. “Well, then maybe you should take her next time. Maybe we should all go together, like we used to. Oh wait, we can’t.”

His dad shook his head and looked down at his bowl, but Piper just scrunched her eyebrows. “Why can’t we?” she asked genuinely.

“Because Mom and Dad aren’t together anymore,” Gael said. “When are you going to get that through your head?”

Piper’s bottom lip puffed out, and her eyes began to water.

“Gael,” his dad snapped. “Stop it.”

Gael scooted out of his chair and stood up. “What? Both you and Mom have totally misled her. She thinks this is just all going back to normal once you guys make up. Well, you’re not going to, that’s obvious, and she might as well know that.”

“Yes they will!” Piper yelled. “You don’t know anything!” She seethed as she looked at him. “I hate you!”

Gael felt her words deep in his gut. His dad rushed to console Piper, but Gael wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

“I didn’t do this. You did,” Gael said, and then he stomped out of the room and to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Gael, in his anger, was desperate for some confirmation, for further proof. He began to rifle through all two of the bathroom’s cabinets, under the sink, and in the shower. He wanted something that would prove his theory. Maybe he’d find the girl’s brush or razor, like in a movie. Or a pot of lip gloss or . . . or something.

Finally, after a second examination of the medicine cabinet, his eyes caught a flash of pink behind the Advil.

Gael moved the bottles out of the way. A hot pink toothbrush. A ladies’ one, no doubt. With a nice little case covering the top part. He pulled it out and popped open the case. It wasn’t dry as a bone. It had been used, and recently.

His dad’s toothbrush was electric, and it was sitting on the counter, next to Gael’s and Piper’s.

Between the phone calls and the bullshit “office hours” and this, there was no way Gael could deny it. His dad had cheated on his mom. His dad was having an affair.

Still, as much as he wanted to, Gael couldn’t bring himself to run back in the room and confront his dad, not in front of Piper. She didn’t deserve more pain, even if his dad did.

And so Gael went back to his stupid room and slammed the stupid door and tried not to listen to the sound of Piper crying through the stupid thin walls.





clueless


On a scale of everything’s awful to not so bad at All, Gael was definitely leaning toward the former by the end of school on Monday. Between his fight with his dad and Piper and the discovery of the toothbrush, any remotely happy feelings from the weekend had completely disappeared. On Sunday night, he’d apologized to Piper (but not to his dad—he didn’t think his dad deserved much of anything these days), and around nine they’d driven back home.

He and Cara had made plans to grab coffee after her last class on Monday. It was the one thing that had gotten him through the day—he’d even caved and agreed to go to Starbucks to please her. He didn’t care if she’d been a little annoying at the zoo. He needed her now more than ever.

But after school, as he pulled up to his house that afternoon, he got a text from Cara:

last-minute group project, can we reschedule?

Gael looked at the clock on his dash. It was 3:20 P.M. They were supposed to get coffee at 3:30. Last minute, indeed.

He wrote back: sure, tomorrow?

He watched as she typed her reply. Paused. Typed again.

(The beautiful irony was, I’d planned on manufacturing a reason to prevent Cara from going, but she beat me to it. Frankly, she was still a little pissed at him. Her idea had been to invite him along with her new friend to slow it down a bit so she could keep her October vow, not to babysit Gael’s kid sister while he hung out with another girl. Cara didn’t even like kids that much. She’d only invited Gael’s sister because she’d felt bad.)