Mrs. Fletcher(44)

*

I wasn’t planning on going into my whole family history at the meeting, but Amber just sort of coaxed it out of me. After a while I forgot about the other people in the room. It was just me talking and Amber listening.

I told her how my father had invited himself to Parents Weekend, catching me totally off-guard. I thought that was a great idea—I hadn’t seen him since the week before I left for school—but said he’d have to work it out with my mom, because she was planning on coming, too, and they didn’t usually do stuff like that together.

I’ll talk to the boss, he said. Throw myself on the mercy of the court.

I have no idea how he managed it, but he called a week later and said he’d gotten the thumbs-up. The plan was for my dad to come on his own, because it didn’t make any sense to bring Jon-Jon to an event like Parents Weekend. He hated long car rides, responded badly to new environments, and was often freaked out by unfamiliar faces. It would be easier for everybody if he stayed home with his mom and followed the usual routine. Easier for everybody except Bethany, I guess.

It’ll just be us guys, my dad said. Maybe we can go to the football game. If Zack wants to join us, he’s more than welcome.

Zack was totally up for that. He and my dad had talked on the phone a few times, and Zack told everybody what a chill guy he was, way chiller than his own parents, who, he was happy to report, were staying home in Boxborough for the weekend. His little sister was competing in an Irish step dance competition, and that was a big deal in his house.

You ever see that shit, bro? It’s like these girls are all dancing with a stick up their ass, and smiling like it’s the best feeling in the world.

We had the whole day planned. Commandos game in the afternoon, barbecue on the quad for dinner, and then this student talent show that people raved about. They did it like American Idol, with these smart-ass professors acting as judges. Apparently, one of them was a total dick, just like Simon Cowell, and everybody loved him.

Who knows? Zack said. Maybe your dad’ll get drunk with us.

Yeah, right.

I’m serious, bro. You think he still smokes weed?

Dude, he’s not gonna smoke weed with us. Trust me.

We should take him to a party, Zack said. Maybe we could get him laid.

Don’t even go there, I said.

For the whole week leading up to Parents Weekend, that was the big joke in our room, all the wild shit we were gonna do with my dad. I knew none of it would happen, but it was fun to think about, and put us both in this goofy, stoked-up mood, like something big was about to happen.

And then, the day before Parents Weekend, I got the phone call.

Change of plans, he said. I’m really sorry.

You’re not coming?

No, no. I’m still coming. But I’m bringing the gang.

The gang?

Bethany and Jon-Jon.

Oh. What was I supposed to say? You couldn’t tell your dad not to bring his wife and kid. All right. Sure.

You okay with that?

I guess. I mean, I only have three tickets for the football game, and one of ’em is for Zack.

Yeah, he said. I’m not so sure about the football game. Think I can take a rain check?

*

They showed up around eleven on Saturday morning. I hadn’t seen Jon-Jon in about six months, and I almost didn’t recognize him. He was a lot bigger than I remembered. He was really cute, blond hair and blue eyes, and those long eyelashes that everybody who met him commented on. Bethany had dressed him in khakis and a button-down shirt and a little denim jacket. He looked like a model in a Gap Kids catalogue, but that wasn’t the main thing. He just seemed more together than the kid I remembered. He was actually looking in my general direction and not screaming his head off.

Look, Bethany told him. It’s your big brother. Brendan’s in college. This is where he lives. Why don’t you say hi to Brendan.

Jon-Jon took this all in.

Hello, he said, addressing the word to my knees. His voice was soft and mechanical, and the word sounded almost foreign, but still, he fucking said it.

Wow, I said.

I know. Bethany looked so happy. He’s doing great. We finally found the right school.

He was pretty good in the car, my dad added. Hardly complained at all.

They came in and I introduced them to Zack, who totally rose to the occasion, making small talk like an Eagle Scout. Jon-Jon was standing in the middle of the room, lost inside his head, while the rest of us chatted about how nice the dorms were compared to the ones my father and Bethany had lived in back in the day. It was the usual story—they got treated like shit and we got treated like kings.

I saw the lounge on the way in, my dad said. That’s a big TV!

And that communal kitchen, Bethany said. Jeez. I wouldn’t mind living here for a few months.

At some point, Jon-Jon took a couple of steps in my direction. I thought he was maybe gonna hug me or sit on my lap, but he was just coming to examine the fabric of the couch I was sitting on, the one Zack and I had found on the street at the beginning of the semester. It had a weird texture, kinda fuzzy but also a little slick—almost greasy—and Jon-Jon seemed fascinated by it. He reached out his hand, very slowly, and started stroking the armrest, as if it were a living thing. For a while, the conversation stopped, and we all just watched him.

I think he likes it here, Bethany told us.

*