Funny Feelings (62)

“Not possible. And in a way, revealing your minuscule, arguably non-existent faults—let’s call them quirks, actually— makes me feel like we’re closer to even footing and makes me like you even more. Which I know you’re not supposed to admit as a well-adjusted adult trying to emanate good relationship skills— or just general mental stability—but I like being transparent with you.”

I laugh through my nose. “You’re not as unstable as you think. I believe you’re just more honest than most people are brave enough to be. Especially at your own expense, Fee.”

A wistful sound leaves her. “I haven’t… I haven’t always been.”

“Yeah, me either. Jones, I think I should—”

Hazel and my nephew Liam burst in, then. They’re goosing each other with elbows and excited glances when Hazel sees I’m on the phone.

“Is that Fee? Can we FaceTime her?”

“Fee, Hazel wants to know if we can FaceTime?”

“Yes! I miss her face!” She hangs up immediately and I nod with a grin to Hazel when the call comes through.

Hazel’s bouncing on her toes when I set the phone up next to me so Fee can see both kids.

“Do you want to hear a joke?” Haze asks, looking back and forth between me and the phone, Liam barely containing a laugh at her side.

“Sure,” I sign, and Fee likely does the same.

Hazel’s smile drops in a dramatic, practiced kind of way. “Me too.”

Liam howls. Fee wheezes a laugh that I peek around to see. She’s got a palm to her forehead, shakes her head merrily before she looks up and our gazes clash. Her teeth sink into her full bottom lip.

“Uncle Meyer. I have one too, I have one too!” Liam interjects.

“Your Mom is getting pretty liberal with the iPad again isn’t she?”

“Why did God make farts smell?” His brow furrows determinedly as he signs it, after.

I know this one, but I play along anyway. “Why?”

“So Deaf people can enjoy them too!” he signs back, polishing it off with an actual fart that Hazel follows with a perfectly timed plug of her nose.

Honestly, the laughter that ensues would make you think we just witnessed something revolutionary, rather than the polite chuckle these internet jokes deserve. But all their hysterical expressions manage to drag me into it, too. I’m holding my ribs by the time I’m through.

“Alright, Liam. Now that you’ve managed to hot-box my room why don’t you go see if Nana needs help with dinner.”

“Alright. What’s hot-boxing?”

“Ask your Mom. Also ask her where babies come from, and how the garage door really got that dent in it while you’re at it.” He throws me a quizzical look before he shuffles away.

“You want to talk to Fee for a bit, Haze?” I ask.

“Yes. You can stay though.”

“Thanks for your permission,” I laugh as she grabs Fee off of the nightstand and slides next to me against the headboard. She props the phone up on the lap desk.

“Are you having fun?” Fee asks.

“Yes, Aunt Melody let me do her makeup and I baked snickerdoodle cookies with Nana. Watched all the Mighty Ducks movies with Liam and Connor and they taught me some hockey stuff.”

“Is there still a lot of snow there?”

“Yes. But there’s a storm coming on Wednesday and Thursday so we’ll get even more!”

Fee’s brow furrows. “Aren’t you supposed to fly back home Wednesday?” she asks, looking my way now.

“Yes. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“The bus leaves on Thursday,” she reminds me, concern still tight in her expression.

“I know. It’ll be okay.” It has to be. I hope it is. Fee’s first performance is on Friday in Sacramento. “I’ll get there.”

And then I recall a memory from the day before when, after a long day of ice hockey, baking, snow shoveling, and a home full of people and noise, my dad doggedly promised Hazel to play Yahtzee for the hundredth time after dinner. Despite appearing to be asleep on his feet already.

I’d warned him, then, because I know how it feels to be desperate for bed, only to be reminded of one of those earlier deals. The guilt of reneging when you can’t bring yourself to come through.

“I’d be a little stingier with your promises, Pop.” I’d said.

“What’s WHAT?!” I hear my sister yelp from downstairs. “MEYER! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU TELL HIM TO ASK ME?!!”





28





NOW





FARLEY


“So what can I get you? Do you need an energy drink, a snack, a water? What’s your typical pre-show routine?” Clay asks. And I have the same desolate thought that I’ve been having for the last twelve hours. Since the last of my hope disappeared.

More specifically, my hope got stuck in Phoenix after miraculously making it out of both Cincinnati and Chicago in spite of the midwestern snowstorm, but still.

Fucking Phoenix. Two states away. But, after all flights were grounded until this morning, it’s the closest they could get Meyer to Sacramento, today, with the last leg tomorrow morning.

This cannot be happening.