Letters to Nowhere(69)

“And what happened when Jordan came along?” I asked. “Did you raise him in the gym, too?”

Bentley laughed again. “Jordan was the one we planned. Anna did everything in advance, from putting Jordan’s name on every early admissions list for preschool to college funds and interviewing nannies, to picking the best month to conceive.” Bentley coughed and cleared his throat. I could feel my face heating and I hoped we weren’t going to get into any conception details today. Preferably never. “Anyway, she just knew we were going to have a boy. Everything in his room was blue and green before the end of the first trimester.”

There was nothing shaky or emotional about Bentley’s storytelling and recollection of the past. His tone was identical to the one he used in the gym every day, but I could see the ghosts swarming him like he hadn’t spoken about these two people for a very long time, not to mention his parents being gone, too.

“Green and blue, huh?”

Bentley and I turned around quickly and saw Jordan leaning against the door, arms folded across his chest, his school tie still knotted perfectly like he’d just walked through the door. His eyes stormed with something I hadn’t seen on Jordan before…anger? Maybe rage?

Bentley got to his feet and I stayed on the floor, the first album still on my lap.

“I seem to recall a conversation a couple months ago…” Jordan walked closer to his dad, his arms dropping to his sides, hands balling into fists and then opening again. He was pissed. Really pissed. “Where you told me that you would have my head—literally—if you caught me looking through those albums or messing with any of your stuff.”

Bentley rubbed his hands over his face and then looked at Jordan. “I thought it would be easier for both of us, with you living at home again. I know how you used to spend so much time looking at those pictures—”

“When I was a bad, trouble–making kid, right?”

This was like a horrible train wreck, and I couldn’t bring myself to look away. And both Bentley and Jordan were blocking my way to the door. I was stuck here witnessing this domestic battle.

“That’s what you think, isn’t it?” Jordan challenged. “You think looking at pictures of my dead mom and my dead sister are going to make me fall apart and…and what? Rob a bank? Do drugs?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bentley snapped.

“You’re going to hold me accountable for stuff I did when I was f*cking thirteen? And you were such a loving, devoted father…I don’t see how I could have gone to the dark side.”

Oh boy…I need out of here. Now.

Bentley folded his arms across his chest, his face set and tense, but he didn’t move. He was going to let Jordan finish speaking or throwing his teenage tantrum.

Jordan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was using some anger management technique. This was not the sweet, lighthearted Jordan I knew.

“You know what really kills me,” Jordan said, anger and emotion spilling from his voice. “You’ve got all those memories locked up, and I’ve accepted that maybe you just can’t fill in the blanks for me, and then you go and tell Karen stuff I’ve never heard you talk about before.”

Bentley’s face turned from stiff to sympathetic. “Jordan, listen—”

“Maybe you don’t want to remember them, but I do.” He turned around and strode toward the door. “I’ll be at Tony’s.”

Bentley let out a breath and stormed after Jordan. I figured I could sneak upstairs, but only made it to the landing before their yelling stopped me.

“Don’t f*cking touch me!” Jordan said.

I glanced down for a second and saw Jordan shove his dad back. I held my breath, waiting for somebody to throw a punch. Did relatives do that? But that was the end of their fight. Jordan walked out the door and slammed it hard. Then Bentley stomped through the house, heading out the back and slamming that door.

I let out a breath and felt my hands and legs shaking. Then I went into my room and shut the door before I could get caught in the middle of more of their drama if they returned anytime soon. I had seen the tension, of course I’d seen it, but I had had no idea how bad it was.

And poor Jordan. He must hate me. I thought back to everything he’d said to me over the past few months, and it wasn’t just his mom and his sister he wanted to learn about. It was his dad, too. That awkward day at the store when we had shopped for tampons, he’d looked so nervous before he finally asked me what his dad was like.

And Bentley, he probably ached inside every time he thought about Jordan being here without his mom and sister and grandparents. If it hurt for me to think about, I couldn’t imagine what it did to Bentley. No wonder he didn’t like to talk about them with Jordan. Talking to me about them was different. I was a neutral party, because I didn’t know the people he’d lost.

But Jordan needed him, and it was Bentley’s job to figure out how to connect with his son. He’s the adult. Jordan’s the kid. In the gym, coaching us girls, Bentley always got that right. Why couldn’t he get it right with his own kid?

It didn’t help that they both appeared to be extremely stubborn.


March 30

Jordan,




We haven’t done the thing where you’re upset and I’m supposed to help you through it, so please tell me what to do? Should I call you? Should I leave you alone? I really wish I knew. And I’m afraid that you’re mad at me. I should have shut the album and not messed with it. I’m sorry.