So Much More(69)

A sigh whooshes out of me like an angry gust of wind. Maybe I don’t have the patience to have this conversation after all and should’ve gone to bed. I close my eyes to ward off the beginnings of an argument and simply say, “No.”

“But, it would make life easier for everyone. You could get rid of your rent payment and save some money. And we could all be together.”

For a split second she makes sense: convenience, save money. But then I come to my senses, and we could all be together rings like an alarm. “No, Miranda. You need to get your own place. And I need to stay here.”

“I’m trying, Seamus,” she says softly.

“I know you are.” It doesn’t sound convincing. I don’t have it in me tonight to sound convincing.

“Why aren’t you?” she asks.

I’m too tired to decode. “Why am I not what?”

“Trying,” she says it as if she’s justified in asking. She’s pointing a self-righteous finger at me with that one little word.

“That’s my goddamn life, Miranda. Trying,” I say it louder than I should. “Trying to be a good dad. Trying to be a good counselor. Trying to be a good person. Trying to be patient and accepting of my body, and this disease.” I could go on and on. “That’s what life is, it’s f*cking trying. You don’t get a medal for it. It’s expected, as a member of the human race, that you try.”

She’s good at keeping her mask on, but I know that’s not what she wanted to hear. “Think about the kids. They’re thriving with all of us under one roof again.”

I shake my head. “They’re thriving because they’re happy to have two parents who are engaged in their lives. It’s all they’ve ever wanted. Hell, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Propinquity isn’t driving the parent-child relationship, effort is. Effort can be made successfully from two houses divided by miles, especially if it’s a handful of miles instead of hundreds.”

She’s thinking, not about what I just said, but about what she’s going to say next.

I stand before she decides to continue the debate. “I need you out this weekend. Goodnight.”

I know this will turn into a fight, not an arguing match, but quiet evasion. She’ll stay, hoping I’ll cave to avoid confrontation—the passive aggressive approach. I mastered passive aggressive for years, so I know it when I see it. I’m prepared to put her shit in my car and drive her to a hotel myself. I’ll show her how aggressive this pacifist can get.





I see myself in you





present





“Faith, can I speak to you for a minute?” Benito asks as I’m mopping the floor of the dining hall.

“Of course. What’s up?” I’m worried that because I got a job yesterday, they’re going to ask me to leave. But I can’t find a place to live until I save up some money.

“I hear you got a job yesterday?” he asks.

“I did. Waitressing evenings at a diner. I start at five tomorrow.” Please don’t ask me to leave. Please don’t ask me to leave.

He smiles his big, gentle grin and I relax into it. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“And because you’re already working, I understand if you decline my offer. I’m opening up a bakery with my brother in a few weeks. It’s always been a dream of his.” He smiles as if the thought makes him happy. “I would like to hire you.”

“Pardon me?” I only ask because I need time to calm my excitement.

His smile grows as I’m unable to contain mine. “I want to hire you.”

“I would love to, but I don’t know how to bake. Except bread pudding. Oh, and chocolate dump cake, I can make a mean chocolate dump cake.” I’m rambling, so I stop.

He’s laughing quietly. “My brother is the baker, he’ll stay back in the kitchen. He needs someone friendly and competent to run the front end, selling goods to customers, both walk-in and phone orders. His wife will work Monday through Wednesday. Your schedule would be Thursday through Sunday from five in the morning until two in the afternoon. Does that sound like something you’d like to do?”

My head is nodding very fast. “Yes. Yes! Yes, please. Thank you. Thank you so much.” And before I know it I’m hugging him, which makes him laugh harder.

“No. Thank you, Faith. One more thing, I live with my brother. He and his wife rent out a few rooms in their home. They set up the basement like a co-op. There are three small bedrooms, so you would have your privacy; and a community living room, kitchen, and bathroom that you would share with two other tenants. They charge four hundred dollars a month, but that includes utilities. They have a room opening up this weekend. If you’d like to check it out, I can give you the address. No pressure, but if you like it, it’s yours.”

I’m waiting for the punchline. I’m waiting for him to tell me this is a joke. But I guess the joke is I don’t have four hundred dollars. I shrug. “That’s so kind of you, but I don’t have the money. It will take me a week or two to earn that much.”

His face softens at my admission. “I know you don’t. My brother is aware of your current living situation and is willing to let you move in and pay him when you’re able.”