Tell Me Three Things(31)
As much as I’m not a huge fan, I’m starting to see why my dad was attracted to her. Despite being dealt the bad hand of widowhood, Rachel’s getting an A-plus at life. She’s successful and reasonably attractive and rich. But why did she marry my dad? He’s not ugly, as far as middle-aged men go, I guess, and he’s kind—my mom used to say she was the luckiest woman in the world to have found him and to have built her life on such a stable foundation—but I’d imagine there are a million men like him in LA who come with fewer complications and more of their own cash. Why did she have to pick my dad?
When my parents used to fight, I would slip away to my room and put on headphones. I didn’t listen, especially because I knew the fight would last for days—two or three at least—when both of them would use me to talk to each other, one of the downsides of being an only child: Jessie, tell your father he needs to pick you up from school tomorrow; Jessie, tell your mother that we are out of milk. They didn’t fight often, but when they did, it was explosive and unpleasant.
Everything passes, Jessie. Remember that. What feels huge today will feel small tomorrow, she once said, right after a big fight with my dad. I don’t remember what they were arguing about—maybe money—but I do remember that it ended out of nowhere, four whole days after it started, when both of them just looked at each other and started cracking up. I think about that often—not only how that fight broke, but what she said. Because I’m pretty sure she was wrong. Not everything passes.
“Let me just make something clear here.” My dad’s voice gets low and growly. He’s calm, almost too calm, which is what he does when he’s really angry. Runs cold. “I’m not some ignorant homophobic hick, so stop talking to me that way.”
“Bill!”
“Forget it. I’m going for a walk. I need air and to get far away from you,” my dad says, so Theo and I scramble quickly down the hall. Surely my dad knows they’ve been yelling, but better for him not to know about our front-row seats.
“Good. Go!” Rachel screams. “And don’t come back!”
—
I’m in Theo’s room now. I’ve only been in here once, when I told him about my new job, so I take advantage of the opportunity to look around. He doesn’t have anything on his walls, not a single framed picture on his desk. Not much to see. Apparently, he’s a minimalist, like his mother.
“You think they’re going to get a divorce?” Theo asks, and it surprises me that my heart sinks at the thought. Not because I particularly like living here, but because we have nothing to go back to. Our house is gone. Our Chicago lives. And if we were to stay in LA and move to some sad little apartment, my dad couldn’t afford to keep sending me to Wood Valley. I’d have to start again somewhere else. I’d have to say goodbye to my silly crush on Ethan, to my friendship with Dri and Agnes, to my whatever with SN. When Rachel told my dad to not come back, did she expect me to leave too? Are we kicked out?
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Would make things easier,” Theo says.
“For you, maybe. I have nowhere to go.”
“Not my problem.”
“No, it isn’t,” I say, and stand to leave. I’ve had enough of these people.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it. Was your dad going to call me a…Never mind.”
“He wouldn’t have. He’s not like that.”
“Whatever. Want to smoke up?” Theo reaches for his rolling papers.
“No thanks. And for real, he wouldn’t have called you anything bad.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I know my dad. He was going to say flamboyant. Which, come on, you kind of are,” I say, and wonder if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. I hold eye contact with Theo, to let him know that I am not trying to be hurtful, just honest.
“I knew in, like, kindergarten that I’m gay, so I figure I should own it, you know? Give the people what they want,” Theo says, and starts digging through his drawers. “No one should be spared my fabulousness.”
“Lucky us,” I say, but I smile. I’m starting to have a new appreciation for Theo. He approaches life with manic enthusiasm, an antidote to most of Wood Valley’s laconic teenagerness. There’s a layer of kindness underneath him too, and he’s authentic in his own over-the-top way.
“So who are you texting with all the time?” he asks, and again it occurs to me that he could be SN. Maybe he wanted to help me without having to face our bizarro new family situation. Maybe I’ve misinterpreted; maybe SN’s flirtation was actually just Theo’s enthusiasm. I hope not.
“None of your business,” I say, which doesn’t seem to bother him in the least.
“Since you don’t smoke, wanna stress eat instead? I have some emergency Godiva somewhere around here,” he says, and finds what he’s been looking for: a giant chocolate bar.
“I’m in,” I say.
“So you think your dad signed a prenup?” Theo asks, and I hate him all over again.
CHAPTER 16
SN: three things: (1) had waffles this morning in your honor. (2) when I graduate, I really want to disrupt the beverage industry. I mean water, coffee, tea, juice, soda, and a few weird hybrids. WE CAN DO BETTER. (3) I used to dream about my sister all the time, and I’d wake up all shaky and it sucked, but now I don’t dream about her at all. turns out that’s worse.