See You at Harry's(45)

When it’s time to leave, Sara offers Cassie and Ran rides home, but they say they can walk. They each give me a hug and head off together. I wish I could go with them.

In the car, Sara drives, and my mom sits in the passenger seat. She leans her head against the window. I thought after last night, she would be more aware of the rest of us. Of me. But now I wonder if the hug in the hall will be my last one. I know it’s selfish and awful of me, but I wonder if she would have been this sad if it had been me instead of Charlie. Charlie was her special joy. I know that. I never felt like the special youngest child before Charlie was born. Only that one day when I was sick. Most of the time I felt like the extra kid to clothe or take to the dentist. But when Charlie came along, my parents totally changed. They doted and coddled and adored. They filled a baby book with all of Charlie’s firsts, while my own baby book remained mostly blank except for my birth date and how much I weighed. They called Charlie their autumn surprise. He was their gift. And I always wondered what that made the rest of us.

But I realize now, he was my gift, too.

I touch my ear.

I love you, Ferny.

Why didn’t I know it? Why didn’t I pay attention? I don’t want to be the youngest again. I can’t be.

At home, I go straight to my room and shut the door. I pull the answering machine from under my bed and plug it in. I press the side of my face against the speaker and wait for Charlie’s happy, proud voice to vibrate against my cheek and imagine his sticky fingers are touching me. I play the message again. This time I put my hand on the speaker, as if mine is touching his. And listen again and again.

“Fern!” Sara calls from downstairs. “Dinner!”

I play the message one more time, trying to hold the words and his voice inside, even if they are a lie. Then I carefully put the machine back under my bed.





AT DINNER, my mom has a big glass of wine, and my dad has some sort of amber-colored liquor in a glass. We’re almost done by the time Holden shows up. When he comes in, his cheeks and lips are rosy red. He looks like he has a little of the glow he had the first time he came home from being with Gray. Until he sees my dad’s expression.

“Where have you been?” my dad asks. He’s on his fourth glass. He never drinks this much, and he seems different. At first, I was glad when he said he was going to come home to be with us for dinner from now on. But now I’m not so sure.

“At the library,” Holden tells him. “Remember? I told you I’d be there.”

“You said you’d be home for dinner. We were worried.”

Holden looks at the time on his cell phone. “It’s only seven thirty. Sorry I’m a little late.” He sits down and reaches for a serving dish of rice.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” my dad says.

“What?”

“You come late, you pay the price. No dinner.”

“Are you kidding?”

I look at Sara, who is staring at our dad like he’s a stranger.

“Go to your room,” he says.

“What am I, ten?”

My dad slams his fist on the table. “Don’t you talk to me in that tone! I said go!” Now he’s scaring me.

Holden looks around at each of us as if to say, Has Dad gone crazy?

My mom reaches out for my dad’s arm like that will help calm him down, but he brushes her off.

“Come on, Dad. Let him have some dinner,” Sara says.

“Don’t!” my dad yells. “Don’t tell me what to do! You shouldn’t be hanging around with that . . . that boy. He’s too old. It’s not right.”

“Oh, give me a break. You don’t care how old he is. Why don’t you say what you’re really afraid of, Dad?”

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re afraid he’s my boyfriend. You’re afraid that I’m gay. Well, guess what? You’re right! Is everyone happy now? I’m gay and Gray is my boyfriend, and you’re just going to have to deal with it!”

My dad stands up and stumbles, knocking his chair over. “No. I do not have to deal with it! That boy is too old for you! He’s probably eighteen or nineteen, for God’s sake. You are fourteen years old, Holden!”

“George, please calm down,” my mom says quietly. “Holden, we support you.”


“We most certainly do not!” my dad yells. “It would be one thing if you were seeing someone your age. But this is unacceptable!”

“I support you,” I say. “Gray is nice. Who cares if he’s older?”

“Me, too,” says Sara. “Gray’s OK, Dad. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t care if he’s OK. He is too old for Holden, and that’s final.”

“What do you mean ‘that’s final’?”

“You’re not to see him again.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“George, let’s talk about this later,” my mom says quietly. “You’ve obviously had too much to drink.”

“Forget it. I’m outta here,” Holden says. “This family is insane.”

“Oh, no, you don’t!” My dad starts to walk toward Holden, but he’s already out of reach. The door slams as Holden takes off once again.