The Accidentals(27)

“Hello, dear,” comes a voice. “Who is this?”

“This is…Rachel.” Who wants to know?

“Is Frederick at home? Tell him his mother would like to speak to him.”

I gasp.

“Hello? Are you there, honey?”

Frederick pads into the kitchen, his hair wet. “Rachel? Is someone looking for me?”

I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s your mother,” I whisper.

He looks at me for a long moment, and then takes the phone as one might handle a grenade with the pin pulled. “Okay.” He sighs. “I guess I’m doing this now.” He puts the phone to his ear. “Mom. Hi.” He listens. “Yes, she does sound young.” He laughs nervously, his expression one of comical terror. “Mom. Mom. Stop talking a second. There’s something I need to tell you. Actually, you might want to sit down.”

I know I should leave the room and give him some privacy. But I can’t tear myself away.

He puts his elbows on the kitchen counter. “Mom, I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this, but things have happened very fast. It’s not going to be easy…” He clears his throat. “Rachel is your granddaughter. She’s almost eighteen.” He closes his eyes. “Yes, you heard that right.”

I don’t hear a thing for a minute, and then there’s a sort of explosion through the phone. I can hear my grandmother yelling at him.

I turn around and flee the kitchen.





From the couch, I can hear half their conversation. Frederick closes the kitchen door, but I can still hear him saying things like, “I know it’s a shock.” And, “You have every right to be angry.”

After ten minutes of that, the front door beeps, and Ernie puts his head inside. “Hi, Rachel!” he says. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I swing my legs off the couch to make room for him to pass by me.

He puts an instrument case down on the floor. Then he drops the newspaper onto the coffee table and sits down next to me. From the next room, we can both hear Frederick. “I agree with you, okay? It’s unforgivable. I am a total asshole.”

Ernie raises his chin toward the kitchen. “Freddy having a little trouble in there?”

“He’s on the phone with his mother.”

Ernie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” I say, watching his face.

The bass player closes his eyes for a quick second, then takes a breath and opens them again. He reaches for the newspaper and unrolls it. “Want the music section?”

“You go ahead.”

Ernie snorts and then shows me the front of section C. It’s a heavily styled group shot of the boy band 1D. “Please tell me they’re not your favorite band.”

“Nope,” I say quickly. Too busy being my father’s fan girl.

From behind the kitchen door, Frederick starts shouting. “No! You and I are not having that conversation right now. No.”

“Hey—” Ernie touches my elbow. “Did you feel that earthquake last night?”

I nod. “My first one.” Around eight, the sofa had begun to wiggle in a way that sofas generally don’t. By the time I’d realized what was happening, it was over.

“That was just a baby earthquake,” he says. “We’ve had some doozies. The aftershocks can go on and on.”

It’s quiet in the kitchen for a minute. But Frederick does not come out. My heart uses the silence to try to crawl up my throat.

“Do you play any gin rummy?” Ernie asks.

“Rummy?” He’s obviously trying to distract me. “Sure.”

He takes a deck out of a drawer in Frederick’s coffee table and shuffles the cards. I spin around to face him on the sofa as he deals onto the expanse of leather between us.

The front door beeps again and Henry comes in. “Hi guys,” he says. “A lot of work getting done here today, I see.” He walks toward the kitchen door.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” Ernie warns.

Henry stops. “What untoward adventures has Freddy embarked upon today?”

A shout comes from the kitchen. “Sure! Let’s review every disappointing thing I’ve ever done.”

Henry jerks his thumb at the door. “Who?”

Ernie discards a king of spades. “His mother.”

Henry stares down at his phone. “I fear a delay.”

I have amazing cards—a long string of spades and three jacks. Then I draw the jack of hearts. When I discard a king, Ernie winces.

“Now wait a minute! No! No you cannot,” comes Frederick’s shout. “Not until you cool off. You know what? I’m done here.” I hear the sound of the phone slamming into the cradle. Then the kitchen door bursts open. He stops on the threshold. His eyes are pinched and his face flushed. There are sweat circles on his T-shirt.

“Greetings,” Henry says.

Frederick scowls. “Henry, what were we doing today? Please tell me your calendar says, ‘get very drunk.’”

“We’re going over to see the suits.”

“No fucking way,” he says, sliding past Henry to go upstairs.

Henry looks up at the ceiling and sighs. Then he sets his phone down on the coffee table and follows Frederick upstairs.