“You don’t get it, do you? This girl loves you. She’s not going to break up with you, not until something really bad happens.”
“Oh, come on. Sure, she likes me, but she’s not in love with me.”
“That’s so you. I don’t know what happened, but for some reason, you never believe anyone loves you. Your mom, your sister. Me. I mean, if you can’t believe anyone loves you, how are you ever going to break through that everything’s-oh-so-fabulous front of yours and really commit to somebody?”
“Hey, it’s not a front. And, by the way, it was, like, real apparent that you loved me by how you bounced me to the curb so easily.”
“You think it was easy? Do you think I didn’t cry about it? Sometimes I still do. But I’ve got to move on with my life and so do you. So does Aimee. It’s just that she can’t see it because you’ve become her whole world. She can’t see going anywhere without you. But I can’t picture you two moving in the same direction. Can you?”
“Yeah. I can. In fact, we’re moving to St. Louis together after graduation.” Okay, so this is kind of a knee-jerk response, but I’m not going to stand here and let Cassidy predict my life for me. “Our plan’s all set. Her sister lives out there and she’s finding us an apartment. We’re both gonna get jobs and go to college. I just gave my two weeks’ notice to Bob.”
She takes my arm. “You can’t be serious.”
“You just wait and see.” I pull away from her and open my car door. “Tell the guys they suck. See you in school.”
Chapter 57
It’s the middle of the afternoon, and Holly’s decked out in a silky gold blouse, black gaucho-type pants, and sandals with straps that twine up past her ankles. You’d think she’s going to brunch with some of her upscale girlfriends instead of just entertaining her wayward, black-sheep brother. But I guess since it’s so rare that we even get together she wants to make an occasion of it.
Out we go to the deck overlooking the pool. She probably thinks if we stay inside I’ll set something on fire. On the table, there’s a plate of fruit and a pitcher of iced tea, which, of course, is unnecessary for me since I have my big 7UP.
As we sit at the table, she goes, “How do you like the way we’ve relandscaped back here?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “At first, we had a terrible time with the people we hired to do it, but, you know, I made it very clear what I wanted and when I wanted it done by, and if they didn’t like it, I’d simply hire someone else. Oh, there was some muttering under their breath, but they got the work done. I think it turned out wonderfully.”
“It’s fantastic,” I say in a mock-chipper way. I’m sure she’s trying to postpone the dad conversation for as long as possible, but I’m really not in the mood for small talk.
She presses on with it, though. “Kevin wanted an apple tree, but I had to put my foot down and tell him it wasn’t practical. Besides, I really don’t like the way they look.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, surveying the yard. “Apple trees are so yesterday. Anyway, like I said on the phone, I wanted to talk to you about Dad.”
As quick as changing a TV channel, she goes from fruittray, gaucho-wearing hostess back to being the big sister again. “Oh, Sutter, I don’t know why you want to dredge that up.”
“Dredge? Come on, Holly, Dad’s not something you dredge. He was a good guy. Remember how he used to tell us stories out in the tent in the backyard?”
“That was mostly you. I was a little old for backyard stories by the time he got that ratty old tent.”
“Well, you remember that vacation we took to Mexico? Dad could speak a little Spanish and he’d have us go up to people and ask them questions like, ‘Where can we find the belt buckle museum?’ or ‘Why is there no artichoke ice cream?’ It was hilarious. And we got those cool Mexican puppets.”
“Those questions were embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? People thought it was funny. They loved us.”
“They loved you because you were little and cute.”
“But the men loved you. The men thought you were a hot little muchacha.”
She smiles. “You think so?”
“I know so. I saw the way they looked at you when you walked away.” I don’t bother to mention that the particular guy I remember was a skinny little hombre of about fifty with more acne scars than teeth. But I know Holly has to have some warm memories of Dad. I just need to bring them out of her.
“One of the best things about Dad,” I say. “He never met a stranger.”
“That’s true.” She takes a sip of iced tea. “He did know how to make friends with people. They may not have necessarily been the right kind of people, but he did know how to make people feel good about themselves. At least for a while.”
A wistful expression flickers on her face. “I remember when I was little, before you were born, he took me trick-or-treating. It was just the two of us. I was dressed as a princess with this long, silver, spangly gown and silver tiara. Dad told me I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He said that for the whole evening I was a real princess and I could do whatever I wanted to and that anything I wished would come true.”
“That’s Dad for you,” I say. “He could be magical.”
“The way he seemed to know everyone at every house we went to and talked to all the other little kids on the sidewalks, I really did feel special. I thought, I am a princess, and my dad’s the king of America. For a while, we sat under a tree and ate candy—he loved Almond Joys—and he told me how no Halloween monsters could ever get us because we had a magic aura wrapped around us that turned all evil into dust bunnies upon touch.”