26 Kisses (25 page)

Lila doesn’t turn around to smile at me as I climb into the back of Dad’s Escalade, and Jeffrey never looks up from his phone as I settle in next to him, but Kaylee reaches from her car seat to pull me in for a hug and a kiss. Dad leans over and puts a hand on Lila’s knee, whispering something in her ear. She pushes him away and shakes her head.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, worried that if we sit in the driveway any longer, Mom will feel like she has to come out to say hi, and then we’ll all have to suffer through an unnecessary amount of awkwardness.

Dad glances back at me and puts the car in reverse. He drives down the street nearly at a crawl, glancing over at Lila the whole time. When we reach the corner, she leans over and places her hands on the dashboard.

“Stop,” she says quietly. “I don’t think I can go. All those people I don’t know, your family. Just take me home, Barry.”

The car rolls to a stop, and Jeffrey and I glance at each other, bracing ourselves for the inevitable explosion.

Dad takes a deep breath, and I slide down in my seat. “Li,” he says gently. “It’ll be fine. You can stick with me the whole time.”

She leans forward, bending at the waist so her chin is nearly resting on her knees. “No.” Her voice is stronger but shaky. “I can’t. I need to go home. I feel sick.”

“We were supposed to do this together, Li. If you can’t do this, how are we supposed to . . .” He trails off, reaching out to touch Lila’s knee. She pulls away and curls into herself, shaking her head.

Dad sighs and turns his head to stare out the driver’s-side window. Several long, tense seconds tick by. Kaylee shifts in her car seat, and I reach for her to keep her still. I wait for the explosion that never comes.

“Fine,” he says finally. “Let’s go.”

We drive all the way back to their house in silence. Even Kaylee sits wide-eyed and quiet. Lila has her seat belt unbuckled even before we hit the driveway, and she slides out of the car as soon as Dad puts it into park. She opens the back door and leans in to unbuckle Kaylee’s car seat.

“No,” Dad says, exasperation lacing his voice. “She’s coming with us.”

Lila jerks back like she’s been stung and gives Dad a hard look. I hold my breath, wondering if we’re finally going to witness Dad and Lila fighting, if the cracks in their marriage are starting to show through. But then she nods, runs her hands over Kaylee’s head, and bends to kiss her cheek.

“Mama?” Kaylee says, her voice trembling.

“Hi, honey,” Lila says, smiling at Kaylee. “You’re going to a party with Daddy and Veda and Jeffrey. Mommy’s going to stay home.”

“No,” Kaylee says.

“Yes.” Lila glances at me and gives me a tight smile. “But you’re going to be a big girl and go with Daddy. Have fun.” Her voice breaks and she turns away, tucking her purse under her arm and hurrying up the path to the house.

Dad watches her go inside, then flips down the sun visor and backs out of the driveway again, maybe a little faster than necessary.

I lean back and allow myself to breathe again.

“So that’s still a thing for her, huh?” Jeffrey says, sticking his head around Kaylee’s seat to look at Dad. “Not leaving the house?”

I grab his shoulder and pull him back into his seat. I’m not exactly president of the Lila Fan Club, but even I stay away from the very sensitive topic of why exactly she stays home so much. And now that Lila’s not here, there’s nothing to stop Dad from blowing up at us in one of his classic tantrums.

Dad doesn’t reply, just turns on the radio and makes a silly face at Kaylee in the rearview mirror, avoiding my eyes.

Our uncle Steve organizes these family reunions every five years, and I swear he must spend all the time in between planning the next one. At the last reunion, when my parents were still (barely) married and I was still (barely) okay with attending family functions, Uncle Steve rented out Total Tides, an outdoor water park about an hour from Butterfield. I’ve never really seen the point of water parks when you have Lake Michigan in your backyard, but it was awesome having the whole place to ourselves, with no lines for the slides and just a couple of lifeguards who were all willing to turn a blind eye to someone getting a well-deserved wedgie in the deep end of the pool.

This year the Bentley clan is going for a more high-end feel at Cobblestone Farms, one of those rustic wedding venues complete with a one-hundred-year-old farmhouse and a giant barn. The dress code is “country casual,” which means Jeffrey is wearing his only pair of khakis, which ride about half an inch above the tops of his shoes. As we pull up the long driveway, our family spills across the lawn in a long arc of dress pants and sun hats, glasses filled with ice and alcohol, and plates of fancy hors d’oeuvres.

Jeffrey flings himself out of the car and disappears into a group of boy cousins who immediately break into a dead run for the barn. I unbuckle Kaylee and hand her off to my dad, who didn’t say another word for the entire drive here. Most of the family hasn’t met Kaylee yet, so she’s going to draw a whirlwind of attention I can’t handle right now.

As a crowd of relatives gathers around Dad and Kaylee, I sneak around the other side of the Escalade and make a beeline for the giant white tent set up on the lawn. My head is pounding from the combination of a slight hangover and the incredibly uncomfortable car ride, and all I want to do is sit somewhere quiet and shady.

The grass is long, and the ground slopes slightly uphill, making me stumble a couple of times. I kick off my sandals and continue on barefoot, walking as fast as I can without making my head spin. I duck into the tent and sigh with relief. There’s a whole table spread with food and giant glass dispensers full of water, iced tea, and lemonade. I grab a cup and fill it to the brim, slurping down the water as fast as I can.

I hear a noise behind me and spin around, my breath catching in my throat. My grandpa is sitting off in a corner, a plate of untouched food on the table next to him. And, I realize as I take a step toward him, he’s in a wheelchair. When I saw him at Christmas, he was leaning hard on a cane but still walking around just fine on his own. Dad didn’t mention anything about a wheelchair.

Grandpa’s head is tipped back, his eyes closed, and a soft snore escapes from his open mouth. Dressed in spotless khakis and a short-sleeved checked shirt, he looks the same as he always has. Sharp, intelligent, unyielding. But the wheelchair takes that illusion of power away from him and makes him seem . . . withered.

Just as I’m thinking that, though, his eyes snap open, and I see he’s the same old Grandpa Phillip, even if his body is weakening.

“Veda.” He beckons me closer and pulls me in for a kiss, bumping my cheek with his chin, and I mentally record
P
in the log. It’s going to be harder to keep track of the kisses now that I’m not going in alphabetical order. “Is your father here?”

“Yep.” I straighten up and step away. “Want me to wheel you over there?”

Grandpa grunts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll walk.” He grabs his cane, which is leaning up against a nearby table, and hauls himself to his feet.

“But what about the wheelchair?”

“I don’t actually ride in that cursed thing.” Grandpa gives it a look of pure disgust. “But it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable to sit in than those folding chairs.”

I follow after him, being sure to walk a half step behind him so he won’t notice I’m slowing my pace to avoid passing him. “Nice day,” I say, unable to think of anything else to talk about. “I heard something about rain earlier, so we’re lucky it held off.”

He keeps walking, eyes straight ahead. “About time you all got here,” he says. “We’ve been waiting on you.”

Uncle Eddie, my dad’s younger brother who lives in Florida, sees Grandpa coming, and hurries over. “I think we’re all here, Dad,” he says. “Do you want to—”

Grandpa waves a hand dismissively. “Let’s get the show on the road,” he says.

Uncle Eddie grins at me and pulls me in for a hug. “Hi, Veda,” he says. I stiffen, but he smacks a kiss on my cheek anyway. So now I have two
E
s. And still no
J
, or anything in between
K
and
P
. My head spins.

“Hi,” I say, smiling through my headache and trying to look happy to be here. “Good to see you.”

“You too. You’re all grown-up.” He pats my arm and nods at Grandpa, who is striding back toward the tent, leaning hard on his cane. “I better go gather the troops. Can you get your brother and the other boys?”

I nod and hurry over to the barn, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone. The barn is dark and cool inside, and I briefly contemplate whether I could sneak off into a corner and just hide out there for the rest of the day. Jeffrey and our cousins are clustered around a game of giant Jenga that stands nearly as tall as I am. I lean against a post and watch as Jeffrey kneels down to wiggle out a piece from the bottom of the stack.

“That’s his classic move,” I say to Brad, one of the cousins who falls somewhere in the age range between me and Jeffrey. “Take as many out from the bottom as possible and screw the next person over.”

“Shut up, Vee,” Jeffrey says, his hair falling over his eyes as he tries to extract the piece without toppling the pile. He pulls it out carefully, and we all hold our breaths as the tower sways. For a moment it looks like Jeffrey has gotten away with it, but then the stack of wooden pieces tilts, and one piece slides off the top, sending the rest of the pile tumbling to the floor.

All the boys groan. “Come on. We have to go outside anyway,” I say to them. “Grandpa’s going to talk.”

We file over to the tent, where all the adults have gathered at round tables. Aunt Nancy is helping Grandpa test the microphone. A loud squawk of feedback quiets everyone down, and Grandpa taps the mic. “Is this thing working? Oh, okay. It is.”

Everyone laughs, and Aunt Nancy hurries back to her seat, giving Grandpa the floor.

“Well, here we are at another reunion,” Grandpa says, looking out over the crowd. “How many of these things have we done, Steve?”

“Five,” Steve calls, raising his glass of iced tea in the air, his other arm around his wife, Hannah.

“Five. Goddamn,” Grandpa says, and everyone laughs again. “So that’s twenty-five years of reunions. Some of us are getting older.” He waves his cane. “The kids are growing up. But no matter who comes and goes, we’ll always be a family. And I gotta tell you, that means a hell of a lot to me.”

He nods, and we applaud politely. “I won’t bore you any longer,” Grandpa says, “but Barry has an announcement to make.”

As Dad stands up and walks toward the front of the tent, my eyes find Jeffrey’s. “What is he going to say?” I whisper, and Jeffrey shrugs.

“Hi there.” Dad brings the mic too close to his face, and his voice booms through the tent. “Whoa, sorry. Uh, hi there. It’s so good to see everyone today. I hope you all have gotten a chance to meet my little girl, Kaylee.”

Heads swivel as Dad waves at Kaylee, who is sitting with a group of Dad’s cousins I don’t know very well. Guilt churns in my stomach—I should have been watching her.

“Unfortunately, my wife, Lila, wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it today. I was looking forward to all of you meeting her, and I was hoping we would make this announcement together.”

I catch Jeffrey’s eye, confused.

Dad passes the microphone from hand to hand, his excitement palpable even from twenty feet away. “I’m very excited to share that Lila has accepted a new job opportunity in San Francisco, California. We’ll be moving out there at the beginning of September. Even though we’ll be farther away from our wonderful family, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us and for Kaylee, and we couldn’t be more thrilled.”

I assume there’s applause and cheering, congratulations and laughter, but all I hear is the roaring in my ears. Jeffrey’s shredding a paper napkin in his hands, his gaze trained on the white tablecloth in front of him. Aunts and uncles surround Dad, patting his shoulders and hugging him. I do something with my face that hopefully approximates a smile, frozen to my chair. Dad pours champagne, and someone shoves a flute into my hand, winking as I try to protest. We toast Lila’s new job, and I should be happy because this means I’ll barely ever have to see Dad and Lila . . . but my eyes are locked on Kaylee, who has no idea what is going on but beams up at the smiling adults.

The champagne is sour in my mouth. I set the glass down on the table, standing up and hurrying out of the tent. I dash behind the barn and lean over, hands on my knees, willing myself not to throw up.

“Are you okay?” Jeffrey comes around the side of the barn, his hands shoved into the pockets of his khakis.

I nod but don’t straighten up. “Just hungover,” I say.

He kicks at the ground, sending dust into the air. “I wish they would have told us first.”

“Well, we all know how good Dad is at communication. Especially with us.”

Jeffrey sinks to the ground and drops his head into his hands. “This is so messed up,” he says, and it takes a moment for me to realize he is crying.

“Hey.” I drop to my knees next to him, ignoring my white dress, and put an arm around his shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”