Undersold (17 page)

We sat in silence together for a few minutes and looked around the house. I remembered Mom making dinner in the kitchen while Dad played with the three of us in the living room, letting us ride around on his back like a horse, or wrestling with us. He’d pick us up and toss us into the air, then throw us onto the couch. We’d do that over and over until Mom eventually made us stop to eat dinner. I remembered asking him for help with homework, and laughing when he didn’t know all the state capitols. I remembered his face, tear-streaked, when I woke up in the hospital after the accident, and him explaining what had happened. I remembered him holding me as I cried. I remembered the long nights he worked, John watching over Derek and me, and how tired he was all the time, dragging himself into his truck and out of it. I wished I could go back and make his life easier, but knew I couldn’t. He was gone, and the best we could do was pick up and keep going, be good to each other, and give him the best farewell we could.

I stood up from the couch and walked upstairs as John busied himself in the kitchen. I sat on the floor of my childhood home and looked at my phone. Shane’s texts had gotten more worried, and I knew that I wasn’t being fair, so eventually I sent him a message.

Father passed away. Need time off work.
I kept it simple and didn’t mention the scene with Janice. It kept playing through my head, and mixed with my grief. It was hard getting out of bed those first mornings, but I had to help John make arrangements.

I’m so sorry Amy. Take all the time you need
. That was all he said, and his worried messages stopped. I missed the buzz of the phone, almost as if it were actually Shane’s voice, but memories of my life in my old room started to come flooding back, and I soon forgot him in my grief.

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A
few days passed, and it was Saturday. I hadn’t heard from Shane for two days. I’d been staying in Dad’s house with John, and the funeral was set for the next morning. We had packed up a lot of the house, and had spent a lot of time reminiscing about the stuff we found. Some of it I never knew about, like my mother’s wedding dress, and most of her jewelry; I guessed Dad didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. I packed away a few small things to keep in memory of them.

Eventually, the grief turned from overwhelming to barely manageable. I didn’t want to cry every hour anymore, but the hole Dad left was still fresh in my chest, and it was difficult to get through the day.

Standing alone near my bed, I looked over my room, at the yellow-green walls and yellow carpet, at the Ikea furniture and the boy band posters. I had good and bad memories of this room, but they were mine. It was strange how Dad had kept all of our rooms exactly as we had left them, even Derek’s. There was something heartbreaking about the Backstreet Boys posters, yellowing at their corners.

I imagined Shane in this room with me. I imagined his form and his lips pressed against my body. It was hard thinking about him, and I wished I could have him there with me, but even if I hadn’t walked in on him and Janice in that moment, he wouldn’t have been able to come. It would have been breaking all of his privacy rules. Still, I found myself imagining those hours we spent together wrapped in each other, and it softened the hard sting of every other moment.

Out of nowhere, I heard the doorbell ring, which was strange. As far as I knew, we weren’t expecting anyone. I got up and walked hesitantly toward my bedroom door. I heard John open the front door downstairs.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” John said, muffled by the distance. I moved toward the top of the stairs, confused.

“Yeah, well, neither did I, but I’m here.” I recognized that voice. I walked down the stairs slowly.

“I’m glad you’re here,” John said. Framed in the door was Derek, looking haggard and tired, but in the flesh. I ran down the last two steps, moved passed John, and threw my arms around him. He smelled like sweat and hospital, and he needed a haircut and a shave, but he was there. I didn’t expect him to actually show up; he was a flake, and he didn’t get along well with Dad. I was so happy he showed up for once.

“Hey Amy,” he said, laughing. In the early days, Derek and I were very close. His drug abuse pushed us apart, but the memories of him and I going for long walks and talking about Mom’s death erased everything else for the time being. I felt like a teenager again, and he was my little brother, trying to help me deal with the bad turns of my life.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said.

“I am too.”

“I’m fine with you being here,” John said, jokingly. We all laughed, and I pulled away from Derek.

“Well this is a little weird,” Derek said, smiling.

“We haven’t all been home together in years,” I said.

“Not since you left,” John replied. We moved into the living room and plopped down on the couch. The house was mostly in boxes, and Derek looked around, surprised. It was emptier than we had ever seen it.

“You guys did all this?” he asked.

“Yeah, we had to. Got to take care of all this stuff while we have off work.”

Derek nodded, and gaped around him. I understood what he was feeling. It’s a strange thing to see your childhood in boxes, stowed away. More than that, it was your father’s life, his existence, gone. In a way, the empty house was the most tangible part of Dad’s death.

“When’s the funeral?” Derek asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s tomorrow,” I said.

“Really eerie, seeing all these boxes. I expected to see Dad sitting in his chair, watching the TV when I walked in.”

John laughed. “It would have been a hospital bed, for the last year or so. But he never did change that habit.”

I grinned. “Dad knew what he liked and hated to do anything else.”

Derek and John laughed.

“What time is everything tomorrow?” Derek asked.

“Why, got something to do?” John said, and I felt the old anger creeping back.

“No, I just have to be back at rehab by five.”

“Everything should be done by three,” I said.

He nodded, and then we lapsed into silence again. It felt good, comfortable, and the three of us pretended like nothing had happened in the years since we had last sat like this. There were still broken promises and turmoil lurking below our conversation, but right then it was fine, and we grieved and spoke and joked together like siblings.

T
he funeral was a blur. I thought I knew my father in life, but as people I’d never met before expressed their condolences, I realized how much I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I expected for a turnout; close family and friends were a given, but beyond that I had no clue. That day, I met so many people my father had touched in his life, whether it was through work on his delivery routes, or old friends of his, or relatives I hadn’t heard from in years. It was a much larger turnout than I ever imagined, and the sheer number of people who cared about my Dad touched me in a way I hadn’t expected.

More than that, old friends of mine who I hadn’t spoken to in years turned up. People from college and high school were there, and came only to support me. Darcy was there, of course, and having her around made things a little easier. I was broken up and touched all at once by my old high school friends sharing their memories of my Dad.

There were reception lines and eulogies and caskets and flowers, and it all swirled around me like dust, a useless and empty gesture for my Dad, who was gone forever. I seesawed between acceptance and heavy grief.

Afterward, after the casket was lowered and the prayers were said, we walked away from his grave, tucked up under a tree in an old cemetery, buried next to my mother. John, Derek, and I leaned up against John’s old truck as the people made their way home. I waved to Darcy as she left, and she blew me a kiss back.

“Not a bad place, all told,” John said quietly, looking around. It was chilly out, and we were wearing light coats and black clothes.

“We might be here one day,” Derek said.

“Yeah, I’d like to be at least near Mom and Dad,” I said.

We lapsed into silence. It had been an exhausting few days, and I’d cried as much as I could cry. The only solace I felt was that Dad wasn’t suffering anymore, although I wanted him back more than anything. The wind moved through the trees and we listened to the sounds of cars and people talking quietly, engines starting and moving off, tires through dirt.

“I want to say something.” Derek broke the silence.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I know me and Dad didn’t get along, but he was a good father. Seeing him gone like this....” He looked out across the cemetery. “Makes me want to get my shit together, is all I’m saying.”

John shook his head. “Heard this before, Derek.”

“He’s right, we’ve heard this before.” I wanted Derek to pull himself together, get clean, but we’d played this scene out a hundred times already.

“I know guys, I know. I can’t do anything about that right now. But I’m gonna try, best I can, to make it right. I gotta go back soon, but I wanted to say that. And to ask for forgiveness.”

John and I stayed silent for a minute. Derek stared down at his shoes.

“I forgive you,” John said quietly. I looked over and there were tears in his eyes.

“I do too, Derek. I want what’s best for you,” I said.

Derek smiled sadly, and pulled us both into a hug. We stayed like that for a minute, before moving away.

“Alright guys,” Derek said, and stood up. “Time for me to get out of here.”

“Good luck. Call me soon,” I said.

“Yeah, same here.” John nodded.

Derek nodded back, then headed off toward his crappy old Altima.

I had no idea whether or not rehab would stick this time, if Derek really was ready to get his life on track, but I wanted him to try, and I missed my younger brother. I knew John missed him too. We watched him climb into his car and drive off.

“Enough for one day?” John said as Derek pulled onto the main road and drove off.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

We climbed into the cab of his truck together, and drove back toward our childhood home. We didn’t say much, and the weight of the day was thick between us. We had just buried our father, but we had said the important things already, and now I was ready to start moving on. I thought about Shane, back in the city, doing whatever he was doing, and I hoped he wasn’t too upset. My entire body ached to message him, and I realized it was time to try and get in touch. I pulled my phone out and wrote him a text.

I’m sorry I’ve been silent for the past few days. I miss you. We need to talk soon. I’ll be back in the city tomorrow, if you have time to meet.

I hit send, and looked out the window. Trees and winding roads went by as we moved back toward Levittown. A minute later, my phone buzzed.

Think we can chat sooner than that?
I didn’t know how we could, but his positive response brought a smiled to my face.

I can call you later, if that’s what you mean
. I hit send. We were a few minutes from home, and the houses all started to look the same as we entered Levittown’s perimeter.

Not exactly what I mean
. That was a weird text, but I ignored it and figured he’d explain himself eventually. As we pulled onto the street, I recognized a black car sitting out front of the house.

“Who’s that?” John asked, pulling into the driveway.

I had no idea how to answer. That’s Shane Green, CEO and billionaire, and my sortof-boyfriend.

“I think that’s for me,” I said lamely.

John shut the car off and looked at me. “Alright, that’s cool. Who is it?”

“Uh, I’m not sure.”

He looked at me like I was insane. “Are you joking?”

“Look, this is weird, but just go with it, okay?”

He let out a sigh. “Fine, I don’t have the energy to fight you on this.”

We climbed out of the car, and I moved toward Shane. I looked back at John. “I’ll be inside soon.”

He nodded. “I’ll be right in there if you need me.”

As John pulled open the front door, Shane stepped out of the back seat of his car. John looked back, and Shane waved. John gave him a nod, and then went inside.

My breath caught in my throat. Shane was more beautiful than I remembered, and his square jaw and flint blue eyes, his perfectly fitting suit and chiseled body all struck me as if I were seeing him for the first time. I couldn’t believe he was there. He moved toward me, hands in his pockets, and piercing, engaged look on his face. He stopped within a few steps of me.

“Hi Amy, I’m sorry to drop by like this.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Darcy told me.”

That made sense. I wasn’t sure how they got in contact though.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said, unsure how to go forward.

He shook his head. “Enough apologies. The only thing I’m here to do is offer my support. I know this is extremely difficult for you. If there is anything I can do, anything you need taken care of, consider all of my resources at your disposal.”

I took a step closer to him, and could smell his body. I wanted to throw myself at him, wrap my arms around his chest and sob or laugh or both until I couldn’t breathe, but the memory of him and Janice filled me with fear and doubt.

“Are you and Janice together?” I blurted out. I couldn’t believe I said it that way, then of all times, but I had been holding that in for too long. Being so near him was too much, and I couldn’t control myself.

He looked shocked, then confused. His brow furrowed. “What do you mean, together?”

It all came out of me in a rush. I told him how I walked in on them, what they looked like, the rumor Linda told me about, admitted that she was probably better for him than I was, and I started to tell him that I could forgive him but he needed to be honest.

“Wait, Amy, please.” He raised his hands.

I stopped speaking immediately.

“Janice and I went to high school together,” he said slowly.

That surprised me. I didn’t realize they knew each other before working together.

“You guys are friends?”